Author's Note: While completely irrelevant to this chapter, I just want to take a moment and issue a disclaimer regarding Neil Gorsuch. Of course I couldn't help but notice from the instant he was nominated to the U.S. Supreme Court a few weeks ago that he bore a notable resemblance to Chris Mulready from a canonical standpoint: 49-year-old conservative wunderkind, beloved by the Federalist Society and the Heritage Foundation, author of a book on a hot button political issue, nominated to fill the seat of a notoriously brilliant originalist. However, I have recently been made aware of the fact that Gorsuch bears an even closer resemblance to my own portrayal of Chris Mulready than I had previously realized: married to a woman named Louise with whom he has two young children, co-founder of a newspaper called The Federalist while an undergraduate at Columbia, has even written in support of the need for Congressional term limits. As I had literally never heard of Gorsuch before his nomination, I am extremely freaked out by these similarities, which either point to some bizarre degree of clairvoyance on my part (unlikely), or else to the fact that conservative American judges are apparently more subject to certain tropes than I had anticipated (much more likely). Just thought I would clear up here and now that any resemblance between Neil Gorsuch and my depiction of Chris Mulready is completely and utterly coincidental.
AMENDMENT XIX
Passed by Congress June 4, 1919. Ratified August 18, 1920.
The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.
Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.
"Flowers? Check. Crudités? Check. Sandwiches? Check. Cookies, cupcakes, champagne? Check, check, check."
"Wine, for those of us who don't like champagne," Ann Carmine added drily from where she was perched on the edge of a chair at the opposite end of the Court's dining room table.
"Also check," replied Rebecca Hoyt, crossing a series of items off of the legal notepad that she had been perusing as she paced around the table. "Ah. Plates and cups and napkins. I knew we were forgetting something. We'll have to ask someone to bring some up before the festivities start in earnest."
"Want me to call downstairs?" Evie asked.
"Oh, don't worry about it. We've still got some time." Rebecca shoved her pen behind one ear and sighed. "Wish the men had bothered to show up and help out a little, though. Typical."
Ann nodded solemnly from her chair in agreement. Evie stifled a laugh. Rebecca and Ann had both been on the Court for nearly two decades, and while they had become extremely close friends during that time, the two women couldn't have been more different. Rebecca – who always made it quite clear when she met people that she was neither a Becca nor a Becky – exuded the self-sufficient wholesomeness that one might expect of a woman who had grown up riding horses around her parents' farm, but her good-natured demeanor belied an occasionally-biting steeliness that she had cultivated during her years in the Kentucky State Senate (where disputes over bourbon export tariffs had led to her interest in international arbitration) and later on the Kentucky Supreme Court. Ann, by contrast, was the reserved daughter of a financier whose profession had led to Ann spending much of her childhood in Zürich; professors at Harvard Law School, where Ann had taught a somewhat legendary constitutional law course before being tapped for the Court, attested to the fact that their witty-but-prim colleague still had a tendency to swear loudly in Swiss German when agitated beyond the limits of her endurance. Both Justices had made no secret of their delight when Evie joined them on the bench; and, while Evie usually turned first for advice to Chris (or else to Roberto, whenever getting Chris's perspective seemed like it would be less than helpful), Ann and Rebecca had both been invaluable mentors to her, in their own unique ways.
"You did invite Pat, didn't you?" Ann was asking Rebecca anxiously.
"I did, but he opted not to join us," Rebecca said. "Seemed to think it would be a bit intrusive to turn up at his successor's welcome party."
"I doubt she'd mind, honestly," Evie remarked. "She was just telling me this morning how thrilled she was to have gotten to interact with him as much as she had."
"Well, you know Pat." Rebecca shook her head. "We certainly haven't seen the last of him, bless his heart. I'm convinced that, had cooler heads not prevailed after his stroke, he would have kept at this until he breathed his last. We'll probably have to prize his fingers one by one off the doorframe as he's leaving, every time he comes to visit us from here on out."
"Can you blame him, though?" Ann asked. "What could he possibly do in his retirement that would match being here? I'd certainly be resentful, if I were stuck on the outside of the building, knowing that all of you were in here, still making a difference."
"Retirement might be good for Pat," Evie reasoned. "More time to lecture, to travel, to visit with his grandkids, to work on that book of his that he's been threatening to write for who knows how long. Surely he won't miss us that much?"
Rebecca and Ann stared at Evie, utterly unconvinced. She raised her hands in defeat.
"Or maybe he will. I'll concede that he's definitely the most sentimental of us."
"Big softie," said Rebecca fondly. "Owen used to call him 'Pat the Bunny' to annoy him."
"Owen could be a rascal like that," Ann explained to Evie.
"And I thought Chris was bad," Evie said.
Ann and Rebecca both laughed.
"Oh, Chris is a gentleman," Rebecca said. "Filled with passionate opinions about the law, and I dare say about a host of other issues, too; but never obnoxious for the sake of being obnoxious."
"Which Owen sometimes was." Ann smiled, exasperated. "Well-aware of his own brilliance, and determined to flaunt it before everyone else, inside the courtroom and out. Reminded me of some of my more infuriating students, back in the day. It drove Roy crazy."
"It drove Pat crazy. It drove me crazy," Rebecca added.
"And don't misinterpret our kvetching here," Ann clarified for Evie's sake. "We were quite fond of Owen, and of course we were devastated when he passed away as young as he did. But I won't deny that I breathed a sigh of relief when you and Chris turned up, and you were both so..."
"Pleasant," Rebecca supplied.
"Easy-going," Ann concurred. "Just as brilliant as Owen was, both of you, but not belligerent about it."
"Outside of conference, that is," Rebecca winked at Evie.
"Well," said Evie, embarrassed, "thank you."
"It's always interesting to see how the dynamic changes when people transition on and off the bench," Ann continued. "Obviously, this time it won't be quite as drastic as when you and Chris arrived, but still."
"First time in history the Court's ever sat four women at once, to state the glaringly obvious," Rebecca pointed out. "That'll change things."
"In some ways, yes; and in some ways, no," Ann argued. "For the most part, a vote's a vote, and a colleague's a colleague."
"It does send an important signal," Evie rebutted, sitting halfway on the edge of the table. "Just think, it's been less than one hundred years since women even secured the right to vote in elections, and now we're only one seat away from reaching representational parity at the highest level of one branch of government."
"A branch led by a woman, too," added Rebecca, with a proud nod in Evie's direction.
"The only branch of government that isn't made up of elected officials, though," Ann noted. "And who knows when the other two branches will catch up? There's a lot of latent misogyny still simmering below the surface of society, all across the country."
"But it's still something," Rebecca said firmly.
"Hello?" said a voice from the doorway, and the three Justices turned in unison to see their newest colleague peering around the doorframe. "I know this little shindig isn't technically supposed to start for another 15 minutes, but I thought I'd see if you needed any help setting up..."
"Oh, heavens, that is incredibly thoughtful of you, but you should not be setting up your own welcome party!" Rebecca exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Honestly, where are the guys when we need them?"
"Please do come in, though, if you want to take a seat and just chat with us, while we make sure everything's in order," Evie offered, pulling out the chair next to her at the table.
Jennifer Chang tentatively stepped into the room, closed the door halfway behind her, and teetered expertly on her stiletto heels across the carpet to the offered chair. Evie had never been much of a fashionista, even if she always dressed in a perfectly acceptable manner for her workplace and owned one or two pairs of shoes that always earned her compliments; but she couldn't help but be impressed and even slightly intimidated by the astute sense of style that Jenny had displayed every time she'd seen her. (Rebecca, like Evie, always dressed appropriately but not notably; and Ann, while ever elegant in her presentation, attired herself as was appropriate to her more-mature age.)
"How's the first day going?" Evie asked as Jenny settled herself into the chair.
"Not bad at all," Jenny said cheerfully. "I stopped getting too choked up to function every few minutes, pretty soon after you checked in with me this morning. So my office is all set up by now, and I've just started reading the petitioners' brief in Miller v. Bradley."
"Getting to work right away?" Ann raised her eyebrows. "That's impressive. I think I was too overwhelmed to do anything substantive until after lunch, on my first day."
"I didn't do anything on my first day, but that's only because all of the boys felt obligated to stop by my office, and did so," said Rebecca, who had been the first woman ever appointed to the Supreme Court. "To make sure the new girl on the bench was holding up well enough, I guess. It was very nice of them, but it also meant that I was only able to read a line at a time of anything that I picked up, which was frustrating."
"I can only imagine," grinned Jenny. "Thanks so much for putting together this whole spread, by the way."
"Our pleasure," said Evie warmly. "We're glad to have you with us."
The door of the room unexpectedly and rather vigorously swung open.
"Have you seen Evie?" Chris poked his head into the dining room, frowning. "Oh, there you are. I thought this wasn't starting until noon?"
"It's not, but since you're here, could you call downstairs and ask for some disposable napkins, plates, and cups to be sent up, before things get going?" Rebecca asked.
Chris started, then bristled slightly.
"You want me to call downstairs?"
"I think it seems fair, considering the three of us organized everything else for this party," Rebecca replied evenly, gesturing around her.
"Baked cupcakes and cookies," Evie explained.
"Bought sandwiches and wine," Ann chimed in.
"Only if you have time, though," Rebecca added.
Chris shot Evie a look that clearly indicated how betrayed he felt by her complicity in this dismissal, then turned on his heel and retreated with a palpable degree of indignation. Evie strongly suspected that he would appear in her chambers later that day to complain about his treatment at the hands of the three female Justices.
Jenny appeared both startled and impressed by the entire interaction that she had just witnessed.
"Damn," she said, staring at the empty doorframe. "Think he'll actually go make the call, now?"
"Of course he will," said Ann confidently. "As we were just saying, Chris is a gentleman, and a responsible one, at that."
True to Ann's prediction, Chris did call food services downstairs, and the necessary supplies were delivered just around when the male Justices arrived at the dining room to greet their newest colleague. (Roberto, to his credit, did stay to help the women clean up after the party had petered to an end, but Evie suspected that this was mostly because he and Jenny were by that point deep in a discussion about the definition of probable cause under the Fourth Amendment.) And, true to Evie's prediction, a visibly ruffled Chris turned up in her office later that day.
"So, what do you think of Jenny?" she asked him before he could say anything.
"Spirited," he replied after a moment's thought. "But I guess anyone coming in from the Ninth Circuit would be expected to have a high degree of confidence from the start; it really is its own little high court, out there."
"I like her a lot," Evie smiled. "Interesting, funny, clearly smart as a whip. And don't get me wrong, I couldn't ask for better friends and mentors than Rebecca and Ann, but it'll be nice to have a woman closer to my age on the Court."
Chris frowned at her.
"Does it really make that much of a difference?"
Evie raised her eyebrows at him.
"Yes, Chris. It actually does."
Chris looked even more stung than he had upon entering her office. Evie sighed.
"Look, Chris, you know that I adore you. You know that I adore Roberto, and Ron and Paul and Harry. But there are some things that you don't really understand about my lived experiences because you've never had to exist in this world as a woman. And that isn't a good thing or a bad thing – just a truth. I suspect that, if you asked Paul about Roberto joining the Court, he might say something similar about the comfort of having another person of color around, even if his and Rob's experiences have been extremely different."
"I like to think that I'm reasonably perceptive when it comes to your perspectives," Chris said defensively.
"You try to be," said Evie kindly. "I'll certainly give you that much."
"What does that mean?" snapped Chris.
"I could tell that you were annoyed when Rebecca asked if you would get the plates and napkins earlier today," Evie began.
"I'm very fond of Rebecca, but even you have to admit that she can be incredibly bossy sometimes," Chris interrupted her.
Evie let an uncomfortable silence rest between them before beginning again.
"I could tell that you were annoyed with Rebecca, even though she asked you nicely to help out with something that wasn't at all unreasonable..."
"It's not my job to help plan the parties around here!" Chris argued.
"Well, it's not mine, either, but someone has to do it," Evie retorted.
"No one has to do anything. It's not like the Constitution requires new members of the Court to be fêted on arrival."
"Of course not, but I remember that you were pretty delighted when everyone greeted us that way. It's a nice tradition, and it's not like it happens all that often."
"That's another thing," Chris grumbled. "I didn't appreciate you three belittling me, especially in front of a new member of the Court."
"How on earth were we...?"
"Making it seem like I wasn't pulling my weight for something that was never my responsibility in the first place?"
"OK," said Evie in the voice that she used to reserve for her son when he was getting too cheeky, "first of all, you could have asked weeks ago what you could do to help. That's what Ann and I did, when Rebecca sent out that email suggesting that we plan something. It wouldn't even have had to have been something time-consuming; just contributing some food, or money to pay for food, would have been great. Second, when Rebecca made her request today, you could have just said, 'Sure, I'll get on that right away,' or, 'Sorry, I'm wrapped up in something,' rather than making a production out of her ask and the fact that you clearly thought it was beneath you..."
"Again, this was not in the job description, as I understood it when I signed up," Chris asserted.
"But it needed to get done, and you knew that one of us would have had to do it, if you hadn't," Evie pointed out. "We weren't asking you to do anything that we wouldn't have been willing to do ourselves, if you had said no. So, why get so self-important and act as if we shouldn't even have asked you? We're nine equal votes on this Court; you're not superior to any one of the rest of us."
Technically, Evie could argue with some legitimacy that her role as Chief Justice actually made Chris ever so slightly inferior to her in official stature. But given that Chris was fuming silently as it was, she decided not to irk him further with this reminder.
"Oh, just go ahead and say it already, Evie," Chris burst out. "You think I was being sexist by acting as if party-planning was below me, but not below you or Rebecca or Ann."
"Your words, not mine," said Evie delicately.
"I don't think it's below me; I just don't have any interest in it."
"Neither do I, Chris. Neither does Ann, really. And yet we still pitched in when asked, without too much hemming and hawing. Maybe it's a gendered thing, maybe it's not; but that behavior is pretty consistent with a pattern that I've witnessed throughout my entire life."
"Are you sure you're not just unnecessarily reading a feminist argument into this whole situation?" Chris asked. "It feels sort of like your ludicrous contention that the Queen of the Night isn't the villain of The Magic Flute."
"She's really not."
"She spends the entire opera trying to kill Sarastro."
"No, she spends the entire opera trying to rescue her daughter from being brainwashed by Sarastro's misogynistic cult. Killing Sarastro only becomes a part of her plan when she runs out of all other options. And if she were a man, they'd cast Liam Neeson in the role and make an action film about her epic and just fight against her daughter's heinous kidnappers."
Chris rolled his eyes.
"You know Rebecca likes you, Chris," Evie said. "In fact, she and Ann were just telling me how much they liked you, before you and Jenny showed up. If Rebecca's treating you with the directness with which she would treat me or Ann, that means that she's comfortable enough around you that she doesn't feel like she needs to modify her language to accommodate your feelings."
"Why would anyone ever need to do that?" Chris asked irritably.
"You have no idea," Evie sighed. "If Harry had come in, instead of you, how do you think he would have reacted if Rebecca had asked him for a hand, in exactly the way she asked you?"
"I regret to say that I'm not privy to the innermost thoughts of Henry Clark and therefore can't possibly predict what he would have done," Chris said drily.
"Says the man who professes to be able to channel the will of the Framers themselves," Evie scoffed. "I'll tell you, then. Harry would have flat-out refused to help in any way, unless Rebecca had framed her ask as more of a plea for chivalrous aid, in her foolish and helpless moment of need."
"Honestly?" Chris looked less than convinced.
"Yes, honestly. All three of us do our fair share of hedging to avoid unnecessary conflict."
"It sounds somewhat manipulative."
"You and a fair portion of the world call it duplicitous; I call it a learned means of survival in an unbalanced workplace." Evie frowned at Chris. "Let me guess: After you called for the supplies, you went and complained to Ron about how Rebecca was pushing you around."
"That's framing it a bit harshly," replied Chris, flushing.
"Well, it reflects how you feel, doesn't it? Even if we can both agree that a polite request is hardly tantamount to workplace harassment. And now, in about a week, Ron will probably bring up in passing to Rebecca that you felt like she had been bullying you, and Rebecca will then have to tell Ron that all she did was ask you to do her a small favor that she would have asked anyone else on this Court to do. And he probably still will continue to believe you over her, because, as wonderful as Ron is, the Supreme Court is not immune to gendered expectations of deference."
Chris scowled.
"Are you done lecturing me?"
"Since you don't seem to be absorbing much of what I'm saying, I guess I am."
With a sigh of frustration, Evie slumped against the back of her chair, resigned. Chris continued to frown at her for a long moment, and then shook his head.
"Look, Evie, you must realize that I've never seen you as anything less than an intellectual and professional equal."
"I know," she said wearily. "But that doesn't mean that there aren't larger societal pressures at work around the way you think about this Court and even our relationship. I promise I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Chris. I'm just trying to explain my perspective, which, seeing as we're not a monolith, may not even be quite the same as Rebecca's or Ann's."
"Or Jenny's."
"Or Jenny's," Evie agreed. "I keep forgetting that there are four of us now. The Three Ladies, plus a spare."
"Or maybe the Three Ladies, plus one Queen of the Night?"
"I'll choose to take that as a compliment, if you're implying what I think you are."
A knock on the door made Chris turn, and he stepped out of the way as Jenny Chang peered into the room.
"I'm so sorry!" she said, starting to close the door. "I'll come back later..."
"By all means," Chris objected, gently pulling the door open so that Jenny could enter. "I was just leaving."
Evie threw up a hand in a parting wave as Chris strode out the door. Jenny shot a worried look after him.
"I hope I wasn't disturbing anything?" she asked Evie.
"Just chatting," Evie sighed. "How's Miller?"
"More engrossing than I would have anticipated." Jenny glanced again out the door that Chris had just exited, and then dropped into the chair opposite Evie. "I have to confess, I didn't really have a chance to talk to him in much depth at the party earlier today, and I'm not really sure what to expect."
"Because of Bellington?"
Jenny nodded. During her confirmation process, it had come out that she had been in a long-term relationship with another woman throughout most of her law school years. The press had, predictably, given the revelation a disproportionate degree of sensationalist coverage, and numerous conservative Senators had grilled Jenny on the issue as stridently as they could throughout all three days of her hearings. In spite of the unwavering support displayed by President Santos for his nominee, and in spite of the positive support of numerous advocacy groups and prominent individuals, Jenny had only squeaked by with a majority of the Senate voting in her favor, and that was only because the Democrats held more than half the chamber. Evie hadn't brought up the whole matter until now, simply because she couldn't begin to imagine how traumatic coping with the very vocal negative response must have been for Jenny.
"Look," she reassured her new colleague, "I can't try to explain why Chris holds the views that he does, but I can promise you that he's always been unfailingly polite and friendly on a personal level with everyone who has ever worked in this building."
"Well, that's good to know," laughed Jenny shakily. "I was a little nervous he'd dislike me on principle."
"Never," Evie smiled. "I can't guarantee that you'll be able to put all of the media nonsense behind you forever, but now that you're here, you shouldn't worry about the reactions of any of the people on this Court. We're all delighted to have you join us."
"Even Ron Dreifort?" asked Jenny skeptically.
"Even Ron," Evie promised. "If he's acting curmudgeonly towards you, that's just because it generally takes him a while to warm up to new people."
"Got it." Jenny sighed. "I really can't thank you enough for how kind and thoughtful you've been throughout all of this, Evie. The note that you sent me during my hearings really buoyed my spirits."
"I thought you could use a little moral support. It's a scary process, as I remember only too well."
"God, yes. And you didn't even have a bombshell revelation drop in the middle of yours."
A shiver suddenly ran up Evie's spine, and she pulled her suit jacket off the back of her chair and over her shoulders.
"No, I didn't," she agreed. "I was lucky."
Jenny looked at Evie somewhat quizzically, but simply nodded.
"Well, I mainly just came by to say thank you for everything, since I didn't quite have the presence of mind to do so earlier. For the party, too."
"That was all Rebecca," Evie explained. "She's the one you should really thank."
"I will. Oh, and I was also wondering if there's anything special that I need to wear for the official photographs tomorrow?"
Evie could remember asking Ann the exact same thing on her first day on the Court. She had wondered then if it was something that Chris had even thought to ask any of their colleagues, and she still doubted that he had.
"Whatever you'd like," she told Jenny. The most important thing, after all, was the black robe that would go over whatever Jenny chose to wear, and that was uniform for all nine of them.
