An Accidental Life (5 page)

Rebecca picked up the calendar, still open, and put it on her desk, scanning the schedule. “I could do it Wednesday morning.” If she was to escape to Italy with Peter, she’d need time on Wednesday afternoon to transition the bond deal to Sydney. She smoothed both hands over the pages of the calendar, then looked at Rose. “Is this for real?”

Rose Marie glittered. “Oh yes. They said they also saw the article in
New Woman
a few months ago. They want to send a reporter and a photographer and they’ve asked which hotel to book, one that’s close. I told them the Roosevelt.” Rose Marie spun around. “I’ll go confirm it now.” Looking back over her shoulder just before she disappeared through the door, she laughed and said, “Rebecca, you’re going to be a star.”

Rebecca, smiling, waved her off and pulled a file across her desk. But when Rose Marie was gone, she looked up again, her mind racing. She looked around the office, wondering if it would be possible to get into her new partner’s office before the
Spin-it
people arrived. The managing partner could make it happen, she knew, and he’d be thrilled about the publicity for the firm.

Picking up the phone, she dialed Doug Bastion’s office. Wanda Stanford replied that Mr. Bastion was busy at that moment, but that he would call back.

Rebecca knew better. Hold onto control. She said she’d wait.

Leaning back in the chair, Rebecca envisioned Doug’s face when she told him of the article that would reach every client’s desk. She was certain Doug would find a way to get her moved into the new office before those
Spin-it
people showed up.

For a moment she entertained the thought of inviting Amalise to join the interview. But, quickly she discarded the idea. That could complicate her request for a quick office move. And besides, they had chosen her, not Amalise . . .

Two hours later, carrying an armload of documents, Rebecca strode into the conference room on the eighteenth floor of Mangen & Morris for the meeting on the bond offering. Today, as an antidote to the anxiety that the brief nausea had wrought, she’d worn a gray silk suit that she especially liked, one tailored to fit her curves. The waistband was a bit snug today, but a day or two of eating only salads would take care of that.

And now she was feeling fine, just fine. The tone she’d heard in Doug’s voice when she told him of the
Spin-it
request told her what she needed to know—she was number one in the new partner ranks. Moving her into the new office was not a problem, he’d assured. By Wednesday morning when the reporter arrived, she’d be ensconced in new furnishings. And the promise of the trip to Italy with Peter this weekend had lifted her spirits too. So as she walked into the conference room there was a spring in her step and a smile on her face and she shifted her thoughts to work, resolved to focus on nothing but this transaction for the rest of the day.

The large conference room featured a row of long windows on the outer wall of the room. Sydney and the other Mangen & Morris lawyers on the transaction team had arranged themselves along that far side of the table, with the sun at their backs. They’d saved the middle seat for her. In a large meeting this was generally the power seat. From Doug, Rebecca had absorbed the workings of power in this man’s world; how to win it, hold it, and use it.

Four lawyers from the Dallas office of Johnson, Morris & Field sat facing the Mangen & Morris group. When she entered the room, she greeted Wilson Hanover, a partner in Johnson, Morris, and then she stopped and shook hands as he introduced her to the other lawyers from his firm. As she rounded the end of the long table and took her seat, Wilson congratulated her on the recent partnership announcement.

The Johnson, Morris team had arrived late yesterday afternoon they said, in time for dinner at Mr. B’s on Chartres Street. They were staying at the Monteleone Hotel just across the way. Listening and smiling, Rebecca rose and walked to the credenza along the wall to her right, where coffee and ice and cold drinks were. Sydney volunteered that Mr. B’s was one of her favorite restaurants, and then Wilson added they’d spent some time investigating the history of the Napoleon House, too. In 1821 the café, a local landmark, was the focus of a failed attempt to rescue Napoleon from exile on the island of Elba.

Oh well, someone said—not everything goes according to plan.

Rebecca filled a glass with ice, picked up a Tab and a napkin, and returned to her place at the table. She watched the drink foam as she poured it into the glass. “I think we’re close,” she said to Wilson, across the table. Her voice was casual, but she knew that if he agreed, the trip to Italy on the weekend would become a distinct possibility. “How do the changes we made last night look to you?”

“We’ve got a few points to discuss, but they’re minor. Basically, I think we’re on the same page.”

Nodding, Rebecca slowly exhaled.

Sydney said that she’d ordered lunch to be brought in around noon. “Let’s get started,” Wilson said. Then, heads bent over the agreements, and pages turned.

Rebecca remained quiet as Sydney took over. That’s how she’d learned when she was a young associate, too. “We’ll start with the Offering Memorandum,” Sydney said. Papers shuffled around the table. “Page by page. Does everyone have copies?”

As Sydney took the lead, working her way with the group through the pages of the first document for review, Positano rose before Rebecca—the sunshine, the sparkling water, languid days. The romantic nights.

Then, forcing herself to follow the discussion, Rebecca followed along as Sydney noted each Mangen & Morris change on each page, explaining the reasons and answering questions. Once in a while she made a comment or two, but Sydney was doing fine. She couldn’t wait to talk to Peter, to assure him that she could go.

When lunch arrived at twelve thirty, they took a break. Rebecca left as the lunch cart rolled into the room. She took the elevator down to sixteen, and alerted Rose Marie that the move to her new office would take place that evening after everyone went home.

“Everything will be exactly the same when we arrive?”

“Yep.” Rebecca snapped her finger. “Except the furniture will be new, and my office will be twice as big.”

“How do they do it?”

“They take pictures.”

Rebecca went into her office. Glancing down at the open calendar, she shivered as she saw the appointment with Dr. Roger Matlock jotted on the page for Tuesday afternoon. That worry wound through her again, like a thread, pulling tight.

It crossed her mind again that perhaps the appointment with Dr. Matlock was unnecessary. But she might as well see the doctor and rid herself of this fear once and for all, so that she could enjoy her weekend in Italy with Peter.

At three thirty that afternoon, the lawyers completed the review of the bond offering memorandum. The company’s chief financial officer announced that he needed a break for a telephone call, and Sydney directed him to a small conference room down the hall where he could make the call in private. They would all take a thirty-minute break, Rebecca announced, and gradually the group dissipated, checking messages, stretching their legs.

Rose Marie looked up when Rebecca arrived. “Mr. Bastion’s office called. Everything’s arranged for the move tonight. And Peter called. He said he’ll be very late. The jury selection is going slowly.”

Rebecca’s smile disappeared. If jury selection was going forward, the trip to Italy was unlikely.
Voir dire
, the process of selecting a jury, sifting the prospects with questions and observation was a critical and tense process. This was a bad sign. She swallowed her disappointment.

In her office she checked the stack of pink message slips near the phone, noting that Case Roberts, the CEO of Roberts Engineering had called. She put the rest of the slips down and picked up the phone. Just then, the room began to spin. With the dial tone buzzing, she lowered her forehead to her hand, pressing the phone between her shoulder and her ear. Seconds passed and then she placed the telephone receiver in the cradle before anyone answered and fell back against the tall soft back of the chair, closing her eyes.

When at last she opened her eyes, the room had quit spinning. This was driving her crazy.

But she planted her hands on the armrest and said to herself,
Self—this is your life.

With a glance at her watch, she slowly turned the chair around, holding her head very still. Then she picked up the telephone, and dialed Amalise’s office. “How about taking a short break,” she said when Amalise answered.

“All right. The coffee room?”

“Yes. Five minutes.” Rebecca hung up the phone and leaned her head against the back of the chair, thinking that maybe she should try again to return Case Roberts’s call before going off to meet Amalise. But another wave of nausea ran through her like a ripple in still water. She closed her eyes, and within a few minutes it disappeared.

In the firm’s coffee shop on the seventeenth floor she poured a cup of coffee, added a little milk, a spoonful of sugar, and chose a table near the windows to wait for Amalise. From across the room she watched Amalise walk in and reach into the refrigerator for a Tab.

“I’m glad you called. Work’s still slow and I was getting bored.” Amalise lifted the cold bottle and sipped the Tab, eying Rebecca. “Plus, Jude fixed a huge sandwich for my lunch, ham and Swiss cheese on rye with avocado—a lunch like that tends to make me sleepy.” She grimaced. “Well, I added the avocado and the cheese.” Then she set the bottle down on the table and sat back. “Maybe I’ll start eating salads for lunch.”

Rebecca snorted. Amalise had been saying that for years, and yet she never gained a pound. She looked at Amalise, smiling. “How’s my best kid doing?”

“He’s waiting for summer. And he’s the star of his sixth grade class. At least we think so. Jude says Luke’s somehow gotten his genes.”

Rebecca laughed, since Luke was adopted that was impossible. But despite having a child almost in his teens, Amalise managed to keep up with her fast-paced life both at work and at home. How did she do it? She’d always had the ability to compartmentalize. She prioritized her home life and life at the office. And at work, Amalise took each problem as it came, focused and solved it before moving on to the next.

The question popped from her mouth. “How do you do it all, Amalise?”

Amalise wrinkled her brow. “How do I do what?”

Rebecca set the coffee cup down on the table, longing to confide the fear that was haunting her right now. In her mind, she tried to put the fear into words—responsibility.

No. It wasn’t that. But, a baby would bring her life to a screeching halt. Her dreams would disappear like smoke. She’d always thought that Peter agreed with her that a child would be an encumbrance, but—for the first time, now really thinking the question through, she found she wasn’t certain. The only thing she knew for sure was that, unlike Jude, Peter would never give up his work to stick around the house and help raise a child.

When she looked up, Amalise was studying her.

“How do you manage being a mother and . . .” She chewed on her lip, casting about for words—“And handling a demanding career like ours; working nights, weekends, traveling?” With a self-conscious shrug, she added, “Do you ever have time for yourself?”

Amalise tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound like you, Rebecca. You know as well I do that the reason this works for me is Jude. With his own company he has a flexible schedule that he can arrange around Luke’s. He picks Luke up at school, takes him along with him to work. Cooks when I’m not there. He goes to the soccer games. And the housekeeper’s around for the times when Jude’s not free.”

She gave a little shrug. “I wish I
could
do it all. But you and I both know that superwoman doesn’t exist. We all have to make choices. And, even then, you’ve got to have a plan . . . and a back-up plan.”

Rebecca nodded, leaning back. That was the sum total of the answer, of course. At least for Amalise. Rebecca had fallen for Jude years ago, before he and Amalise had finally recognized what had been right before their eyes since they were children: that they were meant for each other.