Until (25 page)

I thought it was right,

In fact it felt great.

I now had my love,

No need to wait.

For love, for passion

My wait was now complete.

But now she is gone,

But now she is gone.

Must a tree wait?

Must a flower wait to bloom?

That's a bad analogy I make,

For they too must wait, that's true.

So I'll wait to find another,

This time I'll assert my will.

But she too will break my heart,

And again I'll wait until.

Until rain falls from the heavens,

To an earth so barren and dry,

Until clouds form angles,

So high up in the sky.

Until kids cease to ask why.

Looking out her window, Betty smiled with a newfound strength and said, “See that?
Vander,
you can't make me cry! You are not worth the salt in my tears! You are . . .” And then Betty saw her neighbors' darkened house with the Big Wheel behind the Chevy station wagon and she sat in her car and cried, alone.

   Dear Drew:

Today marks a week since it happened, and I appreciate the shoulder. The first couple of nights were hell. I don't think I had an idea how much this man had become a part of me. I went around the house and de-Evanderized it the day after the incident, and I thought doing that would make me feel better. I took a long ride in the country to clear my head and even wrote him a letter just to get the feelings out and never sent it to him. But none of that really helped.

I know I never told you what it was he actually said, but I haven't told Jacqui either. One thing he said to this person on the phone is that I offered to give him a few dollars, when in actuality I offered to
loan
him the money. This is something I could never tell Jac, because she is so jaded about love and men. Yes, I feel foolish now looking back, but I guess for a moment I thought if I did loan him the money, it would bring back the old Evander. I felt if he was happy career-wise I could stop waiting, as your poem says, Until . . .

I called a friend who works in the state's attorney's
offices and they picked Evander up Friday from his job. My friend told me the officer called him and said Evander was crying like a baby in front of all the customers. I don't know why that didn't bring me joy, but it didn't. Then my friend told me that he doubted they could keep him in jail very long with the fraud charge, although he had priors I was not aware of. So he will be out to do what he did to me to someone else, more than likely tomorrow.

And then last night his mother calls me. She actually called the day after the incident and I never returned the call. When I saw her name on the Caller ID box I almost didn't answer the phone. But just before the answering machine picked up I grabbed it. Mrs. Jones was nice to me, so in spite of her son. I thought I at least owed her the benefit of allowing her to tell me what was on her mind.

She didn't do what I expected, which was to ask me to drop the charge. She just told me she was sorry for what happened. She adores her son and I guess he is a good son to her, and she told me more about his history with women. She said that if she had any idea he would pull the same scam on me, she would have told me. But she said she watched us together in Orlando and when she saw us kissing on her front porch she thought I could be the one that would allow him to heal some of the pain from the past.

Oh well, I did not mean to be so long-winded and I thank you for being there. It's almost 6:00
A.M.
and I have an appointment to meet with a gentleman about employment at 9:00. As I mentioned, of the three I spoke to in brief last week, I enjoyed the conversation with his company the most, and I think if today's meeting goes well, I may decide to work with them. Say a prayer for me.

Until . . .

Betty

Betty looked at her watch and was happy to see that, just as planned, she was ten minutes early for her scheduled
interview with Latrobe & Fitzgerald. As she sat with the latest edition of
Time
in her lap, she wanted to look at the small things she could not determine in her research of the firm. What time the partners arrived, how the attorneys interacted with the clerical staff, and whether the firm was any more integrated than the one from which she had just resigned.

After talking to other attorneys, her decision to work with Latrobe & Fitzgerald was an easy one. They were an up-and-coming firm, and although they did not have the national presence of Murphy, Renfro and Collins, they were well respected in the state. She could ask for and likely receive a larger compensation package with firms in major cities such as Atlanta, but since she had just purchased a home, such a move was not practical.

Betty noticed the decor was not as opulent as Murphy, Renfro and Collins. There were no silver tea sets in the reception area, no aroma of potpourri in the air, and the firm was on the second floor in one of the less prestigious areas of town. But as she waited to speak to the senior partner, it did not matter to her. Of the three firms she had seen, this was the only one to indicate that not only would they give her a partnership within six months, they were willing to commit to doing so in writing, according to the managing partner, Charles Fitzgerald. He had advised Betty that only a meeting with the senior partner, Benjamin Latrobe, stood between her and a new beginning with Latrobe & Fitzgerald.

As she sat thumbing through the magazine, she thought about DLastRomeo and how tempted she was to casually drive by his office just to see if this man looked anything like she imagined in her mind. But she could not, for fear that seeing him would in some way ruin the relationship she had with the friend she so badly needed in her life.

Moments after Betty declined a cup of tea from the office receptionist, the senior partner walked into the waiting area. “Benjamin Latrobe,” he said by way of introduction. “And you must be Betty Robinson.”

“Good morning,” she said as they shook hands, and then she reached down for her attaché case.

“Right this way, Ms. Robinson.” As they walked down the corridor he said, “So sorry I'm late. It was one of those mornings.”

“No problem,” she said as she glanced into each of the opened offices they passed.

“Well, actually it is a problem. I'm a real stickler for promptness and here I go getting off on the wrong foot in our first interview.”

They entered Mr. Latrobe's office and Betty was surprised to see it was twice the size of Jack Murphy's, decorated in redwood with classical music playing softly in the background. “May I get you a cappuccino?” he asked.

“Thanks,” she said, “but no, thank you.”

“Are you sure? We also have Jamaican Blue Mountain and tea.”

“I'm sure,” she said as she sat in front of his desk. “But I appreciate it.” As he sat behind his desk Betty said, “Mr. Latrobe, there's a question I have been dying to ask. Are you related to the famous nineteenth-century architect, Benjamin Latrobe?”

Latrobe looked at her with surprise. “How did you know that name?”

Betty smiled. Her research had paid off. “I was just curious. I remember his work from a class I took in college, and since you are from the Northeast, I thought there might be a connection.”

Laughing, he said loudly, “You're hired!” And then as his chuckles decreased he added, “You know, you are the first person to mention his name to me since I've been down here, and we've lived in Florida for going on forty years.”

“Well, he did great work. You should be very proud.”

“We are,” he said, looking at Betty a little differently. “We are indeed.” And then his eyebrows settled as he said, “Ms. Robinson, I've talked extensively to Mr. Fitzgerald about bringing you into the firm. I must say he is very enthusiastic about adding you, but I will be very up front with you. We are not in the practice of bringing in associates with the promise of
guaranteeing
in writing they will be a partner. Actually you would be the first.” He paused to look again at Betty's résumé and smiled. “But I will hasten to add that
rarely have we had the opportunity to bring in an attorney at your age with these credentials.”

“Thank you.”

Betty quietly watched as he once again reviewed her career on paper. He placed the lone piece of paper in the center of his immense desk and removed his gold-framed glasses. “Ms. Robinson, I will be candid with you if you don't mind.”

“By all means.”

“I was a good friend of Jack Murphy's. Although I did not know you, I had heard him mention a hotshot new attorney. I know the caliber of attorneys Jack attracted, so there is no doubt in my mind that if you were to join us, you could pick up the ball immediately and run with it. I must also say I spoke to Mr. Collins and Renfro. Collins was a little on the fence about you in some aspects, which I can understand. If I had invested six or seven years in an attorney only for her to practice elsewhere, I might not give her a ringing endorsement either. But let's face facts. Renfro, as you can imagine, was not on the fence at all. Now, I know Franklin. I have had him and both his former and new wife over to the house. He has his ways, and I have an idea of how it might have been for you to work with him. But I need to talk to you about that case. I know you are not at liberty to go into detail at this juncture, but I need to know more about why you resigned.”

Betty did not answer immediately as the right response formed in her mind. And then as the senior partner leaned forward on his elbows she said, “First of all, Mr. Latrobe, I appreciate the fact that you would put this issue on the table. The sole reason I joined the firm was because of Jack Murphy. It was not because of money. It was not because of the prestige. It was because Jack was simply the lawyer I wanted to become. He spoke to our law school once,” Betty continued, “about a case where he defended this lady and she needed what little money he won so badly he refused to subtract his fee. So instead she paid him in—”

“Campbell's soup,” both attorneys said together.

“Once I was there when she brought him his lunch,” Mr.
Latrobe said. “I think she did that every Wednesday until she died, even though Jack told her to stop.”

“That's the attorney I aspired to be. I know making money for the firm is important. Don't get me wrong. But so is fighting for people who have been wronged.”

Silence swelled and was broken as Mr. Latrobe said, “I can appreciate that, Ms. Robinson. But looking at your résumé, I noticed you also logged some serious pro bono hours.”

“Yes I did, sir. When I was in college and the president of the Black Law Students Association, one of the things I preached to them was about never forgetting the small people who sometimes could not afford justice. People like a lady I defended earlier this year by the name of Consuela Lopez.”

“I'm familiar with Mrs. Lopez,” he said, and leaned back in his chair. “If the truth be known, I think she visited our firm for representation and we just did not have the resources to take the case. I read that Midway has decided not to appeal the verdict.”

“Correct, sir. Here is a woman whom no one in our firm wanted to touch because of the particular situation surrounding the accident. But she deserved a voice, and I am very proud of the fact that her voice was heard.”

“But our number one obligation, Ms. Robinson, is returning a profit to our partners. While that may sound boorish on the surface, it's reality. Once that is done, then we can do all of the other wonderful things to correct the ills of the world. I am not against pro bono work. I know we are all obligated to doing
some
of it. And yes, I, too, feel an obligation to give fair representation to all. We all do. But I can assure you when Jack started that firm he would not allow an associate to log this many hours. It's just not feasible, especially in today's economic climate.”

Betty remained silent as the wheels spun in her head.

“Having said that, Ms. Robinson, I must tell you there is nothing that I can foresee which would prohibit our scheduling a time on Thursday to look at numbers. I already knew you would be an asset before we met this morning. And I have no problem with guaranteeing your partnership with
a few minor stipulations regarding billable hours, et cetera. But I think if the numbers are in the ballpark, we can put together a compensation package for the partners to vote on Friday,” he said, with a smile returning to his voice. “If all works out, we can have you become a part of our team on Monday morning.”

Betty lowered her head thoughtfully and noticed she was still holding her keys. She saw that one of Evander's keys was still on the circular ring. Staring at the key, Betty said just above a whisper, “You know, sir, the day I drove to court for the verdict on that Lopez case I was scared to death. I could hardly sleep the night before. I knew no one expected me to pull it off.” She returned her eyes to Mr. Latrobe as her voice gained confidence. “But I did. I won that case, and for one moment, the
system
worked. I know that sounds Pollyannish, but it made me proud. And it made me even happier to see Jack's face after I won. But you know something? After that case, all of my joy left. All aspects of my life were exactly where I wanted them to be, yet I could barely smile. I was not excited about my career as a litigator. But you know,” she said, leaning back into the burgundy leather and rubbing her finger over the serrated edge of Evander's house key, “I'm excited now. I really am. Not because I'm joining you here at Latrobe & Fitzgerald. Because sitting here today . . . while talking to you . . . I've decided to establish my own firm.”