“Well, the ethical problem is that the firm has represented Dumbarton.” Mary braced herself. “His complaint is that nobody from this firm can represent OpenSpace against Dumbarton.”
“Okay, yes, go on…” Judy motioned to Mary to keep talking.
“So, uh, we need to think outside of the box. The conflict is that I’m a partner in the firm. One option is to give up the case, and the other is to”—Mary braced herself—“the other is to consider taking some time away from the firm.”
“What?” Judy asked, astonished.
“Listen,” Mary rushed to explain, “if I did, the conflict would go away, since I never represented Dumbarton myself or was privy to any of its confidential information. So I was thinking, maybe I could take some time out to work on this case, like a sabbatical, or I would have to leave the firm.”
“Are youserious?” Judy’s eyes flew open. “Time out from thefirm?Leave the firm?How can you say that? Your name is on the sign and letterhead. You just made partner! You can’t go!”
“I don’t want to.” Mary felt guilty seeing Judy so upset and she could barely bring herself to look at Bennie, but now the words were out of her mouth. “I mean, I would never do it otherwise, but it’s an option, a way out—”
“No it isn’t!” Judy wailed. “It’snotan option! You can’t leaveme!”
Mary saw Bennie looking aghast, which provoked a profound wave of guilt. She didn’t want to leave the firm but she didn’t see any other way. She had come to love Bennie, even though she was still intimidated by her from time to time. She had worked for her for almost ten years and had been amazed when she’d become Bennie’s partner. They’d grown to be friends even though Bennie was hardly girlfriendy and they’d never socialized outside of work, even eaten out together. But working as partners had brought them closer, without Mary even knowing it. And she owed Bennie so much. Bennie had taught her that she was a better lawyer than she’d ever realized, and ironically, that she was strong enough to make it on her own.
Mary faced Bennie’s pained eyes. “Bennie, I’m sorry. Believe me, I know this is hurtful, but I can’t turn my back on Simon, Rachel, my family, and the whole entire community. If you had seen them at the hospital this morning, you would understand. It’s no-win, either way.”
“Mary.” Bennie regained her composure, her lips forming a grim line. “You and I have a partnership agreement. It can be dissolved by written notice from either one of us, at any time. If you wish to dissolve the partnership agreement, please let me know. It’s your decision.”
“I don’twantto do it, I just think I’m in a position where I have to do it.” Mary felt heartsick. She had to make Bennie understand. There was no good answer. “I go way back with Simon and—”
“You needn’t justify it to me or anybody else. No hard feelings. I understand. Make whatever decision you need to, but do it quickly.”
“But I’m so sorry—”
“No need to apologize. You can’t live your life to please other people, even me. Now I really do have to get to work.” Bennie turned away and resumed walking toward her office. “Let me know your decision.”
Judy grabbed Mary’s arm, her expression agonized. “Mary, you can’t mean this! You can’t leave the firm! We’ve worked together forever! Two peas in a pod, best friends! You can’t do this!”
“Judy, let’s talk about it—”
“No, Mare, I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to even consider it! You’re blowing up our law firm? Our friendship?”
“Nothing blows up our friendship,” Mary said, speaking from the heart. “Let’s go to lunch and talk it over.”
“I can’t, I’m too upset to eat!”
“Let’s go.” Mary took her hand, tugging her away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bennie stood at her office window, trying to collect her thoughts. Her view faced north, an orientation she favored because it was upward, onward, straight ahead. But she didn’t feel that way right now. Things had happened so fast, and she didn’t know how everything had come undone. In a single day, she had lost a partner—and a major client—but that didn’t matter. Which, right there, was a revolution in her own priorities, turning them topsy-turvy.
Bennie’s restless gaze flitted to the skyscrapers, all of them sleek monoliths of mirrors. If she looked hard enough, she wondered if she could see herself, a bewildered woman standing at a window. Her cell phone rang in her purse, but she let it go to voicemail. There were stacks of correspondence on the desk and email filing into her inbox. There were calls to return and briefs to write, but she had come to a total standstill. And suddenly she realized why.
She felt hurt. Loss. Bewilderment. She was having an emotional reaction at the office.
Bennie smiled to herself, since that was practically against federal law, or at the very least, the first time it had ever happened. Not that she was an android, because she had ActualHuman Emotions, but she tried to compartmentalize them at work. It was necessary when you were the boss, and she had to separate herself from the associates, way back when she had hired Mary and Judy. But since then they had worked so many cases together and gone on so many adventures, that she had come to feel closer to them, without realizing it until now.
Bennie swallowed hard. She didn’t understand why Mary felt so strongly about keeping the case, but Mary was tied up with her family, her friends, and her community, connecting so easily to people that she could chat up a parking meter. Bennie was nothing like that, nor did she envy it; she was a loner, an only child raised by a single mother who suffered from depression. She never knew her father, had never even met him until it was far too late. She relied on herself and had made her life into what she wanted it to be, gloriously on her own.
She looked at the mirrored skyscrapers, her thoughts racing. No one but her knew how much hard work it had taken, how often she had acted unafraid when she was in fact afraid, how much fighting, kicking, and clawing the law could be, day after day, year after year. Her law firm had finally reached its pinnacle, and she’d earned her success, then she’d even found Declan, who was a great man even by her incredibly picky standards. But she had just been thrown for a loop.
Bennie wondered if she should have done anything differently with Mary, but she wouldn’t have changed it. She could have told Mary that Dumbarton had fired her, but that would’ve only made Mary feel worse. The last thing Bennie wanted to do was guilt her into staying. Bennie couldn’t control whether Mary stayed or left. If she thought about it—really thought about ithard—the only thing she really wanted was for Mary to do what was right for her.
It struck her as an epiphany, and it lightened Bennie’s heart and gave her a sense of direction, if not northward, then close. Because she could help Mary get what she wanted, and that’swhat a friend would do. Evidently she had become Mary’s friend, whether anybody knew it or not. And the only thing that stood in the way of Mary getting what she wanted was Nate.
