I felt so tired. So very tired, and incredibly sad. Directly across from me, as if accusing me of something, was the wall of polished cherry bookcases that housed all of the deal books and closing sets for every transaction I had ever worked on during my career here at Parsons Valentine. There was my prized collection of deal toys—a glittering menagerie of polished silver and glass figurines and trophies and cubes and globes. There was the tiny bronze soccer ball from the acquisition of a large sporting goods retailer, the first deal I’d ever closed at the firm. It was nestled next to a gleaming model jet plane—a souvenir of the merger of two commercial airlines I’d successfully handled the year before. On the shelf below that stood a small framed snapshot of me and Rachel at the housewarming party we’d thrown in our first New York apartment, and another photograph of me with my parents the day I’d been sworn in to the New York Bar, almost nine years ago. My mother, father, and I were standing on the sidewalk outside the First Appellate Department building, down by Madison Square Park.
What do You think about The Partner Track: A Novel?
