“No, we were too far apart.”
“Did anyone else make any offers?”
“I haven’t heard back yet.” John sighed, sensing his cross-examination was over. “Bennie, as I said before, I think I should resign.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Why? I mean, how can I work here anymore?” John raised his hands in appeal, obviously at a loss.
“How can you not? If you leave, it will confirm the reporter’s story, which we did not do in real time. And it leaves a huge, gaping hole in ourLondon Technologiescase. I don’t know how we can stage that litigation without you.” Bennie gazed at him evenly. “Bottom line, the best way to mitigate the damage to this firm is for you to work here and for us not to speak of this anymore. But it’s your choice, and I leave it to you.”
“I’d like to think about it.”
“That is your right and privilege.” Bennie opened the conference-room door. “Now if you’ll give us some time in private.”
“Again, I’m very sorry, to everyone,” John said to Mary and Judy, then headed for the door.
Bennie let him out and closed the door behind him. “Well, well, well,” she said, exhaling heavily. “We have an enemy in our midst.”
Judy sighed, miserably. “He’s not really our enemy, is he?”
“Yes, but no matter.” Bennie’s eyes glittered. “Let’s take a page from Machiavelli’s book. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ We can deal.”
Mary looked up, worried sick. “What do we do now?”
“We review the documents and try to understand the facts of our own case.” Bennie gestured at the credenza, where she had put the documents that John had given her. “In other words, we get to work.”
“Arg, I am so sorry.” Judy leaned back in her chair, as if pressed there by some unseen weight. “I can’t believe he did this.”
“Carrier, it’s not your fault.” Bennie slid her phone from her blazer pocket. “Let’s call Lao-Tzu before he reads it online.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A copper sun dipped behind the flat roofs, satellite discs, and trolley wires that hung over South Philly like an urban canopy, and Mary braced herself before she went into her parents’ house. She wished she could have gone straight home after the long afternoon at work, but her parents wanted to see her more often now that she was pregnant, which had upgraded her already lofty status as Amazing Daughter to that of Magical Grandchild Vessel.
Her parents, Vita and Matty DiNunzio, lived on Mercy Street, which was lined on either side by two-story redbrick rowhouses, differentiated by the color of their shutters (generally black), the railing on their front stoops (wrought-iron preferred), and the contents of their bay windows (Eagles, Phillies, or Flyers paraphernalia required, religious statuary optional, Virgin Mary always on point). Mary had grown up in this house, with its scrollwork D in the metal screen door, like all the other neighbors. When she was little, she’d thought it stood for “door” until she realized it stood for DiNunzio, DaTuno, and DeTizio, because back then, everybody was Italian-American. Nowadays the screen doors had changed, but the people were still the same. Which was the way of South Philly, if not the Tao.
“MARE, IS THAT YOU ONNA STOOP?” her father shouted through the screen door, because his hearing aid plugged his ear like a plastic cork, insulating him from all sound.
“Yes, Pop!” Mary opened the door and entered the long, rectangular house, which was so stuffed with people that it reminded her of a manicotti with too much ricotta filling.
Her father was watching the Phillies game with her husband, Anthony Rotunno, and her father’s three best friends, The Tonys—Tony-From-Down-The-Block LoMonaco, Pigeon Tony Lucia, and Tony “Two Feet” Pensiera, whose nickname had a nickname, namely Feet. They were honorary uncles and hung out at the house, like an octogenarian street gang. Beyond the living room was the kitchen, which held her mother and her mother-in-law, Elvira, whom Mary secretly called El Virus. Most people would think that a kitchen with two women wasn’t as full as a living room with five men, but these two women meant that the kitchen was not only dangerously over occupancy, but possibly thermonuclear. Mary’s mother and El Virus were as different as old-school and no-school, but lately they’d been getting along unusually well, both counting down to the birth of their grandchild, coming soon from a uterus near you.
“Hey, honey!” Her husband Anthony came over, smiling his warm smile, his espresso-hued eyes meeting hers, telegraphingI know you’re beat but we’ll get through this together, then giving her a big hug.
“Hi, love you.” Mary hugged him back, melting into the comfort of his arms and soft Oxford shirt. She knew he must’ve heard about the lawsuit against them, though she hadn’t had a spare minute to text him, since they’d worked all afternoon preparing their Answer and discussing it with Roger on the phone. Luckily, her parents and The Tonys didn’t go online, except Tony-From-Down-The-Block, who supplemented his Social Security playing PokerStars.com.
“MARE, HOW YA DOIN’? HOW YA FEEL? COME AN’ SIDDOWN!” Her father grabbed Mary and hugged her, and The Tonys clustered around her like a cloud of cigar smoke and Ben Gay fumes.
“Mare, you’re getting bigger every day!” Feet patted her belly, and Mary didn’t stop him. Everybody in the family touched her belly, and she figured it was preparing the baby for DiNunzio World, where you had to hug and kiss everybody anytime you left the room.
“Mary, it’s so good to see you!” Tony-From-Down-The-Block took her right arm. “You feeling okay?”
“Maria, Maria!” Pigeon Tony took her other arm, leading her into the kitchen, where she was love-attacked by her mother.
“Maria, come and siddown!” Her mother tugged her into the kitchen and placed her bodily in a seat at the table, which was already set for dinner.
“Honey, you look so tired!” El Virus hustled over with a full plate of ravioli covered in tomato sauce, or “gravy” in South-Phillyspeak. “You gotta eat somethin’ or you’re gonna faint!”
