Part 2
“You’re going to meet them eventually,” Victoria said. “When you do, just don’t talk about your job too much. Don’t mention that you work for the government. If anyone asks, just say you’re in law. That’s technically true.”
“Okay, Victoria.”
“And please, buy a decent outfit. None of your clearance-rack blazers.”
The next six months were fascinating to watch.
Victoria threw herself into becoming someone she believed was worthy of the Reynolds family. She joined the boards of three charities, started attending gallery openings, and hired a personal stylist. Her Instagram turned into a carefully arranged display of elegant dinner parties and cultural events.
She called me once a month with updates.
“Mark’s mother mentioned they vacation in Nantucket. I’m learning about Nantucket. Did you know there’s a difference between Nantucket and the Hamptons, Elena? Of course you didn’t. Mark’s father knows Senator Williams. They went to Yale together. Can you imagine? My future father-in-law knows senators personally.”
Another time, she said, “I met Mark’s sister, Catherine. She’s a partner at a venture capital firm. A partner, Elena. She manages a four-hundred-million-dollar fund.”
I listened, said, “Congratulations,” and went back to my life.
In March, I presided over a public corruption case that made national news. A state senator had been accused of accepting improper payments from developers. The trial lasted three weeks. My rulings were covered by major newspapers and legal journals.
Victoria never mentioned it.
She didn’t read legal news.
In April, I was asked to speak at a Harvard Law symposium on federal sentencing reform. Judge Reynolds was the keynote speaker. We had dinner with several other judges the night before.
“Elena,” Judge Reynolds said over coffee, “I keep meaning to ask — are you any relation to a Victoria Martinez in Arlington? My son Mark is engaged to a Victoria Martinez.”
“That’s my sister,” I said.
His eyebrows lifted. “Your sister? Mark never mentioned that. Does she know you’re a judge?”
“It’s complicated,” I said. “I keep my private life very private.”
He studied me for a moment.
“Your family doesn’t know,” he said.
“No, sir.”
“That must be difficult.”
I shrugged. “It’s easier this way. My sister needs certain things to be true about me. Letting her think I’m unsuccessful keeps her comfortable. Everyone wins.”
Judge Reynolds frowned gently.
“That’s not winning, Elena,” he said. “That’s hiding.”
“With respect, Your Honor,” I replied, “it’s surviving.”
He didn’t push, but I saw something in his expression — concern, and maybe understanding.
In May, Victoria got engaged.
The proposal was elaborate. Mark rented a private room at the Four Seasons, arranged a string quartet, and shared the whole moment on Instagram.
Victoria called me the next morning.
“It’s official,” she said. “I’m going to be part of the Reynolds family. Mark is already talking about me joining his mother’s foundation board. Can you imagine me on a board with federal judges’ wives and senators’ wives?”
“That’s wonderful,” I said.
“We’re having an engagement dinner next month,” she continued. “Small and intimate. Just immediate family.”
Then she paused.
“Which means I need you to come, of course. But Elena, I need you to understand something. This isn’t like our family dinners. These are sophisticated people. Mark’s father clerked for the Supreme Court. His mother studied at Oxford. They’re not going to understand your lifestyle.”
“My lifestyle?” I asked.
“You know what I mean. The government job, the lack of success. Just please don’t talk about work. Don’t mention money. Don’t embarrass me.”
I could have told her then.
Maybe I should have.
Instead, I said, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
