“Are you sure?” Mary tried to absorb the information. She had hoped for the best and convinced herself it was actually going to happen, because she wanted it to happen, so much.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Is there any chance of settlement down the line?”
“Not in the near future.”
“Oh no.” Mary considered the implications. That must’ve meant Todd Eddington denied making the statements. The case was a credibility contest, and the company was going to stonewall.
“I really did try, Mary,” Bennie said, her tone softening, and the sunlight coming through Mary’s window shone on her face and caught the blue of her eyes, making them look crystal-clear.
“I’m sure you did.” Mary forced a smile, despite her disappointment. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“I was glad to do it. I know how much this case meant to you. It was the right thing to do, to try, but it didn’t work.”
“Was my settlement demand too high?” Mary was kicking herself. “I tried to keep it reasonable but we’d settle this for less. Simon just needs the money for Rachel.”
“It wasn’t the number. More than that I can’t tell you. What I learned today is privileged between OpenSpace and me, and I shouldn’t say any more.”
“They’re going to lose at trial, you know.” Mary felt an ember of anger, hot in her chest. “They’re in the wrong. The notes are such good corroboration, and the case is incredibly sympathetic. Simon has them dead to rights.”
“There are two sides to every story, as they told me this morning, and they’re going to tell theirs. As for you and me, we shouldn’t talk about the merits anymore.”
“But settling it is the right result.”
“Agree, it’s a case that should settle.”
“It makes the most sense for everyone involved.” Mary couldn’t let go of her frustration. Her chest felt squeezed, like she had on the smallest sports bra of all time. “I know there are two sides and they’re not horrible people. I’m sure the boss didn’t know what he did was illegal. Every company tries to cut costs, and he probably felt duty-bound to do it.”
Bennie opened her mouth to say something, then clamped her lips shut. “Understood.”
“Did you pitch settling, can I ask?”
“Of course. I did pitch it, and they declined.”
“Did you show them the complaint?”
“No, I didn’t need to, and I didn’t think it was wise to. I didn’t want to open up a can of worms when they saw my firm name on the last page.”
“I get it. Arg!” Mary groaned. “This is so wrong. This is just the wrong result.”
“Mary, trust me, the thing that should happen doesn’t always happen. Life isn’t fair. Litigation is less so. You should know that by now.” Bennie’s tone turned worldly-wise. “The right result isn’t always the result.”
“I understand.” Mary felt heartsick. Her hand went to the gold locket around her neck, which Simon had given her. It killed her that she wasn’t able to settle this case. It could have eased his mind. It could have helped Rachel.
“I hope that your friend finds himself a great lawyer, and you should feel comfortable helping him do that. I even have some recommendations if you need one. And of course I wish his daughter a speedy recovery.”
Mary didn’t get it. “Thank you, but I’m still going to represent Simon.”
Bennie blinked. “You are?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Mary said, though her mouth went dry. “I thought you understood that.”
“No, I didn’t.” Bennie frowned slightly. “I thought we were tabling the issue of the representation.”
“Well, no.”
“Yes, we are. I thought we were setting aside the issue and trying to see if we could sort it out, extra-legally.”
“True, and we tried and it didn’t work, so that means we go back to square one. I’m not conflicted out and I’m going to represent Simon. I’m still going to sue OpenSpace.”
Bennie’s lips parted. “I think you are conflicted out. I went through the factors—”
“—and it’s a judgment call.” Mary sat up straighter. “My judgment is that I’m not conflicted out under the rules. The circumstances say I’m not.”
“The circumstances say you are, in my judgment.” Bennie waited a beat. “What did Judy say?”
“She thinks I am.”
“Bingo!” Bennie smiled. “There you have it.”
“What did Sam say? I know you must’ve asked him.”
Bennie’s smile evaporated. “He thinks you’re not.”
“Bravo.” Mary felt a surge of hope. “But I don’t want to make it a headcount.”
“Neither do I, but you’re wrong.”
“No, you are.”
Suddenly they both looked over, as Judy popped her head into the doorway, standing next to Bennie. “What’s going on? What am I missing? Don’t taunt me. You know I have major FOMO.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Fear of missing out.”
“OpenSpace isn’t settling,” Bennie answered, turning away. “I’ll let Mary fill you in. I have to get to work.”
“Bennie, hold on!” Marshall called out, coming down the hall. “I have something for you. This just came for you and Mary by hand-delivery.”
“Thanks.” Bennie held out her hand, and Marshall gave her a manila envelope, then gave one to Mary, too.
“Thanks,” Bennie answered firmly, opening the envelope with her thumb. She slid out the piece of paper, which was a single sheet of correspondence on Dumbarton letterhead.
“What’s this?” Mary asked with dismay, opening the envelope and pulling out a copy of the same letter, then reading aloud:
Nathaniel Lence, Esq.
President & CEO
One Dumbarton Drive
Horsham, PA
DUMBARTON ENTERPRISES
Dear Ms. DiNunzio:
It has come to my attention that you, a named partner in the law firm of Rosato & DiNunzio, seek to represent Simon Pensiera in a putative employment discrimination action against his former employer, OpenSpace. OpenSpace is a wholly owned subsidiary of Dumbarton Enterprises, and Dumbarton has been a long-standing client of your firm. Therefore, any such representation by you constitutes a conflict of interest in breach of Rule 1.7 of the Model Rules of Professional Conduct.
Please be advised that if you do not withdraw from the aforementioned representation forthwith, Dumbarton will file the attached Misconduct Complaint against you with the Disciplinary Board of the Bar Association of Pennsylvania and the American Bar Association Committee.
Best,
Nathaniel Lence, Esq.
cc: Bennie Rosato, Esq.
“Oh my God. Can he really do this?” Mary felt stricken. Seeing her name on a disciplinary action shook her to her very foundation. It was embarrassing, even shameful. She had never been before a disciplinary board. She’d been the quintessential Good Girl, until now.
“Yes,” Bennie answered, tense. “It’s hardball, but that’s Nate. He didn’t get to the top by playing nice. He’s an excellent litigator. He attacks on all fronts, evidently even the lawyers.”
Mary shuddered. “But this is out of bounds.”
“To most lawyers, yes. Even I would never do this. But he doesn’t think that way. He doesn’t have bounds. He makes his own rules. He feels personally attacked, so he’ll think this is self-defense. He signed it himself. He’s not even using his in-house guy, Jason.”
Judy practically growled. “I wanna kill him.”
Bennie shot her a look. “And that’s the test. If you consider homicide, he’s an excellent litigator.”
Mary flipped to the complaint, which was a single page long, offering no facts or argument. “Is this enough? It doesn’t even say anything.”
Judy frowned, reading over her shoulder. “Agree. Is this all it takes?”
“For starters.” Bennie put h
er copy back in the envelope. “He’s striking fast and furious. It’s the most he could do in short order. He can amend it later. It commences the proceedings and gets the job done.” Bennie eyed Mary hard. “Nate just upped the ante. Your ethical position is getting you called on the carpet. Granted, your position is a judgment call, but be aware that these bar association committees and disciplinary committees are old-school. If I were you, I would refer this case out.”
“Mare,” Judy said, urgently. “I know how you feel and that you want to help Simon, but I think you should refer it out, too. You’re not the only lawyer in the city. I swear, we can get him somebody terrific.”
“But I still don’t think I’m in breach.” Mary knew she was doing the right thing. The factors were in her favor. She flashed on those faces at the hospital this morning, turning to her. She couldn’t let them all down.
Judy touched Mary’s shoulder. “Think of it this way. It doesn’t help Simon’s case if there’s litigation over you. It might even prejudice the court against him.”
Bennie nodded. “Mary, she’s making a good point. Nate has put your credibility at issue, and this is a case where credibility is critical. You need a judge to credit Simon’s allegations and testimony. Can he do that if he thinks Simon’s lawyer has an ethical issue?”
Mary felt torn, her heart sinking. “But Simon wants me to represent him.”
Judy interjected, “Are you sure, after this? He’d feel terrible if he knew what just happened. You need to ask him.”
Bennie scoffed. “No, you don’t,” she snapped.
Mary looked over, surprised by Bennie’s demeanor. “What do you mean?”
“No client tells us what to do. Neither friend nor foe.” Bennie looked as if she were going to elaborate but stopped abruptly. “You’re the lawyer, Mary. You decide, not your client. Now I have to get to work. Good luck.”
Judy turned to Mary. “Honey, she’s really right. Let the case go. You don’t have any other option.”
“Not necessarily,” Mary blurted out. “There’s one other option we haven’t talked about, Bennie.”
Bennie turned to her in the hallway, expectantly. “What other option?”
Judy cocked her head. “Yes, what?”
“It’s a nuclear option.” Mary swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t said anything, but needing to air it out. It had kept her up all last night. She’d known it was a possibility that Todd Eddington would deny everything, and there was only one way out that she could see, but she hated to pull the trigger.
Bennie fell silent, waiting.
Judy frowned, nervous. “Nuclear option? Mary, that sounds bad. What are you talking about?”
Mary heaved a sigh. “I’ll tell you, just to talk about it, but I don’t want everybody to get upset. I’m not wedded to it. It’s just an idea.”
“Now you’re scaring me.” Judy frowned more deeply. “What?”
“Well, the ethical problem is that the firm has represented Dumbarton.” Mary braced herself. “His complaint is that nobody from this firm can represent OpenSpace against Dumbarton.”
“Okay, yes, go on…” Judy motioned to Mary to keep talking.
“So, uh, we need to think outside of the box. The conflict is that I’m a partner in the firm. One option is to give up the case, and the other is to”—Mary braced herself—“the other is to consider taking some time away from the firm.”
“What?” Judy asked, astonished.
“Listen,” Mary rushed to explain, “if I did, the conflict would go away, since I never represented Dumbarton myself or was privy to any of its confidential information. So I was thinking, maybe I could take some time out to work on this case, like a sabbatical, or I would have to leave the firm.”
“Are you serious?” Judy’s eyes flew open. “Time out from the firm? Leave the firm? How can you say that? Your name is on the sign and letterhead. You just made partner! You can’t go!”
“I don’t want to.” Mary felt guilty seeing Judy so upset and she could barely bring herself to look at Bennie, but now the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, I would never do it otherwise, but it’s an option, a way out—”
“No it isn’t!” Judy wailed. “It’s not an option! You can’t leave me!”
Mary saw Bennie looking aghast, which provoked a profound wave of guilt. She didn’t want to leave the firm but she didn’t see any other way. She had come to love Bennie, even though she was still intimidated by her from time to time. She had worked for her for almost ten years and had been amazed when she’d become Bennie’s partner. They’d grown to be friends even though Bennie was hardly girlfriendy and they’d never socialized outside of work, even eaten out together. But working as partners had brought them closer, without Mary even knowing it. And she owed Bennie so much. Bennie had taught her that she was a better lawyer than she’d ever realized, and ironically, that she was strong enough to make it on her own.
Mary faced Bennie’s pained eyes. “Bennie, I’m sorry. Believe me, I know this is hurtful, but I can’t turn my back on Simon, Rachel, my family, and the whole entire community. If you had seen them at the hospital this morning, you would understand. It’s no-win, either way.”
“Mary.” Bennie regained her composure, her lips forming a grim line. “You and I have a partnership agreement. It can be dissolved by written notice from either one of us, at any time. If you wish to dissolve the partnership agreement, please let me know. It’s your decision.”
“I don’t want to do it, I just think I’m in a position where I have to do it.” Mary felt heartsick. She had to make Bennie understand. There was no good answer. “I go way back with Simon and—”
“You needn’t justify it to me or anybody else. No hard feelings. I understand. Make whatever decision you need to, but do it quickly.”
“But I’m so sorry—”
“No need to apologize. You can’t live your life to please other people, even me. Now I really do have to get to work.” Bennie turned away and resumed walking toward her office. “Let me know your decision.”
Judy grabbed Mary’s arm, her expression agonized. “Mary, you can’t mean this! You can’t leave the firm! We’ve worked together forever! Two peas in a pod, best friends! You can’t do this!”
“Judy, let’s talk about it—”
“No, Mare, I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to even consider it! You’re blowing up our law firm? Our friendship?”
“Nothing blows up our friendship,” Mary said, speaking from the heart. “Let’s go to lunch and talk it over.”
“I can’t, I’m too upset to eat!”
“Let’s go.” Mary took her hand, tugging her away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bennie stood at her office window, trying to collect her thoughts. Her view faced north, an orientation she favored because it was upward, onward, straight ahead. But she didn’t feel that way right now. Things had happened so fast, and she didn’t know how everything had come undone. In a single day, she had lost a partner—and a major client—but that didn’t matter. Which, right there, was a revolution in her own priorities, turning them topsy-turvy.
Bennie’s restless gaze flitted to the skyscrapers, all of them sleek monoliths of mirrors. If she looked hard enough, she wondered if she could see herself, a bewildered woman standing at a window. Her cell phone rang in her purse, but she let it go to voicemail. There were stacks of correspondence on the desk and email filing into her inbox. There were calls to return and briefs to write, but she had come to a total standstill. And suddenly she realized why.
She felt hurt. Loss. Bewilderment. She was having an emotional reaction at the office.
Bennie smiled to herself, since that was practically against federal law, or at the very least, the first time it had ever happened. Not that she was an android, because she had Actual Human Emotions, but she tried to compartmentalize them at work. It was necessary when you were the boss, and she had to separate herself from the associates,
way back when she had hired Mary and Judy. But since then they had worked so many cases together and gone on so many adventures, that she had come to feel closer to them, without realizing it until now.
Bennie swallowed hard. She didn’t understand why Mary felt so strongly about keeping the case, but Mary was tied up with her family, her friends, and her community, connecting so easily to people that she could chat up a parking meter. Bennie was nothing like that, nor did she envy it; she was a loner, an only child raised by a single mother who suffered from depression. She never knew her father, had never even met him until it was far too late. She relied on herself and had made her life into what she wanted it to be, gloriously on her own.
She looked at the mirrored skyscrapers, her thoughts racing. No one but her knew how much hard work it had taken, how often she had acted unafraid when she was in fact afraid, how much fighting, kicking, and clawing the law could be, day after day, year after year. Her law firm had finally reached its pinnacle, and she’d earned her success, then she’d even found Declan, who was a great man even by her incredibly picky standards. But she had just been thrown for a loop.
Bennie wondered if she should have done anything differently with Mary, but she wouldn’t have changed it. She could have told Mary that Dumbarton had fired her, but that would’ve only made Mary feel worse. The last thing Bennie wanted to do was guilt her into staying. Bennie couldn’t control whether Mary stayed or left. If she thought about it—really thought about it hard—the only thing she really wanted was for Mary to do what was right for her.
It struck her as an epiphany, and it lightened Bennie’s heart and gave her a sense of direction, if not northward, then close. Because she could help Mary get what she wanted, and that’s what a friend would do. Evidently she had become Mary’s friend, whether anybody knew it or not. And the only thing that stood in the way of Mary getting what she wanted was Nate.
Bennie turned around, went to her desk, and opened the envelope, sliding out the letter and skimming it again. Her gaze dropped to Nate’s signature, noting that he had signed it as an original, pressing hard on the ballpoint pen, probably angry as hell. It didn’t get more personal than that, and she knew he was trying to get back at her for not wanting to get involved with him again, even if he never acknowledged that to himself. This wasn’t only about sex, this was about power, and even so, she had a job to do. It was overreaching for him to bring Mary before a disciplinary committee, and Bennie didn’t want to take the chance that some crotchety judge would level sanctions against Mary, maybe even suspending her license to practice and leaving a lifetime blemish on her record.