“They prefer Anne anyway. They won’t mind.” John took a step toward Bennie, extending a hand, then stopped, seeming to catch himself. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, all of you. I wish you the best. I’ll clean out my desk another time. I should go now.”
Judy stood up, upset. “John, really? You’re going to go, just like that?”
“Now?” Mary half-rose, not sure whether to hug him or let him go.
“Mary, don’t get up,” John said, waving her into her seat and flashing a sad smile at Judy as he headed toward the door. “Judy, sorry. I think I should just go now.”
“Good-bye, John,” Bennie called after him.
Roger broke the silence, clearing his throat primly. “Remain calm.”
“Oh shut up!” Bennie’s head snapped around, her face mottled with anger. “That he made the statement is bad enough. That he was interviewing with other firms is worse. That he’s leaving now is a death blow. And we’ll have to scramble to cover him on London Technologies. I have no idea how we’ll staff that case.”
Roger merely blinked. “I renew my recommendation that we initiate settlement negotiations.”
“I told you no.”
“I have your vote, but what about Mary and Judy? There are three partners here, not just one.”
Bennie turned to Mary and Judy, momentarily chastened. “He’s right. You guys get to say what you think. You have an equal vote. Do you want to settle with that jerk?”
“No settlement,” Mary heard herself answering, her heart speaking for her. She knew how she felt, despite the personal risk. Anthony might not agree, but luckily, he wasn’t here. “I love John, but he’s wrong. He didn’t deserve to be made partner yet, it was too soon. We don’t discriminate against men here. We’re in the right and we should fight.”
Judy nodded gravely. “Roger, I understand your recommendation, and in other circumstances, I would agree. But we can’t settle this. If you don’t fight when you’re right, when do you fight?”
Roger remained characteristically impassive. “I hear you three, for now. We can revisit the settlement question at any point. I am asking you to keep an open mind. We’ve been lawyers long enough to know that being ‘in the right’”—he made air quotes with his nimble fingers—“doesn’t guarantee a successful result, nor is it a very good reason to go forward in litigation. But for now, I’ll accept your judgment, as I must.”
“Good.” Bennie rubbed her hands together, taking her seat. “Now, what we need to do is finalize the Answer—”
“—I was going to say that,” Roger interrupted.
“—and go full steam ahead on the legal research we started—”
“—I was going to say that, too.” Roger shot Bennie a look. “Who’s running this case?”
“Who do you think?” Bennie shot back, with a cocky smile.
“Ha!” Roger laughed. “And I take it we agree on the need to utilize Isaac’s services. We need him, now more than ever. John’s departure raises questions we need to address in the media.”
“Fine,” Bennie said, reluctantly.
“Okay.” Judy nodded.
“Uh, sure,” Mary answered, but she was suddenly distracted. She didn’t want to say so out loud, but she felt a warm dampness in her underwear, which, during a pregnancy, could mean trouble.
Roger smiled. “Excellent.”
Isaac nodded. “Thank you for your confidence in me, ladies.”
Mary rose, nervously. “Excuse me a minute. Bathroom run.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mary tried not to be nervous while her OB/GYN, Dr. Melissa Foster, examined her from somewhere behind the white tent covering her knees. Mary had texted Anthony, and he was on the way to the doctor’s office, but Judy was with Mary now, holding her hand. Mary realized that a best friend was somebody who would hold your hand when you’re in stirrups.
Mary glanced at Judy, who looked down at her with a reassuring smile, standing next to the examining table. She’d managed to exit the meeting gracefully, leaving behind a concerned Bennie, and Judy had hailed them both a cab and gotten them here in no time. Mary had gone to the bathroom and discovered that she was spotting, so she’d called the doctor and had been told to come right in.
Dr. Foster wasn’t saying anything, and Mary fought the impulse to start chatting away, the way she always did. She abhorred silence the way Nature abhorred a vacuum and always found herself yapping at times that normal people stayed quiet, like when she was getting her hair cut, her nails done, or even during a massage. She had a pedicure once and talked nonstop at the pedicurist, who spoke only Korean, as it turned out. Mary was no different at the OB/GYN’s office and she delivered some of her best lines when there was a speculum inside her. But not this time.
“Dr. Foster, is everything okay?” Mary asked, unable to stay quiet another minute.
“Give me another minute or two,” Dr. Foster answered, which Mary knew was code for please stop asking questions.
Mary’s gaze fell on Dr. Foster’s framed diplomas, with their fancy gold seals, and that gave her some reassurance. Dr. Foster was one of the best OB/GYNs in the city, and Mary had been lucky to get into her practice. The doctor was in her early fifties, with an academic bent, since she taught at medical school. She was African-American and wore her hair short, and her features were fine-boned behind her glasses, with their heavy black frames. Little diamonds twinkled from her earlobes, and her frame was petite but superfit since she was a runner. Mary loved her kind but no-nonsense bedside manner. Dr. Foster was who you wanted if your pregnancy was in trouble, which Mary prayed wasn’t the case.
She glanced around the room, trying to draw reassurance from the soft mint green of the walls, the colorful watercolor bouquet in a pale blue frame, and the flowery pink letters of the requisite inspirational sayings sign: I SET MY WORRIES ASIDE AND LET MY BODY DO ITS JOB. Mary looked away, because the sign wasn’t helping. It only reminded her of her job, which was to be back at work, trying not to lose everything she and Anthony owned. She was still reeling from John’s quitting and terrified that it would put a nail in the coffin of the lawsuit. Bennie had even called it a death blow, which wasn’t the kind of panicky language she used. Mary had known that being sued was stressful, but she had never realized how completely stressful it could be, until it happened to her.
Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door, and Mary looked to the left to see Anthony enter the room, worriedly. “Hey, hubby, how are you?”
“The question is, how are you.” Anthony came over, kissed Mary on the forehead, and took her other hand, glancing at Judy and Dr. Foster. “Judy, thanks for bringing her. Hi, Dr. Foster.”
“No worries,” Judy answered.
“Anthony, hi,” Dr. Foster said from behind the tent, which was at the opposite side of the room from the door. Mary realized the setup of the room was intentional, because nobody wanted to open a door onto whatever was on the other side of the white tent. The thought made her smile, but it went away.
“Okay.” Dr. Foster got up from her rolling stool and smiled in a professional way, taking off her purple-plastic gloves. “I think everything’s fine.”
“Thank God!” Judy blurted out, even before Mary and Anthony, then realized she had talked out of turn. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Mary said, touched. “It’s a relief, God knows.”
Anthony looked at Dr. Foster, his dark eyes wet with the emotion he was trying to hold back. “But what was it then? Mary said she was ‘spotting,’ and I don’t know, what exactly does that mean?”
“Spotting means there was some bleeding, and that’s perfectly normal from time to time, especially in the first trimester—”
Mary interrupted, “But I’m in my third trimester.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Foster answered, patiently. “But I’ve examined you, and I’m not overly concerned. It does happen, and you need to come in and have me check it out when it does.”
&n
bsp; “But what causes it?”
“It’s symptomatic of some conditions that luckily, you don’t have.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like placental abruption, which is caused when the placenta is detaching from the uterine wall. Or even preterm labor, but you are not in labor. You said you weren’t feeling any contractions and you had no more nausea than usual.”
“Right, and I haven’t had any dizziness or anything like that.”
“Got it.” Dr. Foster cocked her head. “Are you under stress, Mary?”
Mary blinked, and Judy burst into laughter. Anthony didn’t.
Mary answered, “Let’s just say things are busy at work.”
Dr. Foster smiled, more warmly. “I know, I hear you. Doctors always tell you to eliminate stress, and that’s completely impossible in the modern world. You’re a lawyer, and stress is part and parcel of your profession.”
“That’s exactly right,” Mary said, without elaborating. She didn’t want to whine about being sued and she knew that Dr. Foster had a full waiting room, having squeezed her in on an emergency basis. “So what do I do about the spotting?”
“Nothing, just try to take it easier. Here, scoot down for me.” Dr. Foster began closing up the stirrups and placing Mary’s legs down under the sheet.
“Can I go back to work?”
“Yes, but no strenuous activities like racquetball.”
“Good, I don’t play racquetball.”
“I do and it’s going to be the death of me.” Dr. Foster smiled. “Any other questions?”
Anthony looked over, frowning. “Dr. Foster, she was at work today. She should go home, right?”
“Maybe, just to relax, though it’s not medically necessary.”
Anthony shot Mary an I-knew-it. “But Doctor, when you say ‘take it easier,’ what do you mean? Should she cut down on her hours at work? Or work part-time?”
Judy squeezed Mary’s hand. “Mare, if you have to, you could take it easier at work, like, take it down to three days a week. I’ll watch your desk and pick up the slack, or you can work from home.”
Dr. Foster shook her head. “There’s no medical reason for Mary to do that unless she wants to.” The doctor turned to Mary. “Do you want to?”
“No,” Mary answered, avoiding Anthony’s eye. “But on the other hand, I would never do anything that hurts the baby.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t advise you to go back to work if I thought it would compromise the pregnancy or the baby.” Dr. Foster put her hand on the doorknob. “But you’re perfectly healthy, proceeding along right on track. Today was a blip on the screen, but that’s it. Feel free to call if you have any other questions and of course if you have any further spotting. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mary smiled, almost reassured. “Thanks so much.”
“Dr. Foster, thanks,” Anthony said, and Judy waved good-bye.
“Thanks from me, the aunt-to-be!”
Dr. Foster smiled. “See you at your next appointment, Mary. Just put your gown in the basket and leave when you’re ready. Take care.” She left the examining room, closing the door behind her.
“Okay,” Mary said, heaving a heavy sigh, and Anthony bent over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“That was scary.”
“I bet.” Mary felt a wave of love for him, and concern. “I didn’t mean to freak you out when I called.”
“Not at all, I’m glad you told me.”
“You didn’t tell my parents, did you?”
“Are you nuts?” Anthony smiled crookedly.
“Okay, I won’t go back to work, I’ll go home with you.”
“Yes, the car’s in a lot. You check out, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“No, Anthony, I can go with you.”
Judy touched Mary’s arm. “Mare, Anthony’s right. Let him get the car. You get dressed, and we’ll meet him.”
“Thanks for the assist.” Anthony shot Mary a look. “Hear that, honey? Listen to reason.”
“Or failing that, listen to me.” Judy grinned.
“Ha.” Anthony walked around the examining table, giving Judy a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for taking her, Judy. You’re the best aunt-to-be ever.”
“I so am!” Judy grinned, and Anthony left the room, closing the door behind him.
Mary heaved another sigh. “I guess I should go home.”
“You really should.”
“I hate leaving you and Bennie in the lurch.”
“You’re not.” Judy waved her off. “We have more than enough lawyers on the case. If anything, we have too many.”
“But we have work to do on London Technologies, with John gone.”
“We’re not going to get it done today, and I already have a plan. The case is in the discovery phase now, so I’ll team up with Anne, read the file, and review interrogatories and documents. I’ll get up to speed, and she and I will take the depositions.”
“But that’s so much. What do I do? I want to help.”
“You can, by defending the depositions. That will be easier. You don’t even have to know the file.”
“That’s too easy,” Mary said, feeling a wave of guilt. Defending depositions was much easier than taking them, since the objections were the same in every deposition, regardless of the subject matter of the case. The gist was to make sure the client didn’t volunteer information or say something stupid.
“No, it’s fine. Plus if you’re defending the dep, the witness will have to come to us, so you don’t have to travel. All you have to do is sit on your butt in the conference room. It’s the perfect division of labor.”
Mary knew it made sense, even though it was the lighter load. She had a baby and she was thinking for two. “Okay, Anne said there was a dep to defend on Monday. I can do that.”
“It may be too soon for you.”
“No, I’m fine. We’ll meet with Anne and she’ll get us up to speed on the big picture. Meanwhile, I’ll email her and get any passwords to the file, so I can read it at home today. I’m not that busy, I was already cutting back because of the baby.”
“Okay, now, let me help you off the table.” Judy took Mary’s arm, and Mary slid off the white sheet to reveal her hospital gown, which was open in the back.
“Don’t look at my butt.”
“I’ve seen your butt.”
“Not lately. My stretch marks look like a bear attack.”
“Hush. You need help getting dressed?”
“No thanks.” Mary smiled, touched again by her friend’s thoughtfulness. Judy may have looked wacky to the outside world, with her magenta hair and fashion-challenged outfits, but she was one of the most reliable and levelheaded people Mary had ever known.
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the waiting room.” Judy let herself out of the examining room, and Mary padded into the adjacent bathroom, where she dressed avoiding the mirror, her enemy for the past seven months. Whoever said pregnant people glowed needed glasses. Pregnant people sweated. Even in March.
She picked up her purse and left the examining room, trundling down the hallway and taking a left toward the billing and reception area, when she heard a hubbub coming from the reception area. She went through the glass door, only to be greeted by a reception room full of bewildered patients, a nervous Judy, and most of South Philly, in the form of Mary’s mother, father, El Virus, and The Tonys, who surged forward as a vaguely hysterical group when they spotted Mary.
“Pop? Mom?” Mary recoiled, horrified. “How did you know I was here?”
“HONEY, YOU AWRIGHT? ANT’N’Y TOLD HIS NEIGHBOR HE WAS GONNA MEET YOU AT THE DOCTOR AND SHE CALLED CAMARR MILLIE WHO KNOWS COUSIN TOOTIE WITH THE EYE SO HE…”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Day turned to night at home, and Mary sat in her favorite chair by the window, which was called a chair-and-a-half since it was wider than normal. She and Anthony used to cuddle in it on Saturday nights and watch Netflix together, but now that she was pregnant,
she needed the entire chair to herself. On her left was a box of saltines and on her right was a bag of popcorn, as if she had traded in her husband for carbohydrates. She had her feet up on the ottoman and her laptop open on her lap, though she had to type around her belly and her navel kept hitting the space bar.
She found her gaze wandering outside the window, watching her neighbors giving their dogs a last walk or coming home from restaurants or the movies. Her and Anthony’s townhouse was in the Rittenhouse section of the city, a three-story brick colonial that was nevertheless a rowhome, although in a higher-rent district than South Philly. It had been their neighbors two doors down, the McIllhenys, who had spilled the beans about Mary’s emergency visit to Dr. Foster, and it had taken Mary hours to persuade her parents that she and the baby were fine, so that they’d finally gone home.
She glanced at her laptop, trying to focus. She was supposed to be reading the London Technologies pleadings, but antitrust was one of the most technical, business-oriented areas of the law. She felt distracted by her worries about the baby, the lawsuit against her and the others, and John’s departure. She hated that everything was exploding right now, when she should have been easing into the baby’s arrival. She’d planned her caseload so carefully, scaling back the active files and not taking any new clients, but that had gone by the wayside. Life wasn’t going well if contractions would be a relief.
Mary kept her eyes on the laptop screen and her worries to herself, especially about the pregnancy, because she didn’t want to get Anthony started all over again. He had lectured her at lunch and again at dinner about trying to take it easy at work. He sat on the couch on his laptop, working on his book and ignoring the television, which was playing the new season of The Crown, their latest binge-watch. She didn’t know when Netflix had become the background music to their marriage, but there were worse things.
Anthony stretched, checking his watch. “It’s getting late, almost eleven. You wanna go up?”
“Sure,” Mary said, though she hadn’t gotten much done.