Tito's phone rang as he was driving back to the office, and he used the van's state of the art Bluetooth connection to pick up the call. He'd realized early on that they'd need a van to transport the teens once the program really got up and running, and had mentioned it in one of his interviews with the local media. He'd hoped that would result in some additional contributions earmarked for the van, and had his eye on a used vehicle he thought would do the job with a little help from a local mechanic.

He'd been in the process of making those arrangements when he got a call from the lawyer who managed the Trust that had twice before been the benefactor of OFC in sizable donations. The lawyer informed him that, on behalf of the Trust, he had already made arrangements with a local dealership for purchase of a new commercial passenger van, and that the sales person was waiting to meet with Tito to show him a variety of 12-15 seat vans so Tito could choose the one that best suited OFC's purposes.

The man still refused to identify who his client was who actually controlled the Trust, and would only say that one of the priorities of the Trust was assisting programs that helped at-risk youth. All Tito could do was express his gratitude. A week later he had driven out of the dealership with a brand new vehicle that far exceeded his expectations and would meet all the anticipated transportation needs of the program for years to come.

But right now he wasn't thinking about the largess of an unknown benefactor. He was thinking about Caylee and the winking emoji she'd sent in reply to his text setting a date. As far as he was concerned, Sunday afternoon couldn't come soon enough.

"Are you there? Tito?"

His sister's voice pulled his focus back to the present.

"Yes. Sorry, Just driving. What's up, Maria?"

"Did you see it?" Maria's voice came through the speakers. "The story about the plane crash?"

"Hard to miss it, the way the asshole's photo has been splattered all over the news."

"He's dead."

"It doesn't mean anything to us."

"It closes a door."

"That's not a door we ever would have opened."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this."

"Feel happy you won't ever run into him at another event." Tito remembered all too clearly how upset his sister had been when Thornton had confronted her at a charity auction - one where a painting of hers had been one of the featured items being bid on - and basically called her a worthless little gold digger who was no better than her mother. The woman who he'd gotten pregnant in high school and then abandoned to raise her twin babies on her own. He'd warned her to stay away from him and his socialite wife.

Well, now both of them were dead.

"I guess so," Maria said. "It's just . . . " Her voice trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

"He never acknowledged us," Tito said, "and there's no reason for us to acknowledge this. He was dead to me anyway. This changes nothing."

"You're right," Maria said.

"Dad was our father, not that sonofabitch," Tito added, referring to the man who had helped raise them and loved them - their stepfather and their little brother Joey's father - until a heart attack stole him from them way too soon. He'd married their mother when Tito and Maria were ten, and for awhile life had been really good. But five years later he was gone, and Joey was still so young he barely remembered his father.

"Not that sonofabitch," Tito repeated.

"I know that," Maria said. "I hated Thornton as much as you did. Maybe more."

"The best thing to do," Tito said, his heart hurting for his sister every time he thought about how Thornton had ignored her, then accosted her during what should have been a really happy event for Maria, "is to just forget about him. I don't plan to give him even a moment of my time ever again. It doesn't do any good to think about the past. The future is a whole lot better. For both of us."

"You've got that right," Maria said.

And true to his word, once they ended the call Tito didn't give the recently dead Bradford Thornton another thought.

He had much more interesting things to think about. Like a gorgeous and sexy brunette he should be staying far away from - but couldn't seem to resist getting to know better

* * *

It was lunchtime before Caylee could even come up for air. It was the first day on the job, and she was a little nervous, although she'd only admit it to herself. Most of her day so far had been consumed by HR forms to read and sign, training on the firm's billing software, and an orientation program on everything from how their files were organized on the shared directory to their zero tolerance policy for sexual harassment.

She'd started her day in the conference room where the partners had introduced her to everyone in the firm, and she tried to keep their names straight as they came up to her in groups of two or three and introduced themselves, chatted for a few minutes, then returned to the side table to where an impressive array of bagels, pastries and fruit had been set up beside several large coffee urns.

Sure, they'd had plenty of catered events at her firm in New York, mostly to entertain clients. But she couldn't remember there ever being a gathering like this in one of the conference rooms to welcome a new associate onboard. And for a law firm with not that many lawyers, they had an amazingly large number of staff. Legal assistants, paralegals, the office administrator she'd spent much of the morning with, a case manager, and several people with the title "investigator," which put her in mind of the private detective shows she'd been addicted to for awhile when she was in middle school. It really did seem to be a different world from securities law, and one she was anxious to explore.

Finally, close to noon, she was free to get acquainted with her new office - a little bland and undecorated at the moment, but she'd fix that.

She'd been surprised to learn that although there were a number of contract lawyers working at Flanagan, Berrington and Perez, none of them had any expectation of ever being a partner. There were several junior associate lawyers as well, but Jack had explained that they typically moved on after a few years, either to join another firm or start their own practice, since he and Sam and Ritchie had so far not admitted anyone else into the partnership.

Growth in numbers wasn't always a good thing, Jack had told her. They kept their firm lean, and only took on the cases that really appealed to them. And at least for now, the three of them intended to stay in control of all the decisions. Having now been introduced to the crowd in the conference room and had the chance to walk through the hallways, Caylee realized that "lean" didn't mean understaffed, as she'd initially assumed. It referred to "lean" at the top.

As Caylee sat in her office chair and spun it around to gaze out at the panoramic view of office towers, tall narrow palm trees, and Biscayne Bay, she determined that she was going to be the one to change that narrative. Caylee was here to stay, and her goal was to definitely to make partner. At a firm like this, being a partner would really mean something, unlike the firm in New York which already boasted more than 600 partners worldwide, very few of whom actually had any say in the running of the business.

"Knock knock!" came a voice from the hallway, and she spun around in her chair to see Jack leaning in her doorway.

"Plotting the takeover of the firm already?"

Ouch, she thought, how did he do that?

Aloud, she said, "Of course not. Just wondering what kind of cases I'll be assigned."

Jack grinned. "You have to walk before you can run," he told her.

Caylee tilted her head. "What does that mean?"

"That means you won't be handling your own cases for awhile. You'll start out second chairing a case with each of us, so we can train you."

Not going to have her own cases? Caylee had been hoping to hit the ground running and make an impression on Jack and his partners. She knew people sometimes discounted her because of her background and her appearance, but she had no intention of letting that happen here.

"Wouldn't it make sense to also give me a few small cases to handle on my own? With you mentoring me on them, of course," she added.

"We don't have small cases."

She frowned. "If there aren't any small cases, how am I supposed to learn?"

"Like I said, we'll teach you."

She had a sudden sinking vision of herself spending hours and hours behind a desk, doing research and writing briefs for senior lawyers and partners, but never setting foot in court. It was like her old firm all over again.

"Hey," Jack said, obviously reading her expression. "You do know what second chairing a case means at this firm, right?"

"Why don't you tell me?" She tried but couldn't keep the trace of disappointment out of her voice.

Jack folded his arms. "It doesn't mean spending all your time behind a desk, which is what I imagine you've being doing for past year, isn't that right?" When she nodded, he continued. "It means you'll be going to court and to depositions with me, and with Sam and Ritchie, initially to observe. But then in no time you'll be the one arguing the motions and conducting the depositions, and we'll just be there to back you up. When a case goes to trial we'll be sitting together at the Plaintiff's counsel table, and you'll be handling witnesses."

Ok, it was NOTHING like her old firm. She felt the tension that had been gripping her chest - and threatening to make the beginning of an ulcer act up - ease away. It wasn't going to be the same thing all over again. Not here.

"So how does that sound, Caylee?"

"That sounds great." The words practically bubbled out.

Jack turned and headed to the door, then paused and looked back at her.

"By the way," he suggested, "I'd work on developing a poker face."

"Right." She beamed back at him, and he laughed.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Jack said. "I do have one assignment for you that you can handle all on your own. That is, if you think you're up to it."

"Great! Whatever it is, I'm glad to take it on."

He stepped back in, lowering his voice slightly. "It has to do with Tito Martinez. And it's not going to be easy." 

Author's Note:  What do you think Jack wants Caylee to "handle" about Tito?