Corrupted (12 page)

Anne chimed in, “Our flight leaves tonight, and we'll be back the Friday after Christmas. We're only taking off a total of six workdays, even if you include Christmas Eve.”

Lou turned to Bennie. “Please don't fire them. No one else will work for you. Except me.”

“Lou, what about you? Are you taking off next week, too?” Bennie hid her emotions, trying to get up to speed.

“Hell, no. My people always get stuck holding the bag while you Gentiles gallivant around.” Lou snorted. “You'll make it up to me on the high holy days. Or fishing season.”

Everybody laughed, including Bennie, but she realized that the associates were waiting for her to respond. She had to admit, her historic reaction would have been disapproval, but she felt different inside. All the way home, she'd sung along with the radio even though she didn't know any songs. Suddenly it seemed okay if the associates took off. She could handle any new client who came in or the matter would have to wait until after the holidays.

Bennie shrugged. “I think it sounds like a great idea. Go, and have a great time. In fact, don't come back until Monday, and we can talk then about New Year's.”

“Thanks!” said the associates, hugging each other, then Lou, and in the next moment, enveloping Bennie in a group hug fragrant with fading perfume and fresh estrogen. Bear jumped around, because goldens were never left out of a good time.

Mary picked up her plain nylon suitcase. “We should get going, then. We have to be at the airport two hours early to go through security.”

Judy grabbed her stuffed backpack. “Miami, here we come!”

Anne struggled with two heavy designer bags. “I hope I didn't forget anything.”

Bennie smiled. “Looks like you remembered
absolutely
everything.”

Lou laughed. “One bag's for makeup, the other's shoes.”

“Ha!” Anne headed to the elevator with the other associates, all of them saying, “Good-bye!” “Merry Christmas!” “Happy Hanukkah!”

“Bye!” Bennie called to them.

“Ladies, be safe!” Lou watched them go.

“We will, bye!” Mary called back as the elevator doors opened, and they bustled inside, then the doors closed.

“Aw,” Bennie said, oddly touched after they had gone. Maybe she did have some maternal instinct, after all. She patted Bear's head.

Lou looked over. “What will we do when they leave for college?”

“Replace them, cheap.”

“So how did it go in the boondocks?” Lou turned to her, with a smile draped by cheeks slackened with age. He was in his sixties, but still a handsome man, with flinty, knowing blue eyes, a strong nose, prominent cheekbones, and a ready laugh.

“A mixed bag.” Bennie hoisted her stuff to her shoulder and headed for her office, with Bear in tow. “Walk with me.”

“So you took the juvenile case?” Lou fell into step beside her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis, which he had on with a navy sportcoat and white oxford shirt. “I knew you would. You're a sucker for an underdog.”

“It turns out there's no underdog like a kid.”

“How's it going?” Lou looked over as they walked down the corridor past the empty associates' offices. The sky outside the windows was just beginning to darken, and the city lights brightening, the neon spikes of Liberty Place glowing red and green for the holidays.

“So far, so good. I got a short response time on a petition.”

“Hmm.” Lou's eyes narrowed. “But you look like you won something.”

“I won three days. It's a sad case.” Bennie reached her office and shed her purse and messenger bag on the nubby Berber rug.

“But you don't seem sad.” Lou followed her inside and eased into one of the soft patterned chairs opposite the desk.

“It's tough.” Bennie didn't know whether to tell him about Declan, especially since there was nothing to tell. She crossed her desk and sat down, as Bear trotted to his dog bed and curled into a doughnut.

“But you're smiling funny. Last time I saw you smile like that, was well”—Lou paused—“oh my God, you got laid!”

“
What?
No!” Bennie burst into nervous laughter.

“Don't tell me, I know you. You only smile like that if you get paid or if you get laid. And if you didn't get paid—”

“No!”

“But something in that category.” Lou wagged his arthritic finger at her, his hooded eyes narrowing. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“You're the worst liar in the Bar Association. Tell me. I'll keep your secrets, you know that.”

“Go, I have to work.” Bennie waved at the door, but Lou didn't budge.

“I knew it when you let the associates go! Since when would you let them take off together? Even
I
thought it was crazy.”

“You told me to let them go!”

“Because you wanted to, and the Bennie Rosato
I
know would never
want
to!” Lou's gaze locked on to her like an old pointer. “Who is he? You met someone. I can tell.”

“Relax.” Bennie shot him a look. “The only person I met is the uncle of the kid who started the fight with my client. His nephew's a total bully, who's given my client a hard time, almost his whole life. The kids are enemies and now they're in the same jail. Seventh graders.”

“That's young to be locked up.” Lou raised a sparse gray eyebrow.

“I know, and for
nothing
. For a school fight. It's all this zero-tolerance stuff, after Columbine and 9/11. Everybody's paranoid.”

“Everybody's paranoid, with good reason.” Lou fell silent a moment, and Bennie remembered he'd been close to two NYPD cops who were killed in the attack on the World Trade Center.

“I'm sorry, Lou. I didn't mean to bring it up.”

“It's okay.” Lou pursed his lips. “Anyway, back to the kids. So maybe the bully will grow out of it or get help. Either way, you can't hold that against the uncle, unless he's in denial.”

“He's tried to help. He and his sister are at a loss about what to do with the nephew. So the boys are like codefendants and he's like a co-counsel.”

“So who's this guy? Is he another lawyer?”

“No, a cop. But he's just a friend.”

“A
cop
? Excellent!” Lou's lined face lit up, in delight. “Where?”

“A state trooper, a sergeant.”

“A
statie
?” Lou's mouth dropped open. “Oh excuse
me
. No beat cop for my girl! You went on a date?”

“No.” Bennie wasn't about to elaborate.

“Then, what?”

“We
met
, is all.”

“Are you
meeting
again?”

“Saturday night, but it's not a date.”

“This is incredible!”

“It's not.” Bennie rolled her eyes.

“Astounding!”

“Enough.” Bennie waved him off.

“It's been
so
long.”

“Lou, slow down. I barely like him. He's bossy.”

“So are you.”

“Well, I'm a boss.”

“So is he! A sergeant! My opinion, this is a good thing. A very good thing.”

“Don't get crazy.” Bennie chuckled. “You don't even know him.”

“I know how he makes you feel. I can
see
that, and I want that for you.”

“He doesn't make me feel anything,” Bennie shot back, pretty sure it was true.

“Oh please!” Lou raised his hands, palms up. “Bennie, for once in your life, do something nice for yourself!”

“Lou, it's a man, not a manicure.”

“You're entitled to enjoy yourself, it's as simple as that.”

“We're friends, that's it. Colleagues. I'm not attracted to him and I'm sure he's not attracted to me.” Bennie's mouth went oddly dry. “We're not teenagers anymore.”

“What difference does that make? I'm older than you and I'm dating somebody new. Senior citizens get married every day.”

“We have different lives. We live in different places. We're both set in our ways.”

“You're not as set in your ways as you think. You just let the girls go on a road trip together.” Lou's tone softened, and he cocked his head. “So what, the two of you, you're different? The difference has to make a difference, you know what I mean? It's good for you to date outside your comfort zone.”

“We're
not
dating.”

“You always pick the same type, kiddo. Ivy League eggheads, lawyers and judges. Enough already. Life is short. Live a little. Follow your heart, not your head. Have a fling. Enjoy.” Lou shrugged happily. “If it turns into more than that, then you worry.”

Bennie scoffed. “That's like seeing a burning building and running in.”

Lou nodded happily. “In other words, like falling in love.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bennie got home, opening the door while Bear scooted in ahead of her, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor. She set her purse and messenger bag on the floor, slid out of her coat and hung it up on the coatrack, then flipped on the light switch, illuminating the small entrance hall and the scattered pile of the day's mail on the floor. She picked it up, went through it quickly, and set it on a cherrywood console table to be dealt with later. She didn't want to deal with mail just yet, having spent the last few hours trying to get work done at the office, between checking her BlackBerry for texts from Declan.

She looked around the house with new eyes, wondering if there was room for a man in her home, or her life. She loved the house, in the Fairmount section of the city, which she had bought as a shell and renovated with costly respect for its history, preserving its white plaster scrollwork and elegant crown molding. The first-floor layout was three large single rooms on a chain, the living room, dining room, kitchen, a floor plan typical of Philadelphia's colonial homes. Everything she saw was just the way she wanted it, wasn't it?

She walked through the living room, with its twelve-foot-tall windows that faced the street, and she had furnished it in an unapologetically feminine vibe; comfortable sectionals in an oatmeal color with bright red-and-pink patterned pillows, lamps with ginger-jar bases in creamy melon hues, and oil paintings that showed flowers in vases. At least the TV was unisex. She crossed into the dining room, flicking on another light switch and noticing that everything in the room were objects she loved and had collected over the years, but all of them were about her.

She ran a critical eye over her beloved Thomas Eakins lithographs of rowers on the Schuylkill River, and the real oar mounted at the top of the wall, with the red-and-blue-painted blade of the University of Pennsylvania, her alma mater. Did she really date only Ivy League eggheads? What would Declan think about her having an oar on a wall? Why did she care what he thought anyway? It was
her
house. She went into the kitchen and turned on the light to see Bear trotting toward her with his metal bowl in his mouth, which was one of the cutest tricks she'd ever seen.

“Good boy, it's time for dinner,” she said, reaching down to pet him and taking the bowl.

“Arf!” Bear danced excitedly as she went to the cabinet, dug a scoop of kibble, and dumped it into his bowl. She closed the cabinet and set the bowl down beside the refrigerator, continuing her home inventory. The kitchen was gender-neutral, but Declan's kitchen put hers to shame. He must've been a good cook because he had a knife block. All she had were knives and lawyerly sharp edges.

“So what?” Bennie asked no one in particular. Her countertops were clean and uncluttered, of a white Corian, and the cabinets were of a bright, warm pine, which coordinated nicely with a round cherrywood table off to the side. Her appliances were top-of-the-line, a Sub-Zero refrigerator and a Viking range, but the GE microwave got the most use, which proved that cooking was not a skill you could buy.

“Sue me, I'm not a chef,” Bennie said aloud, but Bear was buried in his kibble. She went to the refrigerator and opened it wide, even though she knew nothing would be there except a few cans of Diet Coke, a wrinkled head of aging romaine lettuce, and a bag of shredded cheddar, because she was too lazy to chop. She bought everything presliced and even prewashed, having more valuable things to do than prepare her own food—unlike a certain state trooper, who squandered his time making sure that Pennsylvania's men, women, and children were safe from lethal harm.

Bennie grabbed a can of Diet Coke and the bag of shredded cheese, went over to the kitchen table, popped the tab of the soda and took a fresh, bubbly slug. She opened the Ziploc bag, dug inside with her fingers, and managed to extract a handful of cheese, which she shoved into her mouth.
Ring!
went her BlackBerry, at just the wrong moment. She reached in her pocket for the phone and checked the screen, which read
D
ECLAN CALLING
.

“Hi.” Bennie swallowed, narrowly avoiding asphyxiation. “How are you?”

“I just left my sister's. She doesn't like the lawyer I hired. She thinks he's not good enough.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he's fine. He practices juvenile law in Hershey. He was willing to drop everything.”

“I already emailed him my petition and the judge's order, so he could copy them if he wanted to.”

“I know, thanks. I told my sister that, too. She wanted me to fire him, so I did. Richie is her son, not mine. I want her to have a lawyer she's comfortable with.”

“Understood. I bet I could rustle somebody up in the Philadelphia area, but I still think you'd be better off with somebody local, even Hershey.”

“She wants to interview a few of them, then pick one.”