by Hoff, Stacy
I give him dirty look number two.
“I know you’re an adult. You have the ability to look out for yourself. But maybe I’m a little like your mother because I worry about you, too. Take tonight, for instance, I think you’ve had enough to deal with. I’m going home so you can rest.”
“No, stay.”
“‘Night, beautiful,” he says, kissing my forehead. “I hope you get better sleep tonight.” He grabs his coat and walks out the door.
Sunday. 9:30 a.m. My phone rings.
“Were you up?” Jordan asks.
“Barely. I must have zonked out. I’m usually up by six o’clock, even on weekends.”
“I’ve been up since then, but I had to set my alarm to do it. I’m going through a giant stack of work for tomorrow.”
“I can help you, you know. I helped Bill while I was working for you. I can help you while I’m working for Bill. Which files are you talking about?”
“No, we need a clean break, work-wise. I’m just telling you so you don’t wonder why I’m not asking to spend the day with you.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I don’t lay claim to every waking minute of your life.”
“But I want to be with you. Last night was special for me. Please understand that.”
“Special? My mother acted like a psycho.”
“Although I enjoyed meeting your mother, I was referring to the part immediately prior to her visit.”
“Oh. About that . . .”
“Touching you was one of the best moments I’ve ever had.”
“Um . . . really?” Because it can’t possibly be true. “Jordan, you don’t have to make things up to boost my ego. Though it is very sweet of you.”
“I’m being honest. Telling you how I feel is actually a relief. But we can still slow things down. It’s all about your comfort level. Whatever you want, or don’t want, to do.”
“I’ll be honest, too,” I say, shaking so badly I may drop the phone. “I do want to.”
I hear him sigh. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. But it turns out we have yet another ‘logistics problem.’ I won’t be able to see you very much over the next few weeks. Marty’s mom is spending some time with her parents in Florida. That means I’ve got Marty from tonight until New Year’s. We’ll stay here until Christmas and then I’m taking her to Florida. I’ll do the Disney thing with her for a few days until I give her back to her mother. Are you willing to wait a little bit until we can be together?”
“I can’t see you at all? Not until after New Year’s?” I wrestle with my voice to keep it under control.
“Calm down, I didn’t realize I was so physically desirable to you. Or is it my mind you find so attractive?”
Last night didn’t change anything—he’s still King Ego.
“Now you’re the one rubbing it in,” I say sourly. “You don’t need to gloat over the fact I want to be with you. This isn’t easy for me.”
“If you’re so sure about it, then why were you upset when your mother called me your boyfriend?”
“Well, you’re not my boyfriend.” I hesitate. “Are you?”
“Am I?”
“Is that question up to me to decide?”
“Yes. Answer it for me when you’re ready.”
“You can answer my question. I’m not going to see you until January?”
“That’s up to you, too. I’d be happy if you would come over to join Marty and me some nights.”
“Uh, Jordan, I don’t know if that’s a very good idea. She doesn’t even know me. What would she think if she saw some stranger wake up with you?”
“So get to know her first. Join us for dinner.”
“I’d love to. I’ll really try. But David scheduled some weeknight holiday parties, and I’ll have to leave work early those days to go. I’m afraid to leave early too many times during the week because I don’t want to make Bill mad. Plus, I told my mother weeks ago I’d spend at least part of the holiday season with her. That is, assuming I ever speak to her again.”
“You don’t feel comfortable meeting Marty, do you?”
It’s now my turn to sigh. “It’s not that. I just think there’s a lot at stake.”
“Are you saying you don’t know if you should get involved with her because you don’t know if you’re going to stay involved with me?”
“No. I’m saying I’m worried she’ll resent my joining you two. If she doesn’t like me, it may cause me to not like her. I don’t know, I’ve never been in this situation before. I’m not used to being around kids, either, so I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t want to make any of us unhappy.”
“The only solution is for both of you to get to know each other. We’ll go slowly with that, too, all right? How about we all meet up for dinner? Say yes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough for now. Bye, beautiful.”
I hang up and sit down on my bed. Being cut off from Jordan is going to make the next few weeks very long.
CHAPTER 22
My first week at Comm Lit goes horribly. The firm isn’t letting me charge a billable hour to a file if all I’m doing is reviewing it, and all I’m doing is review. There are so many files. An endless, infinite, bottomless pool of files. The reward I’ll get after I’ve successfully delved into all of them is getting to do actual billable work. Legal briefs, court motions, and pre-trials for which I’ll be able to charge the client. Unfortunately, the consolation prize for my submitting sufficient billable hours is puny compared to my effort.
In addition to all the litigation cases Bill assigned me, Jordan has given me a litigation file, too. Melba and Gerard are now having problems with the Canton development deal. Their construction management company wants to delay the project’s schedule.
Melba and Gerard had their construction contract drafted by a different law firm. Now Melba wants to fire the construction manager. Melba’s also irate at the law firm that drafted the contract. Gerard wants to call the construction management firm himself to work out a mutually agreeable time frame. Melba, however, won’t hear of it. She wants new counsel, termination of the contract, and a lawsuit for money damages due to the delay.
She called Jordan in a big huff, asking him to take their case. Jordan explained that real estate was his specialty, but since I’d switched over to litigation, they could use me.
Jordan did not tell me what Melba’s reaction to the news I’d be representing her was. A good guess is she’s not too pleased. Melba’s apparently willing to give me a chance, however. I brace myself for answering to the name of Sarah for the next few months.
Tuesday morning, sitting at my desk, I call Jordan’s office extension.
“Hey, Jordan. I am going to conference call Melba in. But before I do, I want to run over the facts with you again. Was Melba’s contract the standard construction management contract form, or did her last law firm modify it?”
“They modified it.”
“Did she give you a copy of the contract?”
“No, you’ll have to ask for that. All I did was listen to her problem and refer her to you.”
“Let’s give her a call.” With that, I hit the conference button on the phone and dial Melba’s office number. When her voice mail message comes on, I speak over the recording to Jordan, “I’m going to leave her a message.”
“Fine. Let her know I was on the line with you, since she feels like she wants me to hold her hand through this. I don’t know why—”
Jordan stops talking as the beep sounds. I leave my message, “Melba, this is Susan Linkovitch. I have Jordan Grant on the line with me, too. We thought we’d try an impromptu conference call with you to get more facts about your issue with the construction
management company. We’ll try this again at your convenience. Just give me a call whenever is good for you.” I hit the conference button again to disconnect from Melba.
“We’re off the line with her,” I say to Jordan. “I’ll let you know when she calls me back. Did you speak to Bill about my handling this case?”
“Yes, of course. He’s fine with it. Are you?”
“I’m willing to help her, but not if she keeps calling me Sarah. And I hope she’s not going to be as difficult as I think she’s going to be.”
Jordan laughs. “You’re going to have to learn lawyers don’t always love their clients.”
“Trust me, I’m learning. Talk to you later.”
Hanging up the phone, I notice the weirdest thing as I put down the receiver—instead of one phone line light going out, two lights do. Why the second phone line light would go off so long after I de-conferenced Melba, I have no idea. I already hate the snazzy new phone system the Comm Lit division uses. I sigh at the thought of Bill and his love of new office equipment.
It’s Wednesday morning. I see the voice mail message light on my phone lit up. I dial voice mail. The pleasant sounding recorded voice says: “You have six new messages. Press One to hear your new messages . . .” I take a sip of my morning cup of coffee and hit the 1 key.
“Susan, this is Melba. I’m letting you know you did not disconnect the conference call when you think you did. I heard your entire conversation.” Her words are followed by the sound the phone being slammed down.
I swallow hard to avoid spitting the coffee out of my mouth. I almost drop my mug, barely managing to set it down on my desk. I don’t need the caffeine anyway, now that I’m twitching all on my own. In fact, the only chemical help I need at this point is Valium.
I hit the pound key to skip to the next message.
“Sue, this is Bill. I got a call from Melba last night that you and I need to talk about. Immediately. Be sure to see me first thing when you get in.”
I hit the pound key again.
“Sue, it’s Jordan. This is work-related. You need to know Melba’s really pissed at you. You have to speak with me about this, and the sooner the better.”
Pound key.
“Hey, honey, it’s your mother. Well, of course it’s your mother, who else would call you ‘honey?’ Unless Jordan calls you ‘honey,’ but then he still wouldn’t sound like me, so . . .”
Pound key.
“Susan, hey, how are ya! Jerry Spalone here. Long time, no speak, or however that saying goes. Listen, my dad was at your firm the other day, and I had him ask about you. Jordan Grant told him you’re not working for him anymore because you’ve moved over to another division. Well good for you, you’re on to bigger and better things, right? Speaking of bigger and better things, now that you wouldn’t be in the position of dating your boss’ client, why don’t you and I . . .”
I hit the 7 key to delete.
“Susan, this is Helen Stone. I finally found you at your new firm through the bar association. I had to spend my valuable time seeking you out because you never sent back my book, Winning Family Law Cases in Connecticut. You’ve got a week to return it.” Click.
Again I hit the 7 key.
I let out a short shriek. I’m immersed in a clammy sweat. What the hell is with today, anyway? At least I know this much—it’s definitely going to be a long day.
I try a divide and conquer approach with my brain. One part of me has to focus on calming down. I need to concentrate, and that’s very hard to do with nerves so jumpy my whole body twitches.
The other part of me has to decide how best to handle this phone call fiasco and quickly. Because Bill and Jordan want to speak with me right away. No pressure.
Getting up from my desk, I spill out my coffee in the break room and make myself a decaf. I head back to my desk with as much determination as I can muster, considering I want to die. How could I be so stupid? I hadn’t even given the phone system a second thought the other day, I was so certain I knew what I was doing.
Maybe the problem is I don’t know what I’m doing all the time. Mistakes happen from being too cock-sure. Cockiness has gotten me into this situation—maybe being humble is the way out of it. Cringing as I pick up the phone, I dial Melba. Cringe even more when she answers.
“Melba, I hope you are not going to hang up the phone, because it’s me, Susan. But if you are going to hang up, I hope I can at least sincerely apologize—”
“Susan. You have got to be kidding me.”
“I understand you’re mad. I would be too, if the situation was reversed. As awkward as this admittedly is for me, it’s not all bad, from my perspective—”
“Oh, it’s not, is it? Well, it’s not too good from mine—”
“I understand completely. I meant it’s good you brought my gaffe to my attention. I’d rather you tell me what’s wrong than have you silently seethe—”
“I wanted a lawyer, not a therapist. What the hell is your problem anyway?”
I sigh. “The simple blunt answer is that I am a little jealous of you. And I was annoyed that you kept calling me by the wrong name.”
Melba is silent for a minute as she chews on all that. “Jealous? Why?” she eventually asks, her voice sounding guarded.
“Again, the simple blunt answer—I’m jealous of your appearance. I’d rather look like you than me. Not too mature of me, granted, but that’s the reason, nonetheless. So, if I sounded irritated when I spoke about you, that’s why. I am sorry to make you privy to my ridiculous thoughts, but at least you have an honest explanation.” I pause, waiting for Melba to speak, but she remains silent. “In a way I’ve gained something with this screw up,” I continue. “If I ever get jealous again, I’ll turn my focus on myself, and try to grow taller and blonder.”
Despite herself, I’m sure, Melba laughs.
“Look, Melba, I really do want you to be happy. Of course I would like to work with you, but you may prefer to work with someone else in my division. Would you like me to arrange this?”
“I’ll let you know,” she says with a twinge of distrust in her voice.
“If it’s okay with you, I can at least get started so your case is not held up. If you later decide to go with a different attorney, you have my word I will do everything I can to get that other person up to speed very quickly. I did have a quick question for you though; what kind of compromise is Gerard hoping to get with the construction manager?”
“Gerard’s crazy. He wants to give them six months. I say, screw them. That kind of time lag will give our project schedule a deathblow. Not to mention our construction loans will have a higher interest rate kick-in from the delay—”
“Can I get a copy of your construction contract and loan papers? Once I review them, I can talk to the construction manager to see if I can work out a better timeframe because that will still give you a quicker resolution than if you sue. It’ll also prevent you from having to find a new construction manager. And either Jordan or I can talk to your bank for you—”
“You’ll get the documents this afternoon,” she says, abruptly hanging up.
I hang up my phone, too, and breathe deeply for a moment. At least she’s willing to work with me after all that. Now I have to be sure Bill and Jordan are. I push the conference call button and dial them both.
“Yes?” Jordan and Bill answer almost simultaneously.
“It’s Susan. You’ll both be happy to know by this little demonstration I’ve now figured out how to use the conference call feature correctly. Actually, I guess we’ll know better if I’ve mastered it when I attempt hanging up. Anyway, I spoke with Melba a few minutes ago. I apologized to her and offered to switch her to another attorney, figuring it’d be better to have her pull her business from me than the firm itself. But she wants to stay
with me, at least for now. She’s sending over her documents this afternoon.”
I wait for them to say something, but neither speaks. I’m desperate to end this phone call, too. “This isn’t too comfortable for me guys, so is there anything else before I hang up?”
“Thank you for repairing the situation,” Bill says. “We’ll see how successful you were. I will be quizzing you later however, on how to use the phone system.”
I’m not quite sure from the sound of Bill’s voice if he’s kidding. Maybe this foul up was bad enough to warrant a full-blown, written, office technology test. If my employment as a lawyer depends on my passing it, it’ll be my second bar exam.
