“I heard that he might also have been hired to… well, to pick up where you left off with your last client.”
“You heard that?” I choked. “That’s not something you hear. What’s the real story?”
Lily stopped typing and looked over at me.
“I saw them together at City Hall. I suspect he had an appointment to see if he could persuade the department to forgo soliciting bids and just award them a sole-source contract.”
“And how long were you going to wait before telling me this?”
“Olivia. What does it matter? I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Too late,” I said, and walked out of her office.
****
CHAPTER 2
Stoner Halbert. Suddenly he was the new star on the rise in San Francisco. Everybody wanted to work with him. People seemed to think he possessed some kind of magic. It was painful to admit, but I was jealous. And a tiny bit worried.
I could count on one hand the number of women who did the work I did. Politics and public affairs are not a landscape women dominate. When we do, we often fall into three categories: ball-busters, bitches or sluts. I had long ago lost track of the number of times I’d been complimented on “taking the bit between my teeth,” or been a “real bull dog.”
While male consultants can be brilliant, relentless, even sexy or magnetic, those qualities don’t seem to exist for women. Women, it seems, can only be compared to racehorses and loyal pets.
Stoner Halbert was a former chief of staff to a prominent member of the California Senate. His wife ran an investment firm. The two had long been the darlings of the political and wealthy elite. Their photos ran in the society pages weekly as they were snapped at various functions, wrapped up tightly in fashion’s latest creations.
Then one day, the FBI charged Amber Halbert with insider trading and embezzlement. The ensuing news coverage detailing how she had stolen and defrauded some of the state’s biggest names in politics and business became too much for Stoner to bear. He resigned from his post to shield his boss from further embarrassment. Amber pled guilty to avoid a more stringent jail sentence, and the two quietly divorced.
Not long after, Stoner set up his own consulting business. From the moment he opened his doors, the city’s elite were enthralled. He was collecting big names and big projects. And now, it seemed, he had added one of my clients to his growing list.
After I left the library, I realized I needed a break and decided to get out of town for the day to see my mother. The magnificent, but overwhelming India Rose Shepherd, a landscape painter of some renown, lives in a house in Bolinas. Bolinas, a small hamlet north of San Francisco in Marin County, shares something in common with my mother: Both are difficult to find unless you know what you are looking for.
Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge in my Audi wagon, I headed north on Highway 101 and exited in Mill Valley. After a thirty-minute drive over the hills and through a winding valley, I passed Stinson Beach As I drove past the lagoon, their silver-blue waters glowing in the dusk, I caught a glimpse of a lone heron, standing in the shallow inlet.
I turned off the highway onto a side road, although there are no signs or markings to indicate the nearby town. A half-mile further, I followed a long narrow road that led to my mother’s home.
Rose, as she likes to be called, lives in a barn that had been converted into a home in the late 1960’s. Since then, it was renovated and modernized many times. There are also two separate cottages on the property, which look out at the rough-hued green grey of the Pacific Ocean. One is her studio and the other is a guest house where I often spend the night. Although I had packed an overnight bag for my trip, I wasn’t sure if I would stay. I can never be sure of anything when it comes to my mother.
I’m the only child of a single mother. Unlike many children in the same situation, I didn’t suffer any economic hardship. My mother came from a wealthy family that did not disown her when, unmarried, she became pregnant with me. On the contrary, they embraced her and pulled us into the family even more closely. My grandfather was a successful dairy farmer who gave my mother the land she lives on today. My