Connections in Death (In Death 48)

As Caro closed the doors behind her, Rochelle lifted her cup. “I assume you want to talk about…” She trailed off as she took a sip. “Oh,” she said. “My.” She took another sip. “My entire system just stood up and cheered. There were some mentions in the Icove book and vid about your coffee. Now I know.”

“I often think it’s how I convinced my cop to marry me.”

“It may have been a factor. In any case, I assume you want to talk to me about some of my work at Dochas. I know you take an active interest.”

“It’s a factor,” he said, and smiled at her. “You’re aware of the youth facility we’re completing in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Of course. Do you really believe you’ll have it ready for students by May?”

He appreciated the term students—another point in her favor. “We’re on track for that. I’m aware that in addition to the consulting you’ve done at Dochas, you’ve been on staff at the Family Counseling Center downtown for the past five years.”

“Yes.”

“No ambition to open your own practice?”

She shifted, met his eyes easily, smiled with it. “That takes more wherewithal than I have available, frankly. And, moreover, I prefer being part of a team. When you are, you use that team, pull on their strengths to help you do better work, to help treat the whole patient. From what I understand, that’s exactly what An Didean will do. Counsel, educate, rehabilitate, provide structure and safety and, not the least of it, a community where young people can connect with each other, with adults who want to guide them toward a good, healthy, productive life.”

“That’s precisely it. The work over the past months hasn’t only focused on rehabbing, remodeling the building itself, but in gathering a staff that not only understands the purpose, has the training and dedication to fulfill that purpose, but believes in it. I’m confident you check all those boxes.”

He waited a beat, watched her eyebrows draw together. “Are you interested in having me consult at An Didean when needed as I do at Dochas?”

“Actually, I’m hoping you’d be interested in coming on staff in the position of head therapist.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Because the cup rattled in the saucer, Rochelle put her coffee down carefully. “I was under the impression Dr. Susann Po had accepted that position. Mr. Roarke—”

“Just Roarke.”

“I have tremendous respect for Dr. Po, professionally and personally. While I appreciate— While I’m very flattered you’d consider me for the position, I could never undermine someone with Dr. Po’s skills and reputation.”

“Dr. Po would never have been offered the position

if I didn’t share your respect. Unfortunately, she’s dealing with a family emergency, and is relocating to East Washington, perhaps permanently. She regretfully resigned from the position late last week.”

“Oh, I see. I hadn’t heard. I’m very sorry. I…” Rochelle picked up her cup again, drank more coffee. Took a very careful breath.

“Dr. Po has nearly thirty years’ experience in youth psychology and counseling. I have barely ten. It feels ungracious to ask, but I have to ask: Does this offer have to do with my relationship with Wilson?”

“Last fall when I offered Dr. Po the position—a key position in a project that’s very important to me, to my wife—I did so because of her experience, reputation, and a variety of other reasons. There were five names, five highly qualified people I considered before making that offer. You were second on that list.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t believe you were in a relationship with … Wilson at that time.”

“No, no we weren’t. That is, we met near the end of December. So we’ve known each other for a few months. But we didn’t begin to … We didn’t get involved right away.”

“I can assure you, I wasn’t aware you knew each other at all. In fact, it was an interesting surprise for me to meet you Saturday at Nadine’s party, with Wilson, as I had decided only that morning to ask you to come in, to speak to you about the position.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. If I’d known this was an interview for such a vital position, I’d have come more prepared.”

“We’ve already had most of the interview.” Because he sensed genuine nerves now, Roarke smiled at her again. “Saturday night, and over coffee here. Rochelle, you wouldn’t have been on the list last fall if I hadn’t already done my due diligence. I’m aware of your educational qualifications, your professional work and reputation, your volunteer work, including the hours you’ve given to Dochas. Either I personally or Caro has spoken with a number of your colleagues, your superiors, your professors, and so on. As with everyone else who’ll be a part of An Didean, I complete this process as we are here. A face-to-face.”

The way her stomach jittered, she almost expected to see the skirt of her suit bounce. “A man with your—let’s say reach—would be aware that my father died in prison. He was an addict, a troubled, often violent man. And that my mother’s addiction to him and to the substances he introduced her to contributed to her suicide.”

“I am. We make our choices, don’t we, to overcome the brutality of our youth or to follow that path into the cycle of it. I don’t need your skills to intuit that the path you took was influenced by your own childhood, and the desire to help the vulnerable, the defenseless. I’ve added that to your list of qualifications.

“More coffee?”

Now her throat wanted to close. “Actually, I could use a glass of water.”