The Lady of Situations (31 page)

In the office, in the days that followed, she was just as she had been before, impersonal, industrious, possibly a touch more aloof, as if to correct any misunderstanding incurred at their lunch. He invited her again, to prove there had been none, but their conversation was confined to business. What bothered him increasingly now was that in their discussions of the brief she never took any position but the one they would be taking in court. And if he ever ventured a remark to show that "strict construction" was for him as much a matter of personal conviction as of practical advocacy, she would simply be silent. And her silence seemed somehow to give her the edge.

Impatient one morning to the point of anger with himself, he paused on an abrupt impulse when passing the open door of her cubicle of an office. For a moment he simply gazed at the reading figure at the desk. She looked up at last in mild surprise.

"You look as if you'd had a sudden brainstorm."

"I think so," he replied.

"Well, tell me. Let me write it down quickly before it disappears."

"Oh, it's not for the brief. I was wondering if you might have dinner with me tonight."

"What we call a working dinner?"

"No, no. I thought we might explore our different constitutional philosophies."

"Just that?"

"Well, of course, what I really want is the charm of your company."

"Then what you're really proposing is a date?"

Really, she had a way of bringing a man down!

"I suppose you might call it that," he responded lamely.

"Then I'm afraid I must decline."

His lips parted. "Am I so objectionable?"

"Please come in, Thad." She rose and walked with deliberation to the door which she closed behind him. "You must know that I can't be ignorant of what your partners think of me."

"My partners?"

"Well, Mr. Haven, anyway. He's almost the partnership himself. He was my father-in-law's confidant and closest advisor. He had to be aware of Mr. Hill's view of my character. And I am almost certain he counseled him to shut me out of any participation in the family affairs."

"I suppose he did what his client wanted. Isn't that what you said the other day? A job's a job?"

"Yes, but I'm a humble clerk. Mr. Haven can pick and choose his clients."

"Would any lawyer turn down a Hill?"

He had wondered what a little fire would do to her. Now he was finding out. She was almost beautiful in her pale indignation.

"Yes, a gentleman might! Or at least he might tell his client that he was premising his testamentary scheme on a vile and unproven suspicion!"

"How do you know he didn't?"

"I don't
know.
But I've seen enough of how rich clients are treated by members of this firm to make a pretty shrewd guess. Mr. Hill knew nothing whatever of any troubles between his son and myself. All he knew was that poor Stephen blew his brains out. The rest was in his own sordid imagination. And I have little doubt that your sainted Mr. Haven chortled with sympathy while his favorite client voiced his horrid suspicions. Oh, I know. You think I'm just sore about the money. But it's not that."

"I don't think any such thing."

"It would be perfectly natural if you did. But I'm way beyond that. Mrs. Hill actually offered to settle something on me, and I very gratefully declined. My law school was all I would let her pay for. But I
do
care about my character. And that's why I don't want to be the date of a man who's not only the partner but the alter ego of a person who thinks I'm such a prime bitch!"

"I wonder you even want to work for his firm."

"That was Mrs. Hill's idea. She sponsored me. And it was the best offer I had. I wanted the experience of working for a big corporate law firm for a few years. I never had any intention of staying here permanently."

"Even if we made you a partner?"

"Which you never would!"

"Stranger things have happened."

"Stranger things have
not
happened. Stranger things, no doubt,
will
happen one day, but I'm not waiting around for that."

"At least I hope you don't think that I hold any of these vile opinions about you."

Her look became searching. "You don't? You really don't? Are you quite sure?"

"I think you're as straight as they come."

Her lips twitched. For a moment he thought she was going to weep. He hoped so, anyway. But she didn't.

"Thank you, Thad. For that I can almost forgive you for being a states' righter."

Her smile was charming! Suddenly elated, he was about to repeat his invitation when a counter-impulse checked him. What the hell was he getting into? If she accepted, after what had just passed between them, it would be a much more serious thing than had she assented in the first place. It was time to pull up. It was even time to recall that in the eyes of his church this woman had a living husband.

"Even a states' righter can recognize defamation of character. And now, if you will forgive me, Natica, I must let us both get back to work."

But he strode down the corridor to the senior partner's large corner office with its double view of the harbor and the Hudson River. The inside walls were lined with Haven's own set of
Federal Reporters
broken by little alcoves with shelves for his collection of Chinese porcelains. Its occupant was alone, at his desk, smoking his pipe and gazing out one of the great windows. Thad, ignoring his cheerful welcome, went straight to the point.

"Did Angus Hill have any real basis for the things you told me he charged Natica with?"

Haven's reaction to a crisis was always to appear even more relaxed. "Well, my boy, I suppose that depends on what you call a basis."

"Did he have such evidence as would convince a reasonable man?"

"I don't rightly know what evidence he had. But
he
was certainly a reasonable man. I don't suppose a reasonable man would condemn his only son's wife without something to go on."

"But don't millionaires see fortune hunters behind every tree? Haven't you told me that yourself? They think nobody could marry them for anything but their money."

"And maybe there's something in that," Haven retorted with a chuckle.

"In Mr. Hill's case I can well believe it. But Stephen was a very handsome guy. I remember him when he was a student at Yale and used to come down and lunch with you and his old man. I can see that the wife of a stuffy minister cooped up in a stuffy church school might have fallen for him. I'm not defending it, but it's very different from what Mr. Hill was supposing. I repeat: do you know of any proven facts against her?"

"Look, Thad..."

"Please, sir, tell me. Do you know of any?"

"All right, no, I don't." Haven now fixed his junior with a stare that seemed to call him to order. "But I do know this. She's a gal who ruined the school careers of two men in order to switch from a poor husband to a rich one. Can you deny that?"

"Why did she ruin the minister's career?"

"The scandal, my boy, the scandal. And Stephen Hill's suicide hardly leads one to suppose that she made him very happy. Everything about her smacks of bad news. I hope you're not getting too involved with her."

"What do you mean by involved?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind a flirtation. I wouldn't mind an affair so long as it didn't get out of hand. But I hope to God you're not thinking of marrying her!"

"How could I marry her? She's a divorced woman."

The eyebrows of the never surprised Haven rose. "But Barnes is dead. He was killed in the war."

"I thought he was a minister!"

"He signed up as an army chaplain and went down on a torpedoed troop ship in the Pacific. I may be a fool to tell you, but you were bound to find out eventually."

"Thank you, sir! Thank you very much."

For the second time that morning Thad now loomed in Natica's doorway.

"I've thought of a reason for you to break your rule of not dating a partner of Mr. Haven's!"

Her smile was quizzical, not unfriendly. "And what is that?"

"I'm the only one of them who can properly ask you."

"Because you're the only unmarried one?"

"Oh, you know."

"Everyone here knows everything about the partners. It's our favorite luncheon topic. But I
will
break the rule. Because you said I was straight. I liked that. Why don't you pick me up at my apartment at 900 Lex at seven? I can give you a drink before we go out."

He reflected that like George Haven she seemed resolved never to show surprise.

N
ATICA HAD
never entertained a sentiment for a man such as she now began to feel for Thad. With both Tommy and Stephen there had been a distinct antagonism lurking in a corner of her heart even at times when they had been closest to her, like a mean little dog ready to rush out and snap. With Thad her attitude was much kinder; it was almost as if she were trying to protect him. But protect him from what? Certainly he was by far the strongest of the three men. There was an evenness, almost a serenity in his sustained good nature; he appeared always to expect the best of people, without in any way being unprepared to face the worst. What she supposed she really wanted to protect was not so much him as his vision of the world as a place that could be improved by good will and hard work, and if it couldn't, well, that had to be God's will. He lacked imagination—there was no denying that—but his undoubted intelligence, salted with unexpected irony and a usually gentle sense of humor, came near to making up for it. And his political conservatism was devoid of the smirking malice found in so many right wingers. Indeed he wore it as a kind of sports jacket which in another season he might well doff. Or at least which she could hope he would.

That their relationship excluded other romantic interests for both and would lead, if to anything, to marriage, he took squarely for granted from the night of their first dinner together, after which, at the door of her apartment house, he had planted on her lips a single firm but proprietary kiss. He showed no need to demonstrate his masculinity; his large stillness and easy stance lent assurance that his wife would have nothing to complain about in that department. But she would have to wait, and if she couldn't wait, was she really the girl for him? But she was the girl for him, a glint in his eye at once assured her. He had no interest in or concern with the changing sexual mores of the day, and he never referred to her two marriages. He clearly intended to regard himself as her one and only spouse.

They went out together three nights a week; on the others he worked. They saw each other little now in the office, as the school case had been settled, the desegregationists having decided a better factual basis was needed for a Supreme Court argument, and Thad had reassigned her to another partner's case.

"I'd rather our friendship wasn't mixed up with business," he explained. "Do you agree?"

"I don't know that I agree. I certainly don't mind."

But she thought he was going rather far in refusing to take her to his downtown club. If they lunched together, it had to be uptown in a French restaurant. Some men, she reflected, had very compartmented minds.

In the brief time it takes for such things to be recognized, they began to be asked out as a couple by their friends. At a dinner party given by Tyler and Edith Bennett Thad was seated at their hostess's right and Natica at the host's, which she thought was going rather far.

"We're not engaged, you know," she told Tyler.

"Well, here's hoping you will be. You couldn't do better. That firm will be known as
Sturges,
Haven, Tillinghast & Dorr before you know it. And lawyers are making
real
money these days."

"So my poor old ship's come in at last!"

"Don't knock it, Natica. I'd almost given you up. Turning down that settlement offer of Uncle Angus's and then going into law. The big bar has no idea of sharing all that moola with you gals. Not for a good while yet, anyway. All you can expect is to draft wills and separation agreements."

"I thought I'd found that out. But then they switched me to Litigation."

"That was a special deal. I know all about
that.
And anyway, if you marry Thad, you'll have to quit the firm."

"Why?"

"They can't have partners married to clerks. It's against the natural order of things."

"Maybe I could come and work for you."

"You're joking, but the offer's still open. Except Thad would never let his wife work."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"He's the old-fashioned type. It sticks out all over him. He'll want you to stay home and have eight kids."

"As you did Edith!"

"Did, is right. Now we have two she says she's through. But I wouldn't mind if she worked her ass off. Better than getting up at ten and spending the next two hours on the telephone trying to decide whether to lunch at the Veau d'Or or the Crémaillère!"

Natica thought of asking Thad when he took her home that night if he really objected to working wives, but at the last moment she decided against it. Their friendship had become precious to her. She didn't want anything to cause even a ripple in it—at least not yet.

Aunt Ruth found him delightful; she was clearly holding her breath in fear that so desirable a match might not come off. Estelle Knight, who had fled from Averhill at her husband's demise to settle, with all her Jacobean accouterments, in a large dark apartment on upper Madison Avenue, where it sometimes amused Natica to dine, was also charmed by him. There was a district atmosphere among the family and friends that Natica had done better than could have been anticipated. Her parents found Thad, except for his religion, the model of all they could want in a sonin-law. He talked with genuine interest to her father about fishing, a subject of considerable interest to himself, and condoled with her mother in all her fancied trials and tribulations.

It was different with Thad's mother. Going up to Boston to meet her was as close as Natica had come to announcing an engagement, and even this she had tempered with the excuse of a proposed visit to the Gardner Museum. Mrs. Sturges, tall and large like her son, but ampler of girth, was craggy-featured and plain of garb. Nowhere but in Boston could she have made a living as a dressmaker. Natica could easily divine from the deep reserve of her approach and the intensity of her carefully selected questions how miserably torn she was between her disapproval of a divorced Protestant and her passionate longing to see her only son married and the father of her grandchildren. She must have almost given him up as a confirmed bachelor. Might not the infidel be her last chance?