Lisa See - The Interior

In Los Angeles, David bunked at his house under the Hollywood sign with Special Agent Eddie Wiley. It had been a little over a month since David left Los Angeles, but already the city, his house, his own bed seemed foreign to him. He longed to be home with Hulan. Still, he went about his business. He stopped in every day at Phillips amp; MacKenzie, the " amp; Stout" having been dropped. The publicity had been bad, but as Phil Collingsworth and the other partners assured David, they'd known nothing of Miles's shenanigans. They were at pains to verify that their invitation to come back to the firm had not only been sincere but had been in the pipeline for many months before making the offer, (In retrospect, Phil recalled that Miles-while finally joining the unanimous vote-had been the only partner to voice last-minute opposition to David's return. Once he was in, Miles had manipulated the situation as only a fine- though ultimately corrupt-mind could.) Miles had been the firm rainmaker, but the firm was bigger than one man. In fact, billable hours were up thanks to Randall Craig and the various federal investigations nipping at Tartan's heels. The only real cost to the firm was in redesigning the logo on the door and reprinting the firm's stationery.

Phil and the others encouraged David to stay with the firm and keep the Beijing office open. David, whose belief in the law had been so tested during this past year, found himself drawn in by his partners' sentiments. If anything, his love of the law had been reaffirmed. Justice didn't always follow the rulebook. The outcome could often be unsatisfactory and unsatisfying, but this time around David felt that, despite the twists and turns, justice might be served.

His duty to seeing that happen was not yet done. All of the principals were either dead or awaiting execution in China. However, the story had indeed sparked the interest of the U.S. Attorney's Office, which had initiated a thorough investigation into Tartan's overseas operations. As a result David spent several days testifying before the grand jury, but most of his responses consisted of "I can't answer that due to attorney-client privilege." Since he no longer had an office in the criminal courts building, he holed up in Rob Butler's. There weren't many witnesses who were accorded such VIP treatment, but David and Rob were friends. That friendship made it all the harder for David to ask Rob why he hadn't told him about Keith.

"Told you?" Rob said. "What could I have told you? He came in here wanting to get political asylum for that girl, but he had no proof that she was in any political danger or that she was an important dissident. Then he asked me if the reason I wouldn't help was because we were investigating him. I told him we'd checked out what that reporter had written months before and had found nothing. But Keith didn't believe me."

David thought back to Keith's mood on that last night-his desperation, his anxiety, even his anger. So much misery could have been prevented if Keith had only told the truth. Rob and David too, for that matter.

"Before I went to China I asked you straight out-"

"If there was a Keith Baxter investigation and if there was any chance that Keith could have been the target and not you on that night," Rob finished for him. "First, I want you to know that I never would have let you go to China if I thought Keith had been the intended victim. But how could I have thought that anyway? Keith came to me about a girl-"

"What about the investigation?"

"That day Madeleine said there wasn't one, and there wasn't. But I also said that maybe his name had come up in another matter."

"And what was I supposed to take from that?"

"What I would have taken if the tables had been reversed. Nothing. Look, I couldn't tell you why he was here, just like you couldn't tell all of us what was happening in China. We have that pesky thing called confidentiality. And remember, Keith was my friend too. He was dead. Was it any of your business that he'd come in here with some crack-brained scheme-lying to me the whole while, by the way-to get his girlfriend over here? I decided the least I could do to protect his memory was keep my mouth shut. You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

This caused David to look even closer at his own actions. What if he'd confronted Miles at the funeral, pushing past the platitudes and facile excuses? But like Rob, David had made protecting his friend's memory a priority. Then, when the job offer came up, it had been so easy to bury his concerns as he became consumed with the idea of getting back to Hulan. He'd have to live with the knowledge of that moment of selfishness for the rest of his life.

Two days later, after completing his testimony, David found himself drawn to the Stout estate, having heard that Mary Elizabeth was going back to Michigan. The driveway was chockablock with trucks from moving companies, auction houses, and charitable organizations. David wandered inside and found Mary Elizabeth, in jeans and a T-shirt, orchestrating the packing and giving away of her family's worldly possessions. A sorrowful look came over her face when she saw him, and-wordlessly she motioned for him to follow her. They stood out on the terrace. It was a beautiful late summer day, and the scent of roses filled the air.

"I never wanted all this." Mary Elizabeth's gesture took in the gardens, the mansion, the view, the life she and Miles had built. "But he wanted it. He wanted it badly."

"How much did you know?"

"I only knew his dreams," she answered. "And even those were always… I knew he was unhappy. Remember back when Michael Ovitz left CAA and moved to Disney? He was arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood, but he still had to fetch Julia Roberts a glass of mineral water if she asked for it. Well, that's how Miles felt. He made tons of money, but he had to be available whenever a client wanted him."

David remembered what Doug had said about Miles. "Is it true that Tartan had offered him a job?"

"Yes, as general counsel. He would have been the client, don't you see?"

There seemed nothing more to say, and they turned back toward the house. Mary Elizabeth reached out and put a trembling hand on his arm. "Did he…" She began in a quavering voice, but she couldn't finish.

"No, he didn't suffer. He didn't even know what happened."

In early September, Hulan was resting on a chaise longue in the central courtyard of her family compound when Neighborhood Committee Director Zhang paid her customary call. The old woman, wearing a black jacket and black trousers, hung onto David's arm and wrinkled her face up at him in delight as he escorted her outside. She sat down opposite Hulan on a porcelain garden stool. As soon as David went inside to make tea, Madame Zhang said, "He is funny, that one. I see he is practicing his Mandarin, but aiya, to my ears it is frightful and hilarious at the same time." Hulan had been trying to teach David basic sentences: Welcome. How are you? Okay. How much? That's too expensive. How is your son? Can you tell me… But he was as competent as a toddler in split pants. Lately she'd begun to think it would be better for him to forget the project entirely because his tones were abysmal, and, as Madame Zhang noted, they resulted in some amusing mistakes.

"What did he say today?"

"Qing wen…" Madame Zhang said, purposely missing the fourth tone of wen and replacing it with a third, thereby changing the meaning from "Please, may I ask" to "Please kiss."

Hulan smiled as the Neighborhood Committee director cackled in pleasure.

"He could kiss me if he wants," the old woman added. "He is not so ugly as I once thought."

David returned with the tea, set it on the table, and retired to the other side of the courtyard, where Hulan's mother, her nurse, and Vice Minister Zai sat under the twisting branches of the jujube. Jinli didn't understand who David was, although she accepted his presence without question; nor did she understand that she would soon be a grandmother. But she seemed to find comfort in her childhood home and, while still not appreciating the raucous cymbals, gongs, and drums of the yang ge troupe, had grown more accustomed to the cacophonous morning ritual. David had found another way to deal with it. He'd joined the troupe.