Child's Play

by Danielle Steel

  Scott came out of the conference room a couple of times to go to the men’s room, but Kate could read nothing on his face. They were called in at last, and Kate was feeling optimistic since it had taken them so long to discuss the offer, and she expected to hear that their offer had been accepted. Instead, Scott addressed her, standing in front of her the moment she sat down.

  “Miss Morgan,” he began, looking pompous again, which was his official persona, when representing his client. “Or is it Mrs.? What exactly is your marital status?” he asked haughtily, and she almost laughed.

  “It’s Mrs. I’m a widow. I don’t see what that has to do with this case.” His client had said “rake them over the coals.” He hadn’t added details, so Scott had thrown that in, allegedly to embarrass her, but he was actually curious himself.

  “Mrs. Morgan,” he emphasized, “do you have any idea how insulting your offer is to my client? Do you and your colleagues not understand the suffering and humiliation he experienced when the deal failed? Are you not cognizant of how sloppy your client’s practices are, how fully responsible he is for the money my client lost? Are you not mortified by making us an offer like this? So paltry, so pathetic, so completely without merit? You should be ashamed of yourselves.” His glance took in her partners seated in the room. All the big guns were there. It was a ridiculous speech, an affront and highly offensive, but she knew it was what his client expected from him. She would have hated Scott if he hadn’t knelt at her feet bandaging her knees two weeks before. It was the only way she knew he was a real human being, and not the total horse’s ass he’d been hired to be for his client.

  His insulting speech went on for half an hour, while her client looked unhappy and started to lose patience, and her partners looked furious. It was all a long-winded way of his client saying no, and refusing the settlement. They had to go back to the drawing board, but neither her partners nor their client were willing to offer more.

  She managed to say quickly, that if the offer was refused, they would go to trial, which no one wanted to do.

  “Is it war then?” Scott asked her, sounding theatrical.

  “If you want to call it that. It’s a trial, Mr. White. If we can’t make a deal, and we’ve made our best offer today, then we’ll go to trial as I just said. We will leave our offer on the table for seventy-two hours, for your client to reconsider. After that, our offer will be withdrawn.”

  “I understand,” Scott said for the benefit of the court reporter typing a transcript of the proceedings, so they couldn’t say later that they didn’t know the deal would be off the table in seventy-two hours. It was a tedious business, and Scott looked as fed up as she was.

  Kate and her partners waited for opposing counsel to leave with their client. They took their time. As Scott marched past her stone-faced, he whispered almost inaudibly, “I’m sorry.” No one heard him but Kate. She showed no reaction other than a barely perceptible nod.

  As soon as they’d left, her partners exploded. Their client looked discouraged. It was an incredible waste of time and money. They’d probably go to trial on it in a year, maybe two. They were prepared to. The heat might have gone out of it by then. Sometimes litigation like this was settled on the courthouse steps the night before the trial, or the morning of it. But in the meantime, they had to prepare for a trial.

  She didn’t hear from Scott afterward. It would have been inappropriate and there was nothing left to say. It was all in his client’s hands.

  * * *

  —

  The following day, Kate had dinner with all three of her children at Le Bernardin, one of the best restaurants in New York, before they left for their respective trips on Wednesday, either to see their de facto in-laws, or in Claire’s case to get some sun. Since Reed’s parents were both deceased, and he had no siblings, he liked going away for holidays, and was thrilled to have Claire to spend them with now. He was looking forward to Christmas Eve at Kate’s. He seemed hungry for family connection.

  Anthony was looking forward to going to Puerto Rico with Alicia. He had met her mother who lived in the Bronx now in a tiny apartment. He could see where Alicia got her looks. Now he was going to meet her father and his second family in San Juan. She had five half brothers and sisters, all younger than she was, in their early to mid-twenties.

  And Tammy was going to Columbus, Ohio, with Stacey, where her parents and brother and his family lived. She had met them all before and enjoyed them. Then they were going to Sun Valley, Idaho on Friday for the weekend to ski.

  Anthony and Tammy felt guilty leaving their mother, and Claire didn’t say anything. She was quiet and sullen through most of dinner, which Anthony told her had become really boring. None of them had brought their partners along. It was family only, so they could speak more freely, and Anthony called Claire a spoiled brat several times. He finally had enough and snapped at her at the end of dinner.

  “I don’t see why you need to be a bitch to Mom. She doesn’t like you having a baby out of wedlock and showing off about it, and not getting married. She’s entitled to her opinion. Most people, particularly of her generation, feel that way, so why do you have to be such a bitch to her? Frankly, I don’t think it’s cool either. I wouldn’t do what you’re doing, and Alicia wouldn’t either. We talked about it. And neither would Tammy, I know her. So why do you have to be the odd man out and be so shitty to Mom on top of it? I just don’t get it. Couldn’t you at least be a little apologetic, out of respect for her? Would that cost you so much?”

  “I’ll get married when I want to, not when I have to. No one can dictate to me when I should get married. And I don’t owe anyone an apology for living my life the way I want to. I support myself, so I don’t owe anyone anything,” she said nastily, as Kate looked pained.

  “No, you don’t,” Anthony corrected her. “Reed supports you, and you’re damn lucky he does. You’re living like the Queen of Sheba, and being snotty to Mom on someone else’s dime.” Claire’s face turned red.

  “This isn’t about money,” she argued hotly.

  “No, it’s not. It’s about manners, and traditions, and morals, and respect for how you grew up, and everything Mom did for us. You don’t pay that back by snubbing her because she’s upset that you’re having a baby out of wedlock. She has every right to be upset about it. People are going to say nasty things about you, and that hurts all of us because we love you.”

  “I don’t give a damn what people say,” she snapped back at him.

  “Apparently. So Mom should be humiliated by your bad behavior, AND have you be nasty to her on top of it? Wow, what a cool deal for her. I hope your kids will be nicer to you than you are to her.” Claire had tears in her eyes but she wouldn’t give in, and didn’t look at Kate, who had tears in her eyes too. Claire suspected her mother would be crying and didn’t want to see her tears. “You’re being a jerk,” he added.

  “That’s enough,” Kate stepped in then and they stopped.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Mom?” Tammy asked her. “Are you going to a restaurant with Grandma?”

  “No, I’m cooking squab from a French recipe at home, with all the fixings, including chestnut stuffing. And then we’re going to a movie. And don’t forget our Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “We’re going to Saint Bart’s,” Claire chimed in to get out of it. Anthony gave her a furious look.

  “No, you’re not,” he said. “Reed told me you’re going the day after Christmas, so you’d damn well better be there on Christmas Eve with the rest of us, or I’ll kick your ass,” he threatened her as he had when they were teenagers.

  “Why don’t you have Alicia do it?”

  “I will, and believe me, that would be a lot worse for you than if I did it. She’s hell on wheels.” Tammy laughed at the thought, and dinner wound down after that. They’d had a nice time together, in spite of Claire.
Then they all kissed and hugged and wished each other a happy Thanksgiving, and went their separate ways. Reed had a car and driver waiting outside the restaurant for Claire. Anthony and Tammy shared an Uber, and Kate went uptown in a cab. She wondered when Claire was going to relax again, and if she ever would. Or if she was trying to separate from her mother and the family. At least she had shown up.

  They all called to say goodbye and thank her the next day, and that night she was studying her French cookbook so she didn’t screw up the squab. She started cooking early Thursday morning, and Margaret arrived at eleven. By some sheer miracle, the squab was absolutely perfect and a golden brown when Kate served it, with a delicate sauce, chestnut stuffing, wild rice, and an assortment of vegetables. She even made popovers which she knew her mother loved.

  “I think this is the best Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had,” Margaret said happily. “I can’t believe you cooked it.”

  “Neither can I,” Kate admitted. She had bought small apple, pumpkin, mince, and pecan pies for dessert, and made whipped cream to put on top. They both had a sliver of each, and Kate served cappuccino with dessert.

  “That was a four-star meal,” Margaret said when they sat on the couch after dinner.

  Kate missed the kids, but as long as they were coming for Christmas, she was happy, and willing to give them up for Thanksgiving. She was planning to use the weekend to catch up on work, do some things around the apartment, and some reading. She had already started Christmas shopping, and wanted to do more of that too. She had found a pink cashmere sweater for Alicia, a good-looking tweed jacket for Stacey, and a pair of cuff links for Reed. She was working her way down a list for her own children. She wanted to do some shopping with Claire for the nursery, but she didn’t seem to be interested in doing it with her. Claire was determined not to share the experience with her mother, to punish her.

  Kate was putting some linens away when her phone rang on Friday morning at ten o’clock. She assumed it was her mother, scurried down the ladder she’d been using and answered. There was a male voice she didn’t recognize at the other end. He asked for her, and then she knew who it was. It was Scott White.

  “Happy Thanksgiving. Jesus, was that ever a nightmare at the settlement conference on Monday. I’m sorry I was so rude to you. I get paid to do that by my asshole client, kind of like a Mafia hitman.” She laughed.

  “It’s too bad he won’t take the offer. We won’t go higher.”

  “I told him that, and you shouldn’t. Just please don’t tell me that I can’t cash in my raincheck until after a trial. That could take years. How about when the settlement bullshit is officially over? We won’t have any professional dealings before the trial after that for months, probably a year. Will that do it?”

  “I suppose so,” she said cautiously. She didn’t know why he wanted to have a drink with her, other than to complain about his client.

  “How was your Thanksgiving?” he inquired.

  “Nice. Quiet. All my kids were away with their significant others. I missed them. I had lunch with my mother.”

  “That’s nice of you. How many kids do you have?”

  “Three. Do you have children?” she asked, faintly curious about him.

  “No, I don’t. I’ve never married. I’m an old maid.” He laughed.

  “These days you can have children and not be married,” she said, thinking of Claire. “It’s not too late.” She guessed him to be in his mid to late forties, still young enough to have kids.

  “I’m forty-eight and I’m not dying to have kids. That looks scary and stressful to me,” he said. “And I’m getting a little old to start a family, with a woman half my age. Somehow that has never appealed to me.”

  “Sometimes it is stressful,” she admitted, thinking of the past few months with her own. “But it’s worth it. It’s not easy though. It is when they’re little, and not so much so when they grow up.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. That’s what my parents said. I believed them.”

  “What did you do for Thanksgiving?” It was odd talking to him like they were friends. He seemed to want to be, ever since he had bandaged her knees.

  “My mother passed away a few years ago. My father moved to New Zealand and bought a farm there. It’s too far to go for holidays. And he doesn’t come here. So I have dinner with a group of friends every year. All people who have nowhere else to be. There are a lot of us, around twenty. It’s fun. I made the turkey this year.”

  “I cooked squab, which my mother was astounded I didn’t ruin. I was shocked too. With chestnut stuffing,” she said, sounding proud of herself. “I’m usually a lousy cook, but I got it out of a French cookbook.”

  “I’m impressed. What are you doing the rest of the weekend?” He seemed as though he had nothing to do. He obviously didn’t have a family to be with from what he said, so it was nice that he’d spent the holiday with friends.

  “Work, errands, maybe some Christmas shopping,” she answered.

  “Could we agree that the settlement attempts are over so I can cash in my raincheck for a drink, or dinner and a movie?”

  “Why don’t we give it a couple more weeks to be sure it really is over.”

  “Okay, I draw the line at Christmas. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she agreed.

  “How are your knees, by the way? I couldn’t tell, you had on dark tights at the meeting.” He had obviously looked carefully, which surprised her.

  “They still hurt a little and I’m black and blue, but otherwise they’re fine. You’re a good paramedic.”

  “What are you doing over the holidays?”

  “Christmas Eve with my kids, after that nothing.”

  “I’m going skiing in Vermont for the New Year. I can’t wait. Do you ski?”

  “Not lately. I can’t afford to break a leg. Too many people depend on me. And I’m not a great skier. I like ice skating better.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Here, in New York.”

  “I grew up in Montana, glued to a horse. I came east for college, and stayed, other than my time in the Navy. This is home now. When my father moved to New Zealand, it changed things. He has a good life there and he loves it, but it’s just too far to go and it’s not for me. I’m happy for him though. He’s in his seventies and it’s given him a new lease on life. But my life is here.”

  They talked for a while longer, and then they hung up. She thought about him afterward. He was so different from his brash, aggressive style as an attorney. She liked him better in private life, although she could see he was a good lawyer. It was nice chatting with him and learning more about him. She could easily imagine him on a horse in Montana, but now he was definitely a big city boy.

  She spent the rest of the weekend doing the small tasks around the house she had wanted to do. She did some work, read a novel, and missed her children. They had texted her on Thanksgiving, and she had facetimed Tammy and Stacey. It was a peaceful holiday and a nice break. By Sunday night, she was ready to go back to work again, and looked forward to it. Weekends were lonely without kids or a man in your life. She’d been wrestling with it for years, and work always filled the void.

  * * *

  —

  As it turned out, she’d been right to tell Scott to wait until they considered the settlement period totally over. The week before Christmas, she got a call from Jack Hirsch. They wanted another meeting. Her own team was fed up by then, and thought it was pointless. But they couldn’t refuse, so Kate set it up.

  Jack and Scott walked in with their client, and Scott was stone-faced and barely greeted her. He definitely had two personalities, his professional one, and the one who had called her twice and bandaged her knees.

  Jack took the lead this time. He droned on forever about how insulting their offer was, how insensitive they we
re, how badly the plaintiff had gotten screwed over by their client’s incompetence, and how gravely he had suffered. Kate nearly fell asleep in the meeting, and let her mind wander. They’d heard it all before. Then at the end of his monologue, he said that in spite of how insulting the offer was, their client had decided to accept it, to avoid the headache and expense of a trial. Kate snapped her attention back to the proceedings, and looked at Scott with a quizzical expression. He nodded and smiled.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Kate said under her breath, and one of her colleagues laughed when he heard her. The offer had been off the table for some time, but her client agreed to honor his offer. All of the attorneys stood up and met to shake hands, and the plaintiff walked out without a word to any of them. Good sportsmanship was definitely not his style. Their own client thanked them and left a few minutes later. He was relieved to be rid of the lawsuit and so was Kate.

  The attorneys all stood around talking, and Scott made his way to Kate. “You were right,” he said softly, “I didn’t think we had another round in us.”

  “It’s always better to wait and be safe, and not shut the door.” She was grateful that her client was willing to reinstate the offer, just to get the matter over with.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” She smiled at Scott and he looked puzzled.

  “You don’t have to see your client again—until his next lawsuit. He sues everyone. We’ve been up against him before on other matters.”

  “I don’t care,” Scott said, smiling down at her. He was tall, with dark hair and green eyes, and very good looking, which didn’t really matter. “It means that my raincheck is now valid, and fully redeemable. What are you doing tomorrow? Let’s have a drink to celebrate, and don’t tell me we have to wait till the deal is signed. That’s bullshit.”

  She laughed. “Okay, tomorrow. Deal.” She felt silly having a drink with him, but she felt awkward reneging on a promise, and he’d been so persistent about it. “Where?”