Exit Strategies

by Catherine Todd

  Lauren was gazing at her with an expression of apparent interest. I recognized the look from RTA—it meant her mind was elsewhere. She made a small noncommittal sound. “But you’ll have this operation, and then you’ll be able to walk very well, won’t you?” she said to my mother encouragingly.

  My mother sighed. “I don’t want to have it, but the doctor says if I don’t I’ll end up in a wheelchair. I wouldn’t want that,” she added vehemently, oblivious.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Lauren agreed.

  “Sorry,” I told Lauren when we’d excused ourselves and gone into the lounge to get some coffee. “I keep making all these resolutions about what I’m not going to be like at eighty. Think it will do any good?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Ten to one your mother made resolutions too.”

  “My mother’s never been big on introspection,” I said. “It was nice of you to come and see her. What are you doing down here?”

  “Tom’s aunt had emergency gallbladder surgery. He’s with her now.” She smiled. “If you think it’s hard to listen to hip stories, you should try gallstones.”

  I laughed. “You’re a good sport, Lauren.”

  “I try.”

  “I’ll miss you,” I said.

  She turned her head and looked at me. “That sounds valedictory.”

  “I’m going to leave RTA,” I said.

  She didn’t scream or faint with surprise. “And do what?” she asked calmly.

  “I’m not sure yet. I just know I’m not cut out for this. I’m not the type to sharp-elbow my way to the table and perform heroic metabolic feats in order to put in enough billable hours to someday, maybe, make partner.”

  “Have you told anyone yet?” she asked.

  “No, just you.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said. “But why don’t you wait a bit and see if you change your mind? It’s a big step.”

  “I won’t,” I told her. I couldn’t tell her that waiting around to see if Bobbie and Taylor tried to make me a fall guy was not an option.

  “I see,” she said. She paused. “Will you be taking Crystol Enterprises with you?”

  I laughed. “Not a chance. Bobbie’s part of the reason I’m leaving. Not that she’ll want me to represent her anymore anyway. Taylor has more or less assumed responsibility for her legal affairs.”

  “I’m sorry, Becky. I know she was your client. This doesn’t have to mean that you’re cut out entirely.”

  “It does in this case. I’m not sure she ever was my client, really. Look, Lauren, you’ve been good to me. I want to level with you. I think there’s going to be trouble,” I said. “Not now maybe, but sooner or later.” I tried to give her a capsule summary of my misgivings and concerns, as well as my feeling that some embarrassing discovery about Bobbie’s methods, some juicy lawsuit-in-waiting, was practically inevitable. “She’s been careless,” I said. “People are talking. Some witness will turn up, or some child whose mother has died, and the public will turn against her. Not only that, but she’s callous as well. She’s not terribly worried about who gets hurt.” I didn’t tell her about Bobbie’s offshore accounts, but I thought this was enough to put her on her guard. “Protect yourself if you need to,” I added.

  She put her head in her hands. “Oh, God, Becky. I warned you not to go poking around in this mess.”

  “I know you did,” I told her. “I wish I could follow your advice, but I can’t. Melissa told me recently that I’d started thinking like a lawyer. I didn’t understand what that meant initially, but I think I do now. I can make arguments. I can find a reporting position, a way to stay within the law. What I can’t do if I stay in this job is decide who to make the arguments for. And I want to be able to do that.”

  She sighed. “Well, at least you know what you want.”

  I nodded. “I want some joy in what I do. I hope that’s not too much to ask.”

  She smiled. “The best of luck to you. I’ll watch my back. There is one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Before you go, you have to get Bobbie’s affairs in some kind of order, even if you think Taylor is handling her now. You have to square things with her. It’s your obligation. Not only that, it protects you for the future.”

  “She’s in Sedona conducting a workshop, as far as I know.”

  “As soon as she gets back, then, assuming you’re really planning to leave sometime soon. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Will you need some help finding another job?”

  “Probably,” I said. “I have some ideas, but I’m not so well fixed that I can just leap off the deep end without any definite prospects at all.”

  “I’ll put out some feelers,” she said.

  “That’s really nice of you,” I told her. “You’re the second person who’s offered today.”

  “And?”

  “I turned the other guy down.”

  “Ah. Why?”

  “Well, he’s a friend, but…”

  “You’re hesitant?”

  “This probably sounds silly, but…it’s just that he’s already done so much for me. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to keep on accepting his help.”

  She waited.

  I studied my coffee cup. “I think I might be in love with him,” I said glumly.

  She smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t see the problem.”

  I tried to explain. “Years ago, when I was getting divorced, he was my therapist. He helped me through that. He helped me get my life back on track. Now he’s reappeared and helped me find a place for my mother. He helped me with these issues with Bobbie. How can I let him get involved with my job too?”

  “I’m still not getting it,” she said. “It sounds as if he might be in love with you too. What’s troubling you?”

  “The equation is off,” I said. “I mean, what is there left to do for him? Besides, if it works out, how will either of us ever know how much of what I feel is love and how much is gratitude?”

  She was silent a moment. “You’ve been tactful enough not to ask me how I got in this chair,” she said. “When I was twenty-one years old and Tom and I had been married six months, we were taking a walk around our neighborhood. It was a very nice neighborhood—quiet, full of trees, lots of children. One of our neighbors set up a target in his garage and decided to try out his new rifle, just at the very instant we were walking by.” She gestured at the lower half of her body. “That’s how I ended up this way,” she said, as dispassionately as if it were a story about someone else. “He missed the target. The bullet went through the garage door and lodged in my spine. Part of it is still there.”

  She looked out the window. “I had three operations that summer. Between them, I lay in our bed listening to this neighbor—the one who’d shot me—batting tennis balls against his fence, riding a bicycle, doing all the things I’d never do again. He got probation and community service, and he got to go on with his life.” She took a breath. “I got…a life sentence. I don’t think I could have made it through any of it, except for Tom. He stayed with me, he told me that I was beautiful and he would never leave me, he bathed and changed me before I learned to do it for myself. He wouldn’t let me despair.” She turned to me. “So how about that for an unequal equation?”

  “Christ,” I said.

  “You can’t repay people for loving you, Becky,” she said. “It’s not as simple as two plus two equals four. The only way to balance the inequity is by loving the person back.”

  “What did you do then?” I asked her. “How did you get over it?”

  She smiled. “Well, I didn’t exactly get over it, did I? I just went on with my life. With the settlement money from the insurance company, I went to law school. Not because I had visions of avenging myself by prosecuting criminals or anything like that, but because a life of the mind seemed like the best way out of my…dilemma. Tom supported me in that too.” She looked at me. “As it happened, I loved l
aw school. I love being a lawyer. I love what I do now. So we’ve just made the best of everything else. My point is, I don’t think there’s any love that isn’t at bottom a grateful one. And besides…”

  “Besides?”

  She looked at me. “If you want to sleep with him, there’s probably something more than gratitude involved, isn’t there?”

  Isabel called me before I had even brushed my teeth the next morning. “I left three messages,” she said indignantly. “Allie told me your mother was in the hospital again.”

  “She’s okay,” I said. I told her the circumstances. “The operation’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So where were you yesterday morning? I called you again at six and I woke Allie up. I didn’t have the heart to grill her, poor child.”

  “Ballooning,” I said.

  “Ballooning? I thought you were afraid of heights.”

  “It was special,” I told her. “And anyway, why were you calling at six A.M.?”

  She said something I couldn’t hear to someone else in the room. She sounded distracted. “I forgot,” she told me. “It was eight A.M. here.”

  “Are you okay? Where are you calling from?”

  There was a pause. “San Antonio.”

  “San Antonio? As in Texas?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Gathering quotes?”

  “Very funny. This was your idea, remember?”

  “So how is it?” I asked her.

  “It’s awesome,” she said, sounding almost giddy. “Oh, Becky, I’ve been such an idiot.”

  “Are you alone?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Good,” I said. “Say hi to Daniel, have fun, and call me when you get back.”

  “Give your mother my best wishes,” she said.

  “I will,” I told her.

  On Sunday night I wrote my letter of application to the Medallion Foundation and dropped it into the box. First thing Monday morning I went to see the attorney Melissa’s father had referred me to.

  “Thank you for seeing me so early,” I told him. “My mother is having hip replacement surgery this afternoon, and I have to get to the hospital as soon as possible. But I don’t want to delay getting started with this.”

  He looked at the trust documents in his hands. “I can understand that,” he said. “Eric has briefed me on the circumstances.” He folded his hands on the desk. “If you’re prepared, I’ll file the motion for accounting as soon as possible.”

  “I’m prepared,” I said.

  “The retainer will be five thousand dollars, payable today,” he said.

  In appearance and style he was in every way the opposite of Melissa’s father. He was thin and pale, and he sucked in his cheeks while he looked over the documents, making him look even more cadaverous. As far as I could see, he was totally without humor, although perhaps it was too early to tell. In a way his desiccation was almost reassuring. I wanted someone as far from flamboyant as possible, someone who regarded the Rule Against Perpetuities as appropriate nightstand reading material.

  I wrote out the check and handed it to him. I tried not to wince.

  Unsuccessfully, apparently. He managed a dry little smile. “From what I’ve heard, I believe it will be worth it to you,” he said.

  “I hope so,” I told him. “And after you’ve filed the motion, what happens then?”

  He looked at me solemnly. “We wait for events to unfold.”

  “And will they…um…unfold, do you think?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, showing a glint of zealotry for the first time in the conversation. “I can practically guarantee that the court will review this case. They take a very dim view of this sort of thing.”

  “And if there is anything untoward about the offshore investments, will that come out too?”

  “I believe so. And if not…” He put a finger up and touched his bow tie. “Well, let me put it this way. The IRS can always audit someone for whatever reason they want. In this case they would probably get a very reliable tip, one I have every reason to believe would be acted upon quite promptly.” He looked at me. “Will that be satisfactory?”

  “Perfectly,” I told him.

  “Ahem, Miss Weston,” he said as I was leaving.

  “Yes?”

  “I have quite a bit of work now, really far more than I can handle myself.” He tidied the papers on his desk, squaring the corners of the pile. I bet he ironed his underwear.

  “That’s wonderful,” I told him.

  “Yes, yes, but what I meant to say was, I might be interested in taking on a senior associate. Eric Peters speaks very highly of you, and while Eric is admittedly a bit…unconventional…I’ve always found him an excellent judge of ability. What do you say?”

  “What do I say?” I asked, temporizing.

  He nodded. “Do you think you’d be interested in the job?”

  What I thought was that Melissa’s father had just thrown me a safety net. I hoped I didn’t have to fall into it, but I was still grateful.

  “Thank you,” I told him. “Could I think about it?”

  “Of course,” he said, fussing with the papers again. “You’ll want to see how your case progresses. Most understandable. We can discuss it further when you’re ready.”

  “We have to talk,” I said to Bobbie in dangerously untoadying tones when I reached her by phone in her new office. It took some doing; the more money you have, the more people you can employ to shield you from unpleasantness. “Tell her it’s her attorney,” I’d insisted as I was passed up the line. “Tell her I need an appointment right away.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked coldly when she came on the phone. “What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait? Taylor didn’t say anything.”

  “This isn’t about Taylor,” I told her. “At least not directly.”

  “Then forgive me, but I may not need to hear it,” she said.

  “You need to hear it,” I told her.

  I could hear an exhalation of breath, as though she were smoking. “What is it you’re trying to say, Becky? Just because we’re old friends—”

  “Cut the crap, Bobbie,” I told her. “We’re not old friends.”

  She laughed suddenly. “Well, well. I wondered how long it would take you to get around to this.” Another puff.

  She was smoking. “Are you smoking?” I asked her.

  “I do now and then, under stress.” She sounded amused at my reaction. “Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”

  “No,” I said. “But I can’t talk now. I wanted to schedule an appointment. I’m at the hospital. My mother’s having surgery this afternoon. Are you free later this week?”

  “I suppose I could be. How about Friday at ten?” She paused. “Do you want me to come visit your mother in the hospital?”

  I was speechless.

  She laughed again. “I’m well aware of what you think of me, Becky. But you can credit me with a decent impulse. I promise you it’s genuine.”

  “Well, thank you,” I mumbled. “But she’s already sedated.”

  Puff puff. “Until Friday, then,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  My mother’s hip replacement operation was a success, if that’s the right word for it. She emerged groggy but unbowed, dissatisfied with the nursing care and the food but inordinately pleased at once more being the center of so much attention. The orthopedic surgeons had made her a video of the entire operation, which she played more than once on the VCR in her hospital room. It rivaled the gore content of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but as far as she was concerned, it might have been The Sound of Music.

  “And right there is where they ream out the socket,” she said with relish, like someone pointing out the good parts in a summer rerun. “And then they put in the cement.”

  Allie and I had brought Allie’s just-purchased prom dress to show to my mother, since she was going to have to miss the event itself. We hadn’t taken it o
ut of the box.

  “That’s great, Grandma,” Allie said gamely.

  I went over to the window and opened it a crack.

  “Look at all the cards I’ve gotten,” my mother said when the tape was over. “And I’ve had lots of visitors.” She looked at me with a hint of accusation. “Except for that psychiatrist you introduced me to.”

  “He sent flowers, Mother.” He had. The biggest, gaudiest bouquet in the room, just what he knew she would love. “But I told you, remember? He left a message for me saying he had to go out of town. Some family emergency. He’ll be back in a few days.” I tried not to let on that I was as disappointed at not seeing him as she was. After our balloon ride, I’d only seen him briefly for a few minutes at the hospital.

  “Does she know about him?” Allie whispered.

  “I told her,” I whispered back, “but she’s probably forgotten.”

  “There’s no need to whisper about me,” said my mother. “It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs. Where’s David?” she demanded.

  “He had to go back to school,” I said. I’d already told her that too. “He was here on the day of your operation. He stayed as long as he could.”

  “Look at my dress, Grandma,” Allie said, coming to the rescue. She took it out of the box and shook it out. The blue satin spilled to the ground like a waterfall. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.

  It was, and so was my daughter’s face as she held it. “Yes, it is,” said my mother, her eyes misting. “I’m so sorry to miss your dance, Alicia. By then I’ll be in rehab.” She sighed. “It sounds like someplace you go when you have a drinking problem or take pills. But after that the doctor says I can go home.”

  I reached for my mother’s hand. “I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure you’re with us, Mother. There’s a chance we’ll be selling the house, but it won’t be till the school year is over and you’ve recuperated enough to be comfortable with the move.”