Chapter 6: Welcome to Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny.

Chapter 6: "Welcome to Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny."

In spite of having been wide awake until the wee hours of the morning, Maggie's eyes popped open immediately as her alarm sounded at 6:15 am. Classes were over but there were still finals, one of which she had this afternoon. Besides, she liked the routine of getting up at the same time every day. She couldn't call Murphy, Rannigan until nine, so she threw on workout clothes and left the apartment for a quick run.

More than two hours later, freshly showered following her workout, she sat watching her clock until it blinked from 8:59 to 9:00 before she dialed the number on the business card. The woman who answered was friendly and efficient. Yes, Mr. Rannigan had said to expect her call. Yes, the firm was scheduling follow-up interviews for candidate finalists. Maggie should report to the Murphy, Rannigan offices at nine o'clock sharp on Tuesday morning.

She hung up the phone feeling bewildered. Follow-up interviews? I thought I had a job. She didn't know whether to call Rance as she'd planned or if it would be wiser to wait. She put off making a decision, opting to study for the day's exam.

Every time Maggie thought about Tuesday's appointment, she felt her stomach drop so she busied herself with various projects over the weekend. While she would be staying in her apartment whether she worked for Rance or for Michael, most everyone in their group had to think about moving after next week's graduation. Maggie spent Saturday helping Casey pack all her things in preparation for the move back to Rhode Island.

Tossing aside packing for a few hours, they joined some of the others that night to celebrate Ben's new job with a firm practicing real estate law. "I knew I aced that interview," he told them confidently over pints at Paddy Reilly's.

Tuesday morning finally rolled around and Maggie left her apartment wearing a tan skirt suit paired with a crisp white blouse, low-heeled nude pumps clicking along the pavement as she walked, and she carried with her the worn leather satchel that had once been her father's, her trusty folio tucked safely inside. Worried that transportation issues might cause her to be late, she left for her appointment two hours early. She'd spent time figuring the best combination of trains that would take her to Park Avenue and the highrise that housed the offices of Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny.

I am such a dork, she thought, rolling her eyes as she realized that she'd arrived at the office building exactly an hour before her appointment. Rather than entering the building so early, she ducked into a coffee shop across the street for a cup of tea, hoping to soothe her nerves. Sipping hot Darjeeling, she stared across the street and up the front of the building that was her destination. The law offices of Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny occupied the top six floors of the building, or so she'd read online. The swirling in her stomach returned with a vengeance.

At 8:55 she pushed her way through the revolving door and into the lobby, and she rode the elevator up to the 45th floor, approaching the reception desk at the stroke of 9:00. "I'm Maggie Flynn," she said. "I have a nine o'clock appointment."

The attractive woman at the desk smiled warmly. "Yes, Ms. Flynn, you're expected. If you'll return to the elevators, you can go up two floors to the conference room on the 47th floor. They're waiting for you there."

Maggie watched the receptionist vanish as the elevator doors closed. They? Watching the numbers move from 45 to 46 then 47, she realized her palms were sweating and she wiped them hurriedly on her skirt as the doors slid open. She stepped out into a marble reception area where another friendly woman greeted her.

"Ms. Flynn," she said, walking around the desk, "if you'll come with me, I'll show you to the conference room." Maggie followed the woman down the hallway to a set of double doors, which she opened. "Maggie Flynn," she said into the room before stepping back and holding out her hand in a sweeping gesture, indicating that Maggie should step inside.

The first thing she noticed was the scent of wood polish. The long room was dominated by a huge mahogany conference table and the walls were paneled wood as well. The table was surrounded by dark brown leather chairs. Seated in the center on the far side of the table were three men. Maggie was immensely relieved to see that one was Michael.

He smiled kindly at her. "Hello, Mary Margaret Flynn," he greeted her, chuckling. "Come in, sit down. Gents, this is Maggie Flynn," he said to the other two men. Maggie forced her feet to take her to the table where she selected a leather chair opposite the men. "We met Maggie at NYU the other day. Very impressive resume and recommendations as you can see. She also knocked the interview out of the park."

He paused, smiling at her again. "Maggie, these guys are my partners Brian Murphy and James Metheny. Murph was on vacation last week," he continued, indicating the man to his immediate left. He was blond and slightly balding and he seemed to Maggie to be a little older than Michael.

"And Jimbo is just getting back on his feet from surgery." The man to Murphy's left seemed about fifteen years older than Michael, thin grey hair crowning a face that was pale, but that might have been the result of being ill.

"So tell us about Maggie," Brian Murphy said. The men looked at her expectantly. Michael leaned back from the table resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, fingertips pressed together forming a steeple in front of him.

Maggie opened her mouth. "I, um, well," she began uncertainly, "I graduate on Sunday. You see my resume with my curriculum vitae, so…"

James Metheny stepped in. "We see all that. We'd like to know about who you are," he said kindly. "Where you're from, for starters."

Maggie glanced at Michael who was watching her intently. "Oh, I'm from North Carolina originally," she said. "Charlotte, to be specific."

Murphy smiled. "I don't hear an accent," he observed.

"No, you don't," Maggie agreed. "I realized early on that people mentally deduct about twenty IQ points when they hear a Southern accent." The men chuckled appreciatively.

"So your family is back in North Carolina?" Metheny probed.

A slight frown crossed her face. "No, actually," she answered truthfully. "I was raised by my father. My mother left us when I was little. She wasn't into raising a family, apparently."

She scanned their faces for signs of skepticism or mockery but found only sympathetic looks. "Anyway, my dad did the best he could. He was an architect. We spent weekends and summer vacations checking out old buildings. He passed on to me his love for old houses and buildings with character, with soul."

Murphy smirked. "So you're not a fan of modern glass and steel?"

"Oh, God, no!" Maggie exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically.

"Sorry, Michael, your new protégé hates your house," Murphy teased.

Maggie felt her face redden. She'd said something dumb and she wasn't quite sure what it was. Michael laughed gently. "And your dad is retired now?" he asked.

"Uh, no. My father died during my freshman year at Duke. He was hit by a drunk driver, and…" she trailed off. "Well, it was rough, but he raised me to be independent. Afterward, there was insurance money and a settlement which I invested. It wasn't a lot but along with scholarships it helped pay for my undergraduate work and it's paid for my apartment through law school."

The room was silent for a moment. Then Metheny asked, "Do you think your dad would be proud of you?"

Maggie blinked and swiped at a lone tear. "Yeah," she answered quietly. "I think he would be."

He smiled kindly at Maggie. "Michael is impressed with you," he said. "We usually give each other a free pass for one candidate from our own alma maters, but I don't think a free pass is necessary with you."

He stood and reached across the table, smiling. "Welcome to Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny."