The Divine Appointment Read Online Free Page B

never complained.
    Valerie nodded. “I’ll get some of the legal-clinic students to work on it right now.”
    Stella had more volunteers from the legal clinics of the law schools in New York City than she could possibly need. But she put all of them to work anyway. The more young, liberal minds she could foster, the better for her own future…and that of NFAR. Two dozen of them were currently scattered throughout the NFAR offices, eagerly awaiting instructions from Stella.
    “That’s a great idea,” Stella replied. “And contact our largest donors. We’re going to need at least twenty-five million dollars to fight this campaign in the media and in the Senate.” She paused. “Make arrangements for me to attend the memorial service on Friday.”
    “Have you heard who he’ll nominate?” Valerie asked.
    “Not yet, but it won’t matter. Anybody he nominates will be unacceptable.”

    Washington DC
    Jessica Caldwell had served two years as a law clerk for Justice Robinson. The news of her death on Tuesday was difficult to take. It wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to stomach.
    Justice Robinson’s body lay in repose in the Great Hall of the Supreme Court Building on Lincoln’s catafalque for two days before Friday’s memorial service. Jessica arrived at Reagan National Airport from Nashville just after 10:00 a.m. eastern time on Friday. She flagged a cab to take her to the Washington National Cathedral and arrived just as the memorial service began.
    For the past couple of days, she had gone back and forth about whether to attend the service. After all, she had memories of living in Washington DC for the two years during her Supreme Court clerkship. Many were pleasant memories, but others were downright awful. Those memories—the awful ones, the ones that made her sick just thinking about them—had almost kept her away. But in the end she decided she owed more to Justice Robinson than a mere donation to the American Cancer Society.
    After her black leather handbag was searched and a metal detector waved over her black dress and black shoes, Jessica entered the cathedral through a pointed-arch doorway and sat near the back. President and Mrs. Wallace sat in the front-left row with the Robinson family. Senators, congressmen, Supreme Court justices, and other Washington dignitaries filled the first twenty rows of each section of pews. Secret Service agents—some she could see, but she was certain others were blended in with the crowd and into the walls—were scattered throughout the church.
    Jessica sat in a crowded pew between two other women also dressed in black and whom she didn’t know. She smiled politely but didn’t engage either in conversation. They were probably just well-dressed sightseers, she guessed. She crossed her legs at the ankles, sliding them under the pew and setting her purse nearby. She clutched a tissue in her left hand.
    The organist played “Amazing Grace” as a prelude—which struck Jessica as odd for Justice Robinson’s memorial service—on the great organ. Jessica had never seen nor heard of Justice Robinson attending church, much less making any reference to God. Yet the priest spoke eloquently about Justice Robinson’s life. His speech was followed by words from President Wallace, then a member of the Robinson family.
    Jessica dabbed occasionally at the corners of her eyes during the hourlong service. She had admired and respected Justice Robinson for her intelligence and jurisprudence. When the great organ began to play the recessional, Jessica left the sanctuary and descended the concrete steps in the front of the building. She hailed a cab for the return trip to Reagan National. She had been back in Washington long enough.
    Just as she opened the rear passenger door to the cab, someone grabbed her arm from behind.
    “I need to talk to you,” a voice said.
    Jessica jerked her head around and faced the voice. Gradually she backed into the