by Jo Leigh
Max looked pleased, and as he told the story, she understood why. The FDA advisory wasn’t, in fact, law. But Max’s argument read that if a product was regulated by the federal government, consumers shouldn’t be allowed to sue—and states had no right to pass regulations or issue health warnings more stringent than those given by the federal government.
Mr. Daniels approved. At least, that was her interpretation of the noise he made when the right side of his thin-lipped mouth twitched.
But the second Max broke eye contact with Daniels to look at her, she realized she needed to make herself scarce. The court had agreed with Max, but the outcome still bothered her, and she was there to support him. The last thing she needed was for someone to see her discomfort.
She slipped away, thinking she’d find out what food was being served. The hors d’oeuvres were bound to be exotic and fabulous and she wanted to try them all.
The first one she tried was a mini beef Wellington to die for and the second, an eggplant tartine. Then she heard a woman mention Max, and the hors d’oeuvres lost all their appeal. The way she said his name, first and last, was filthy. The woman was beautiful and her voice was positively salacious and a little drunk as she went on about how happy she’d be to show him the ins and outs of the office.
Natalie walked away, wishing she could do or say something terrifically witty that would shut the woman up, but she’d only embarrass herself, and worse, Max. Just knowing the kind of hours these people kept, she felt certain that it wasn’t all business all the time at the office.
Max was still with the senior partner. Max’s body language looked relaxed even though a few other people had joined them. She couldn’t help hoping he wouldn’t accept whatever deal they offered. Which was ridiculous. No matter where he worked, there would be gorgeous, powerful women who were far more like Max than she was.
She stepped aside for a couple to pass, and they looked so polished and aloof, she felt as if she’d sneaked onto the main deck from steerage.
It was as if she’d taken off blurred lenses. The glamour she’d been wowed by did a very good job of hiding the people underneath the facade. There was a similarity of style among the crowd. Chanel. Prada. D&G. Almost every heel she saw was five inches high, and she didn’t see a single off-the-rack suit. The women were all lean, and while there appeared to be a little more leeway with the men, most were in good shape.
She had never felt so invisible.
Finally, she saw an older gentleman standing alone. His suit wasn’t immaculately tailored and he looked as if he was guarding his full plate of hot appetizers. She approached him carefully, looking for signs she wasn’t welcome, but when he caught sight of her, he smiled.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Natalie. I’m a guest of a guest, and he’s busy talking shop. I hope I’m not intruding.”
“No, welcome. I didn’t expect to be talking to anyone during this party so, nice to meet you, Natalie. I’m Harry. Harry Ellerbach.”
“Hi, Harry. What brings you here tonight?”
“I was invited. I’m the CFO of the firm. They always invite me, and these days I tend to show up.”
“Why’s that?”
“I lost my wife four years ago. We never liked parties much, so we used to stay home. But now? It’s a big house, and I get bored of my own cooking. Whatever else you want to say about Daniels, he doesn’t skimp on the food.”
“What I tasted was delicious. How long have you been with D & P?”
“Thirty-two years.”
“Wow. That’s quite a long run.”
He had a nice smile. Not the perfect white Chiclet teeth of almost every guest there, but an honest one. “It is. I keep things legal financially, and they put my kids and my grandkids through the best universities in the country. It’s a good trade-off.”
“So you like working there?”
“I wouldn’t say I like it so much as I’m used to it.” He held out his plate, but she shook her head at the offer. “I know where all the bodies are buried. Metaphorically, of course. They’re like most big law firms nowadays. Billable hours are king, and people who aren’t useful aren’t kept. But that’s the world, eh?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“You’re not a lawyer.”
“How did you know?”
“Thirty-two years.”
“Ah. No, I’m a film archivist at Omnibus. It’s a—”
“I used to go there. With Annie. We saw a lot of great films there. We even took classes. I remember one was the Middle Ages in Film. That was excellent. Better than PBS.”
“Thank you. That was due to our relationship with the film school at NYU. Have you thought about coming lately?”
He sighed. “No. But now that you mention it, that’s not a bad idea. I think I’ll get the schedule. I like those question-and-answer programs. The ones that make me feel as if my brain isn’t turning to mush. There are only so many tax regulations a man can read.”
She opened her clutch and took out one of her business cards. He didn’t have a hand free, so she slipped it into his breast pocket. “Call me. Maybe I can give you a private tour before a screening.”
He smiled, and then his face grew serious. “Who did you say you were here with?”
She looked behind her. Max wasn’t with Daniels any longer. He was fully engaged with a half dozen younger people, one of whom was the horrible woman. Every eye was on him, and they all looked as if they were utterly captivated by whatever he was saying. “Max Dorset.”
“Is that him? The good-looking one?”
She followed Harry’s line of sight. “Yes.”
“I assume he’s considering joining the firm,” he said, and she just smiled. “He could do worse. He certainly looks like he’d fit in well.”
“He had a big triumph recently.”
“Ah, yes. As I said. He could do worse. Or better. It depends on how much of a scrapper he is. I don’t know about you, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, believe me, this is certainly no criticism, but you seem very nice.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “And?”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Very nice isn’t seen as much of an advantage at D & P.”
“Max and I are just friends, so I don’t think I can hurt his chances.”
“Oh, no, that isn’t what I was implying.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. That’s why I should stick to eating instead of talking.”
“I would have been very sorry if you had.”
“And the defense rests, Your Honor.”
She laughed. “What?”
“You made my point.” His smile was kind, yet sad somehow. He just looked at her, his expression torn, and she had a feeling he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear. “Most of the people who make it at Daniels and Porter are constantly looking to accrue points. It’s not enough for them to win. Someone else has to lose. You know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, trying not to let on that he was getting to her. “I do.”
“That attitude is encouraged. Nurtured. He’ll do fine if that’s where he gets his energy. A lot of people do.”
They watched the crowd around Max. Some of the outliers left, only to be immediately replaced. But the attention was centered on him, and he was glowing. Obviously in his element.
He’d told her that he was just window-shopping, seeing w
hat was out there. He’d also said he wanted to secure his future, which meant a big salary. But she’d never seen it all laid out like this. The way everyone was sizing him up. It wouldn’t matter that his motivation was a solid career and financial security; there was no way any firm wouldn’t want to exploit every facet of his abilities. And yes, he wanted the most challenging cases, but she doubted they’d let him stay in the background. Any firm would be crazy not to exploit his charisma.
The fight melted out of her. All the secret hopes that he would suddenly come to realize that he wanted a home life, that he wanted her more than another stunning win, were carried off on the wind of fabulous excess. She just wished she could see it as an opportunity for him instead of a dangerous web.
Either way, it wasn’t her business. Except that she needed to give up any last romanticized thoughts she’d entertained about a friendship between them. He’d try, she had no doubt, but soon enough he’d have to cancel lunch plans. Nights together. Then the day would come when he’d stop calling altogether, firmly in his own orbit, in his own tribal world, with its in-jokes and status markers.
This party was a preview of things to come. She most definitely didn’t belong on this boat. He’d barely looked at her since they’d come on deck. Turning back to Harry, she found he had cornered a waiter, one carrying absolutely beautiful cocktails.
“And what are those?” Harry asked.
The waiter smiled. “It’s an exclusive cocktail called the Daniels Porter. Made with St-Germain, rum, lemon juice, local honey, absinthe and house-made blueberry jam.”
Natalie laughed. “Jam?”
“It’s very, very good, ma’am.”
“How much of that is alcohol?”
“It’s best if you’re not driving tonight.”
She lifted one off the silver platter. “Thank you.”
The waiter bowed his head as if he’d been trained at Downton Abbey, and she sipped her drink.
“What do you think?” Harry asked.
“It’s sinfully good.”
“Of course it is. You should eat.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to take a walk around the deck. I’ve never been on a yacht before and I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Would you like company, or is this a solo voyage?”
“Oh, yes. Please come. I’m sure you know more about boats than I do.”
Harry put his almost empty plate on a nearby tray and together they set off to explore. “First thing you should know,” he said, “is this isn’t a boat. It’s a megayacht. That’s a whole new class. Basically, you could house an army here and keep them fed long enough to invade a small country.”
“A megayacht. I’ll remember that.”
Harry walked slowly, which was fine. He led her toward the edge of the deck, naming things as he went. She knew exactly where Max was every step of the way. She watched the tide of guests wash in and out, while he was as steady as the shore. It was difficult, sharing him. It was hard not to think of their time together and how soon it would be over. She’d miss him. It. Them. He’d been smooth and interesting, and she’d never been as quick or as daring in her life.
She knew, absolutely, that he liked her. Without a doubt in her mind. They sparked, truly, but now she could see it was because they were flying above the real world.
This was where he belonged. He might like to see an old film now and then, but he’d found his métier in this old profession.
“You ready for another drink, Natalie?”
They’d reached the edge of the party area, where the white-as-froth decking met some kind of magical carpet that didn’t seem to give a damn about salt water. The waiter with the Daniels Porter cocktails was waiting on her decision.
“You know, I think I do. One for the road.”
“Already? You don’t want to see any of the berths below?”
She looked unerringly at Max, who was laughing at something, looking like a prince surrounded by his people. “No, thank you,” she said, her attention once again on Harry, who didn’t seem to fit in at all, but obviously didn’t give rat’s ass. “I’ll just make my way home. You, Harry, have been the highlight of my evening, and I hope very much to see you at Omnibus. We’ll have a great time, I know it.”
“Take care of yourself, Natalie,” he said, the quiet compassion in his eyes nearly her undoing. “And take care of your friend. Make sure he doesn’t get lost on his climb up the ladder.”
16
DEEP IN A conversation about some of D & P’s most unusual cases, Max was tapped on the shoulder. Even though the associates in his immediate circle had been far too nice to be sincere, he wasn’t pleased at the interruption, especially when he saw it was a waiter delivering a note. Max didn’t recognize the writing, but the message needed no signature.
Max, I wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation. I’ll be fine. No worries and good luck! TTYS, N.
“When did she—?”
“She asked that I wait ten minutes.”
He reached for his wallet as he scanned the crowd around him. “Thanks,” he said, turning toward the prow. He knew she wasn’t there, that there’d be no point, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like her to slip away.
By the time Max had the twenty-dollar tip in his hand, the waiter had gone. Of course. Private party. No tip was expected. But he caught a glimpse of his watch and his heart flatlined for a second. How had time gone by that quickly? He’d left her alone for well over an hour. At one point he’d seen her speaking to an older man, but that had been awhile ago.
The man hadn’t fit in with the extremely well-dressed crowd around him, and it was no surprise that Natalie had found someone who seemed out of place. Because she felt out of place. Jesus.
He looked again at his watch. He really had abandoned her. Left her to her own devices on a yacht where she knew exactly one person. Him. The schmuck who’d practically begged her to be his date.
There was a case to be made that she really wasn’t feeling well. Even though the yacht was fairly stable, there was definite motion going on. She could have eaten something that disagreed with her, had one too many glasses of Champagne. But he wasn’t buying it.
As nice as her note was, he could easily see her leaving because, frankly, he would have if he’d been in her shoes. However inadvertently, Max had basically tossed her aside. He tugged at the tie that felt more like a noose than was comfortable.
Dammit, she’d probably wanted to tell him to go jump in the Hudson, but she was far too nice to be so blatant when she knew this party was important to him. By now she was probably at home, cursing the day she’d met him and hoping for a freak hurricane.
He needed to talk to her. Apologize. Figure out if there was some way to make up for his appalling behavior. And, yes, find out if she was ill. Or just disappointed in him.
He glanced around. There had to be someplace private where he could make the call.
“Max?”
Turning toward the voice, he saw a guy he’d met earlier, a real Ivy League type. His name was Hamilton—whether it was the first or last, Max couldn’t remember. He motioned for Max to join the small group near the prow sipping cocktails. Max nodded, and gestured that he’d be along in a minute.
Before he could find a quiet corner, he was stopped by two equity partners who were having a friendly argument over how the FDA had responded to the tort case and wanted Max’s thoughts. As urgent as it was to get in touch with Natalie, this was still part of his interview, and he didn’t dare blow it off. He tried to be polite and not check his watch. When he fi
nally did, he was stunned that another twenty minutes had lapsed. He should’ve just excused himself right off the bat.
A minute later he made the call, which went directly to voice mail. Natalie could still be in a cab, but he didn’t think so. Or maybe she was talking to Fred. Complaining, no doubt.
He disconnected without leaving a message, waited thirty seconds while he cleared his head, and tried again.
She still didn’t pick up.
He cleared his throat while waiting for the beep. “Hey, Natalie, I got your note.” His mind went blank for a moment. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” He paused again. “Look, I was a jerk. Time got away from me.” He lowered his voice. “I was inexcusably rude. If you felt sick, I should have been there to help. I’m sorry. I need to talk to you. Call me. Please.”
Of course, he had no idea what he was going to say to her if she did call. What he’d done was plain rude. God, she probably wasn’t even going to call him back. But he double-checked that his phone was on vibrate before he shoved it in his pocket, One thing he did know, there was no point in sticking around. In fact, he’d be doing himself a favor by leaving. If he stayed, he’d undoubtedly put his foot somewhere it didn’t belong.
So. Leaving. He had to handle himself well. No promises had been made, of course, but his conversation with William Daniels had gotten so personal, Max knew he would be getting an offer, and probably a damn good one.
He’d laid out the entire trail of his research on the seafood case. How he’d proceeded after his discovery. What his goals were both for the immediate future and beyond. This time, he didn’t emphasize the business about wanting to be a researcher. If this experience had taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t afford to be picky. Daniels hadn’t sugarcoated the time commitment or the necessity of accruing lots of billable hours, and Max had kept his mouth shut about his pie-in-the-sky wish list.
