Anything You Can Do (26 page)

This was the explanation he'd been looking for. Bailey had been trying to withdraw from the case, not pursue it. Her ethics were as beautiful as the rest of her. He clutched the piece of paper exultantly, barely able to restrain himself from tossing it into the air, from shouting to the heavens, from dashing out, grabbing the first person he saw, and forcing him to view this incredible document, prepared by the woman he loved.

He snatched up the phone, eager to share his joy with Bailey, then replaced it just as quickly. She'd only hang up on him again
, and he couldn't blame her. As rude as he'd been, she'd probably never forgive him.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for the phone again.

Might as well start crawling. Somehow, whatever it took, he had to make things right with Bailey.

*~*~*

Bailey's fingers drummed her desktop. She was still seething from Austin's condescending phone call at noon. Slamming the receiver in his ear had done little to decimate her anger. In fact, that latest addition had been like gasoline to the smoldering coals of her fire.

The more she thought about it, the hotter she became until flames finally erupted.

She shoved her chair back from her desk, crashing into the credenza behind her, and charged down the hallway to Stafford Morris' office.

Paula
looked up as she approached, then stood and reached for her arm, but Bailey was in no mood to be detained.

"What's wrong?"
Paula demanded.

Bailey shook off her hand and pushed into Stafford's office without even knocking.

"Come in, Bailey," he said, raising his eyes from the papers on his desk. "Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. "

Bailey tried to slam the door, but the obstinate thing closed slowly and quietly.

"I want to talk to you."

"By all means. Sit down."

"No!" She wanted to be able to tower over him. "I have three points to cover. Number one, representing that woman is wrong. I don't know why you're so insistent on doing it, but it's wrong. I refuse to be a party to it."

Stafford raised the hand clutching his cigar and started to open his mouth, but Bailey interrupted him. "I'm not through. Number two, you treat
Paula despicably. She's my best friend. She's been there for all my important events, and she should be there to see me made partner. But that's really beside the point. The point is, being a secretary doesn't make her another species. She's entitled to the same things we are. And that's not all," she declared as Stafford again started to speak. "Number three, this firm makes good money. We're not striving to make payroll, yet our accounting department tells me that our entire support staff is living barely above the poverty level. If you can't see the gross injustice of that, at least consider where you'd be without them."

The door flew open again, and
Paula burst into the room. "Bailey, what on earth do you think you're doing?" she demanded, closing the door behind her and standing in front of it. "Please tell me this isn't because of what I said last night. I never intended—"

"I'm expressing my opinions, that's what I'm doing," Bailey interrupted. "Standing up for what's right. This is supposed to be an office of law, of justice and equity, and I haven't seen much of that lately."

"So you come in here and make a big scene. What's that supposed to accomplish?" Paula made a move to take Bailey's arm.

Bailey sidestepped her. "At least I'm doing something. You hate this job, but you stay and take it."

"Until I get something better," Paula agreed. "In the meantime, I start night school next month, so I don't need you taking me on as a cause."

"Something better?" Stafford roared. "You're pla
nning to leave? You can't do that. I need you."

"She can and she will," Bailey declared. "And I will, too, right now! You can take your stupid partnership and blow it out your ear. I don't care to be assoc
iated with partners who have no ethics!" She started for the door, motioning Paula out of the way, then, on a sudden urge, turned back.

Stafford had just retrieved his cigar from the crystal ashtray and was moving it toward his mouth. Bailey snatched it from his grasp, crushed out the fire in the ashtray, then smashed the remaining three inches in the middle of Stafford's desk.

"Good-bye," she said, smiling and feeling satisfied for the first time in a while. "I'm going home."

"Take the rest of the day off, Bailey," he called after her, an act she felt somewhat diminished the impetus of her exit
.

Sharon handed her a pink message slip as she dashed into her office to retrieve her handbag. Austin had called again. She crushed the paper into a tight ball and tossed it into her wastebasket.

That afternoon Bailey paced back and forth across the plush carpet of her living room, though its luxurious feel failed to imbue her with the usual sense of contentment and accomplishment. Her well-ordered life, her rising career, her comfortable home—everything was chaos now.

And the beginnings dated back to Austin's advent into her life. Somehow he was responsible for all her problems, even beyond those of which he was the direct and proximate cause. Like bringing sunshine and joy into her life, then replacing them with anger and sadness. She'd been perfectly content before he came along and taught her the thrill of besting him in a contest or even running a close second, not to mention the thrill of touching him, being held against his hard body. She hadn't had those things before he came along, and their absence hadn't seemed to leave a gaping hole inside her chest. But their removal sure did, and that much was definitely his fault.

Everything else, she decided, from her problems with the Miller case to her fight with Morris, was indirectly Austin's fault.

She felt a soft touch on her ankle and looked down to see Samantha's bright eyes peering up at her.

"Oh, sweetheart!" Bending over, she scooped the fuzzy bundle into her arms and flopped onto the sofa. "As long as I have you, things aren't totally awful." Samantha planted a tiny lick on her chin, and Bailey smiled, cuddling the little animal.

The front door burst open, and
Paula called, "She's here."

"Who?" Bailey exclaimed, turning to see
Paula and Gordon coming inside.

"You," Gordon said, closing the door behind them.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?"

Samantha leaped over the back of the sofa to greet the newcomers, and Bailey turned around to again face the window. "I couldn't think of anyone who might be on the other end that I wanted to talk to," she replied. That should give them a hint.

But it didn't. Paula closed in on one side of her and Gordon on the other.

"We've been worried about you,"
Paula said. Bailey stood and moved to a chair. "Obviously you wasted your concern. Why don't you two go to dinner or a movie or Las Vegas or something?" Surely they couldn't miss that hint.

"Bailey, I never intended to upset you so much last night. Why didn't you say something to me before you attacked Stafford Morris with all guns blazing?"
Paula asked.

Bailey reached down to where Samantha had curled at her feet and lifted the dog into her lap. Maybe if she ignored them, they'd go away and leave her to sort things out in private.

"Don't you think I'm capable of doing my own complaining?" Paula continued. "Why did you risk your job over something that doesn't even affect you? You need to call Morris and apologize."

"When rental rates on the Plaza go down," she grated.

"But you know it's not going to matter in the long run," Gordon interjected.

"Oh, sure," Bailey exclaimed, losing the few remnants of patience she'd had left. "You'll marry
Paula, and she'll never have to worry about money again, but what about the person who takes her place? What about the other secretaries? What about the principle of the thing?"

"What makes you think he's marrying
Paula?" Paula interrupted, raising one eyebrow as she peered first at Bailey, then at Gordon.

"Way to go, friend," Gordon complained.

Bailey slumped lower in her chair and sighed. "Damn! I'm sorry, Gordon."

Perched on the edge of the sofa cushion,
Paula somehow made a formidable appearance in spite of her diminutive size. "Is this something the two of you have cooked up? Is this supposed to solve my problems? Marry Gordon and be an appendage? If that's not just like two lawyers!" She sprang to her feet and started across the room with Gordon right behind her.

Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "Don't give Bailey so much credit," he said. "It was my idea."

Paula turned her head to glare first at his right hand on her shoulder, then at the left, then directly into his eyes. Gordon jerked his hands from her shoulders as though she had suddenly become a ball of fire.

"Can you help me out here?" he appealed to Bailey. "You got me into this."

"Don't give me too much credit," Bailey said with a laugh. "Anyway, I'd probably only make it worse. You're on your own, Romeo."

"
Paula, let's go to dinner and discuss this," he pleaded.

"No way. We're here to save Bailey from herself, and we can't leave until we do." She folded her arms and glared at him.

Gordon threw his hands up. "Fine. I wanted to do this right, with flowers and champagne and a diamond. Can you at least corroborate me on this, Bailey?"

"Absolutely. I'll give you a notarized statement. He asked me to help pick out a ring this evening,
Paula." Bailey stroked Samantha's head, enjoying the exchange, glad to be temporarily diverted from her own problems.

Paula
stood unmoving, making no response, but Bailey saw the corners of her mouth quiver slightly just before she compressed her lips to stop the incipient smile.

"Well?" Gordon demanded.

"Well what?"

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Why should I?"

Gordon rolled his eyes then tried to take one of her hands. She tucked them neatly beneath her still-folded arms.

"I want to marry you," he shouted.

"So you two won't have your social consciences upset by watching me working for a creep, earning a pittance?
"

"No. So I can live with you. So I can take care of you. Because I love you!"

Paula's eyes wavered, and Bailey thought she was going to give up her resistance, but her stance didn't relax. "I don't intend to stop working at the firm until I get my degree."

"Your degree?" Gordon's eyes widened in surprise.

"She's going to night school," Bailey explained. "So she won't have to work for a creep and earn a pittance."

Gordon backed onto the sofa. "A legal secretary by day, a student by night
—it doesn't sound like you've scheduled any time for me."

Paula
finally gave in and sat down beside him.

"Maybe I could work you in on weekends and holidays."

Gordon shook his head. "Why couldn't I fall in love with a lazy woman?"

"I suppose for the same reason I couldn't fall in love with someone in an honorable profession."

As her two friends sat gazing into each other's eyes like total idiots, Bailey tried to tiptoe quietly from the room.

"Hold it!"
Paula called just before Bailey reached the safety of her bedroom door.

"I think the two of you can carry on from here without my help," Bailey protested.

"Maybe, but you haven't been carrying on very well without us."

"I'll try to do better in the future," she promised sarcastically, "if you'll just go away for a li
ttle while and let me have some time to sort out this mess."

Paula
nodded. "Will you promise to think about calling Stafford Morris to apologize? This is your career, Bailey. I know how important it is to you."

"True. But my career isn't dependent on Stafford Morris. I could open my own office." Though she hadn't considered it before, the idea didn't sound so bad. "And you could come to work for me."

"That's about as dumb as the time you decided to dye your hair black using fountain pen ink."

"Do I have any chance at all of getting rid of the two of you?" Bailey asked, ignoring
Paula's rude memory. There were obvious drawbacks to lifelong friends.

Finally, though, they left, arms wrapped around each other, sappy expressions on their faces.

But she and Samantha barely had time to get situated on the sofa before the doorbell rang.

Bailey studied the solid rectangle sep
arating her from the outside world. She couldn't think of anybody she wanted to see. Moving Samantha to her shoulder, smiling as the little dog curled against her neck, she elected to ignore the doorbell.

The second ring was long and insistent and seemed louder, though of course, that was impossible.

She wasn't surprised to hear Austin's voice. "Bailey, I know you're in there, and I'm not going away until you open the door."