I never spent it before, because nothing seemed important enough. A new car? A vacation? A boat? None of those could come close to honoring their memory.
But this? A company that will hopefully save lives? That will protect people so they don’t end up like Clara or Dana? I can’t think of a better thing to spend the money on.
And as I’m learning, Blade and Arrow isn’t just going to help other people. It’s helped me. It’s helped my friends. After that terrible day in Afghanistan, we were all broken in different ways. I thought that part—the best part—of my life was gone. But this new adventure has brought hope back to all of us.
I walk up the path to the entrance of Blade and Arrow, pausing in front of the gleaming metal sign. The name of the company is in bold letters, but it’s something much smaller that my eyes are drawn to. Something tiny, that most people would never notice.
Down in the very bottom-right corner, two sets of initials.AMandJM.
Amy Mitchell and James Mitchell. My parents.
Not for the first time since this idea took flight, my eyes burn with unshed tears.
But not now. Not when there’s so much to celebrate.
Pushing through the double doors, I smile as I take in our newly refinished reception area, the walls painted a blue-ish gray color Nora said is supposed to be soothing. “If we have someone waiting out here, a potential client, they might be nervous,” she explained while we were standing in Home Depot,picking out paint samples. “If it’s one of our pro-bono clients, they might even be scared. So a welcoming reception space might help.”
Looking at it now, with the comfortable armchairs for clients to rest in, end tables with books and magazines to browse, the large cherry desk with a brand new computer sitting on it—it does look welcoming. It looks like the people who run this place know what they’re doing.
We don’t actually have a receptionist yet, but that’s okay. For now, if we have any clients come in, one of us can greet them.
The subject of hiring a receptionist came up a few weeks ago, but I hesitated. The idea of bringing someone new into our close-knit group didn’t sit well with me. After everything, my trust in other people has been bruised, and I know I’m not the only one of the team who feels that way. So there was no complaint when I suggested holding off on hiring office staff, and everyone was happy to volunteer to help with administrative tasks in the meantime.
Maybe one day, I’ll feel differently. Maybe I’ll find someone I trust enough to let into our circle. But not now.
Now, I’m happy to just be with my team.
As I move through the reception area and into the hallway, I almost run smack into Leo, who’s walking with his head down, gaze intent on his phone. I take a quick sidestep to avoid him, and he jerks his head up, an apologetic expression moving across his face.
“Sorry!” he says quickly. “I was checking our email. We have two more requests for security training—one from a CEO who lives in Scarsdale, and the other from an investor out in the Hamptons.”
“That’s great.” My initial concern that we wouldn’t find enough paid work to fund our pro-bono cases is turning out to be the complete opposite. Thanks to referrals and an impressivewebsite outlining our credentials—six former Green Berets with over sixty years of combined experience—we’re already getting more than enough requests.
“I forwarded them to you,” Leo says. “And I’m sending you two pro-bono applications as well. A blackmail case in New Hampshire and a stalking situation in Connecticut.”
“Okay.” I lift my chin. “I’ll take a look, and we can discuss them at our next meeting.” After a beat, I add, “Thanks for handling all the email and website stuff. I know it’s extra work, and if you’re getting bogged down—”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I like doing that kind of thing.” He slides the phone in his pocket. “Are you heading out to the patio? I think Finn’s already out there, making some kind of special drink.”
“I am.” Clapping Leo on the shoulder, I urge him along with me. “Come on. I know you were going to just get back on the computer again. Take a break. Have some burgers.”
Leo shoots me a sheepish look. “I was just going to check a few things with the security. But—” His eyes light up. “I have some beer I was going to bring out. My dad sent some IPA from this great brewery in Waterbury. You’ll love it.”
Inwardly, I grimace at the thought of drinking more beer that tastes like a pine tree, but I try to sound enthusiastic as I say, “Oh. I can’t wait to try it.”
Leo chuckles. “I know what you’re thinking. But this is a Northeastern IPA. It’s fruitier. Less piney.”
“If you say so.”
We walk through the building, passing office doors and the elevator that finally got the green light after some last minute electrical work. I thought about not fixing it at all—we’re all more than capable of taking the stairs—but then I thought about how Rylan might want to rest his knee after a long workout and how the elevator could help.
Not that I said that to him. I just said something about ADA compliance and making it easier to move appliances if we need to get new ones. Which is true. Lugging all those refrigerators up to the second and third-floor apartments isn’t something I want to repeat.
Before we even open the back door, I can hear the rest of my friends outside, talking and laughing. And that prickly feeling hits my eyes again.
Leo glances at me and says quietly, “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being together again.”
“Yeah.” It’s said through a tightening throat. “It is.”
