 
Kisses and Lies

by

Meredith Morgan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Meredith Morgan

All Rights Reserved

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Chapter 1

"Let me make sure I understand this. My oldest and dearest friend is a backstabbing liar and cheat. My other best friend and favorite colleague is a skirt-chasing bastard who, for years, encouraged people to believe he was screwing me to enhance his reputation as a lady's man. What is more, my kind, wonderful husband is a mean, hateful son of a bitch."

Mary Jo stretched out on the double chaise, where she lay with her husband beside their backyard pool, enjoying a lovely late-summer afternoon. She looked up into his eyes, grinning, "So tell me, what else don't I know about my life?"

Frank smiled back at her and stroked her cheek, "I think that's most of it. The most important thing you have always known."

"What would that be?"

"That I love you and I want you to be happy."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the hollow place at the base of his neck. The certainty of his love and his support were sufficient for her. With that, she would be able to deal with all the rest.

At least, she hoped she could.

"Why didn't I see this coming?"

"I would like to say it is because you're pure of heart and you never see any malice in the people you love. You automatically make excuses for us when we deviate from the wonderful images you hold of us. That's what I have always believed. And, I think there is a lot of truth in it."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

He nodded, "But, I don't think that's the whole truth. I think part of it is that you quite simply get so wrapped up in what you are doing, most of the time you're oblivious to what is going on around you."

"You mean like 'denial'?"

"No. I mean as in obliviousness."

"Or, clueless-ness?"

"Those two things are not exactly the same, in my opinion. Clueless people are those (women and men) who are too stupid or shallow to understand their circumstances. You, my love, are oblivious not because you are stupid or shallow; you are neither. What you are is ... sort of self-absorbed."

"You say that as though it isn't a totally bad thing."

He shrugged. "I don't think it is necessarily a totally bad thing. Your ability to focus on a given task and to block out distractions made you an exceptional student and has brought you to the brink of being a great lawyer. In the case of your relationships, however, your focus on your career allowed you to miss some significant warnings in your personal life that ended up causing you a lot of heartache."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I think there was more 'denial' going on than you want to believe." She reached up and tweeked his nose, "You like to make excuses for my weaknesses and failings, too, you know."

She closed her eyes and went on, "I think there was a part of me that knew or suspected some of the crap that was going on. I chose not to acknowledge it because I didn't want to deal with it. Instead, I buried my head in my work and in my relationships with you and our daughter and kind of hoped all the rest would sort itself out."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, "You never liked Christian or Annette, did you?"

He rubbed the back of her neck and paused for a long time before speaking, weighing his words carefully. "Let's just say, we got off to a rough start and never managed to get past it."

"Will you tell me why?"

"I will tell you what I think about all of this, but first, you tell me your version of the story."

"Starting when? Why?"

"The beginning might be a good place to start. You are not a very introspective person; telling your story out loud to me may force you to consider some things you have not thought about before. Who knows? We might both learn something."

Mary Jo shrugged and snuggled closer. He was right. She was not an introspective person. She lived her life facing forward, and rarely thought about the past. It took her a while to get started. Frank's relaxed body and stillness told her he would give her all the time she needed. The way he held her tight and the insistent look in his eye told her he was not going to let her off the hook.

She sighed and began to talk.

Chapter 2 - Mary Jo's Story

I met Annette on our first day of Junior High. My family had moved from Indiana to Cincinnati during the summer after I finished the sixth grade because my dad's family's farm in Indiana was not making enough of a profit to support all of us. Before that we lived with my grandparents. My uncle and his wife lived in a separate house on the property. My grandpa, uncle and dad worked the farm while the women all worked in town. Gram was a cleaning lady in the high school, Aunt Lil was a hairdresser and Mom was a practical nurse who worked at a clinic.

We moved to Cincinnati so Mom and Dad could find better paying jobs. The idea was that their salaries would support our family and, hopefully, we would have extra money to help with the farm expenses. Dad found work in plant that made plastic products. Mom got a job as a nurse in a long-term care facility for severely ill and terminal patients.

None of us was happy about moving away from our home. The first year after the move was probably the worst period in my parents' marriage. They were both unhappy and they took it out on one another. I was unhappy about the move and, even worse, I was frightened by discord in our home. I was afraid they were going to get a divorce after uprooting us all to this strange place. It was a difficult time for all three of us.

Within a year, however, we had settled in well and we all eventually came to love it here and we all now consider Cincinnati to be our home. That was later. During our first few months here we were all homesick, miserable and very worried about our future. I was scared to death all day nearly every day about everything imaginable. I try to think of that time as little as possible.

Add to that the the ordinary anxiety about matriculating to Junior High and you can imagine what a horrible summer I had. I was a total wreck by the first day of school.

I met Annette in the home room period that day. I took a seat half-way back in the first row by the door. The other students talked among themselves. It seemed to me that they all knew each other. I felt alone and out of place. I thought everyone would think I was some kind of country bumpkin hayseed, which is precisely what I was. I started to shrink into my own personal protective zone when a beautiful girl sitting in front of me turned around and said, "Hi. I'm Annette Summers. Are you new to the district, or did you just go to a different elementary school from me?"

I said, "My family just moved here from Indiana. I went to elementary school in Milan."

Annette said she thought that was cool. She told me that she had lived her entire life in the same house and had only been past the Indiana state line once or twice. She said she had never really met anyone from "someplace else." I thought that was kind of funny. Milan, Indiana, was only about 50 miles from where we were sitting, and Annette talked about it as though it were another country. Nevertheless, she didn't make fun of me for being a hick. I was grateful for her kindness. I needed a friend. So, I didn't tease her for being so parochial.

It turned out that we were in nearly every class together. We moved from class to class and sat next to each other. We ate lunch together and Annette introduced me to the people she knew from her elementary school. I didn't think it was odd at the time, but she seemed to have very few friends. She wasn't exactly shy, but her social skills were not very good. She was kind of outspoken and opinionated. I later learned that the kids didn't like her very much.

She was nice to me, and that was all I cared about. I wasn't interested in being popular, so having a friend who was not exactly Miss Congeniality was not a problem for me. If anything, since I was kind of a brainiac nerd with opinionated tendencies of my own, we seemed to be natural best friends. We were kind of the two odd-duck females in the school who clung to each other because nobody else wanted to hang out with us, and because neither of us was willing to do what we would need to do in order to be more popular. Think Romy and Michelle, only smart.

It turned out that Annette lived within walking distance of my house, that is if you climbed a fence and cut through a neighbor's garden. Going by way of the street was a relatively easy bike ride, as well. Proximity that did not require parental transportation allowed us to be virtually inseparable. Annette became an extra member of our household. I was sort of a hanger-on at her house as well. We spent more time at my house because Annette came from a very large family. Their house was like a bus station, with people coming and going and a lot of hollering and racket.

My house was quiet. Mom and Dad both worked long hours, so Annette and I typically had the place to ourselves after school. We would do our homework and then start dinner. Most of the time, Mom would have meat thawed and potatoes peeled in the fridge. Annette and I would put the food on the stove or in the oven. When Mom got home from work, all she had to do was add the finishing touches.

Annette ate most of her evening meals with us. I am not sure anyone in her family ever missed her. There were so many of kids in her family, I was never sure Mrs. Summers noticed when a few were missing. She was a very nice lady and a good mother, but she was very busy and exhausted all the time. I don't know how the woman functioned.

Annette and I were inseparable through high school. She was kind of a jock. She played volleyball, basketball and softball in their respective seasons. Her family supported her, _en masse_ , with great cheering and yelling. I went to all her games, too, and became a sort of auxiliary member of the Summers Cheering Section. Sometimes, usually for really big games and championships, my parents came, too, because they had sort of adopted her as a second daughter in our family as well.

I was a very serious student. I didn't play team sports or socialize very much, although Annette did shame me into joining the track team for the exercise. I totally sucked as a competitive runner, but the experience caused me to develop good exercise habits.

My main social outlet was hanging out with Annette's family. When it came time to go to school dances or other date-like events, Annette would enlist one of her brothers who wasn't busy to be my escort. Half the time she got another brother or one of their friends to take her since she didn't date any more than I did. Smart girls and female jocks were not exactly the most sought-after dates in our high school.

I certainly didn't care, and don't think Annette did, either. Getting involved with boys, especially local boys from the neighborhood, did not factor into our plans, or at least it didn't factor into Annette's plans. I didn't really have a plan or any real goals in life. It was as though each day gave me so much to think about and to do I never had time to think about the future.

Annette went to nursing school at Mount St. Joseph College after high school. I did not plan to go to college immediately after graduation. My parents could not afford to pay for my tuition because they were using a significant percentage of their income to help support the farm, but they made too much money for me to qualify for financial aid. As you are well aware, I have the farm-kid's terror of borrowing money, so I did not want to take out school loans. I decided to get a job and work my way through college.

Initially, I planned to study nursing, because my mother was a nurse, Annette's mother had a nursing degree and Annette was in nursing school. It seemed a natural and safe choice. I really did not like to be around sick people very much, however, so I was in no hurry to get started. Can you imagine me as a nurse? God have mercy on any poor schmuck who might ever have me for a care-giver!

Anyway, after high school I got a job working in a husband-and-wife law office. At first I was supposed to be a receptionist and file clerk. They quickly added duties because I caught on very quickly. I had all the makings of a cracker-jack legal secretary, and I liked that idea just fine. Nobody in my family had ever gone to college. I didn't need to go to college to be a legal secretary. I already was one. I thought I was set at least until I got married. I don't know how on earth I thought I would ever get married because I didn't know any guys my age and I never went anywhere to meet any, but in my world girls worked for a while until they got married, so I thought that's what I would do, too.

My bosses had other ideas about my future, however. He was both a lawyer and a CPA who did taxes, wills and probate work. She specialized in family law. She is still the best divorce lawyer I have ever met. She doesn't make enormous amounts of money, but she mediates marital disputes with amazing skill. In some ways she is more like a counselor or minister than a lawyer. She tries to keep marriages together. When that fails, she shows her fangs and goes for the jugular.

They turned me on to the idea of becoming a lawyer. Correction: they pushed, shoved, cajoled and badgered me into it. Since I still didn't have any other plans, I went along. Besides, I liked school and I really did want to go to college. Becoming a lawyer would get me out of becoming a nurse. It seemed like a win-win situation.

They let me adjust my work schedule around my classes while I was in undergrad school and the first year or so of law school. When it was time for me to get a job as a law clerk, instead of working at a big law firm, Marilyn got me a job in the office of a judge in common pleas court. I learned so much about civil procedure it was amazing. I learned that I did not want to do criminal or family law, but I did want to be a litigator. In that job, I got to watch a lot of courtroom goings-on both from the gallery and inside the judge's chambers. Even today I tend to draw on that experience when planning how to argue certain motions or how to handle difficult witnesses.

Annette started college in September right after high school and went to school full time. I didn't start undergrad school until the second quarter of that year and I only went to school part time. It took me almost a year longer to finish undergrad school. I did very well in college and was accepted to the law school at the University of Cincinnati.

The company my dad worked for offered scholarships to kids of employees. I applied for one of those scholarships and won it. The scholarship paid for all of my law school tuition. All I needed to pay for were my incidental expenses and books, which doesn't sound like much until you price legal text books. Fortunately, my bosses had a decent law library, and a lot of texts of their own. What is more their son had recently graduated from the law school at Ohio State. I managed to get away with borrowing a lot of my textbooks from them. With a scholarship paying the tuition and my bosses' help with books, I managed to go to law school full time and work only part time. As you might expect, going to law school full time and trying to work even a few hours a week put big crimp in my already non-existent social life.

By then, Annette was a nurse at Cincinnati General Hospital. I still officially lived at home, but she had a tiny studio apartment in Clifton near the hospital. Her apartment was only a few blocks from the law school, so I ended up sort of unofficially moving in with her at least during the week when I was essentially closing up the law library every night. I slept on the floor of Annette's apartment in a sleeping bag.

I went home on the weekends because Annette dated and partied a lot. She appeared to be making up for all the carousing she did not do in high school. I had neither the time nor the inclination for that kind of thing. I did not fault her her lifestyle. She never invited me to join her. I attributed that to her knowing I was too busy, but somewhere deep in me I felt that she didn't invite me to join her because she didn't want me to come along. It's very stupid and petty I know, but I was a little hurt by that slight. I'd like to have been invited to join her crowd at least occasionally. I've never said that out loud before. I don't like how it sounds. That doesn't make it any less true.

I met Christian Davis at the beginning of my second year of law school. Even before we met, I knew he was the son of a prominent local attorney. Since I was not really plugged into the politics of the legal community in Cincinnati or the society scene for that matter, I was too ignorant to be impressed by his pedigree. Frankly, even if I had known the details about his family I probably would not have been all that overwhelmed because "society" was (and is) an alien world to me, and, frankly, I'd be happy to keep it that way.

I did not know or care about his background, I simply thought Christian was a nice guy. He was quiet and polite. He was a very serious student, as was I. He should have gone into academia. He was and is an intellectual at heart. He never really had the heart of a litigator. He only pursued that avenue because it's what his father had done and his overbearing, demanding witch of a mother expected him to follow in his father's shoes whether they fit him or not.

Sometimes I think Christian and I are the only two lawyers in America who enjoyed law school. He loved the intellectual stimulation of trying to cram all that information into his head. I quite simply thrived on the competition. My limited experience at athletic competition in high school was sort of a disaster because I stink at sports, but it will come as no surprise to you that I was and am extremely competitive. I didn't really have much academic competition in high school or even undergrad school for that matter. I loved going head-to-head with really bright students and professors in law school. When I started law school, I set myself the goal of being on the law review. By the end of my first year, I had learned I wasn't a good enough writer for that, but I was competitive and fast on my feet. I got involved with moot court and, as they say, the rest was history. Apparently I was a natural born litigator.

When Christian and I met, he was ranked first in our class and I was a very close second. I was determined to beat him out for the top spot. He was determined not to let me. You would have thought that would have made us enemies, but it turned out to be more fun to compete with one another up close. Christian became my friend, but we were always competitors as well. In the end, we both ended up with nearly perfect grades. He beat me out for the top spot in the class by less than one GPA point based of some arcane formula wherein his work on the law review weighed more than my moot court victories. At the time, that seemed very important and I was very pissed off. Now it just seems silly. I think both of us did better in law school than either of us would have done without our "friendly" rivalry.

Christian was smarter, more stable and, it seemed to me, he had more marital potential than the interns Annette was dating at the time. It turns out I was apparently wrong on that latter point. Christian's career appears to be stalled – and maybe even destroyed – whereas most of those drunken, over-sexed interns Annette dated back then are now prominent doctors. Perhaps I should have butted out.

In any case, I introduced Christian and Annette to one another during the Christmas break of our second year of law school. They got married the following summer. Annette moved in with Christian at his very nice apartment. I sold my car and sub-leased her studio apartment. I thought I had gone to heaven. As much as I love my parents and their home in Colerain Township, having my own place was beyond wonderful, not only because it was close to the law school but because I felt it meant I had achieved some preliminary level of adult independence.

For the next several years my entire life was consumed with school and work.

I saw Annette a few times a week. Often I met her for breakfast at the hospital before the start of her shift. The food in the hospital cafeteria was not bad and it was very inexpensive. Most days that was the only hot meal I ate. About once a week, Annette and Christian invited me to their apartment for a home-cooked meal. On Sundays, I had dinner with Mom and Dad. Mom would load me up with enough leftovers to stave off the rickets until the following weekend. At that point in my life I had no interest in food or sex or anything other than working and studying. The people who loved me (basically that amounted to Mom and Annette) took care of me as best they could – with minimal cooperation from me, as they are both quick to point out.

Carly was born about a month after Christian and I graduated from law school. Christian's father had died some years before, and his mother had remarried and moved to Florida. Mrs. Davis had sold most of the land they owned and rented out the family home, ownership of which she turned over to Christian when she remarried. When the tenant's lease was up, Christian declined to renew it. He, Annette and Carly moved into his family home that summer. Christian had accepted a job at Friedman & Jostens but chose not to start work until September. He, Annette and Carly spent part of the summer with his mom in Florida. They spent the rest of the summer fixing up the house. Actually, Annette did most of the work herself. I helped in the evenings and on weekends. Christian's main contribution to the project was staying out of the way.

The common pleas court judge I clerked for liked me a lot and recommended me for a clerkship with one of the federal judges in the Southern District of Ohio after I graduated from law school. That was a wonderful experience. I worked there for a little more than a year. I loved the work and I really adored the judges. I would have spent my entire career there, but the chief judge for whom I worked was adamant that I needed to get some hands-on experience as a lawyer. I guess I have to say that I have been blessed with career-angels who have guided my career at critical junctures when I wasn't paying sufficient attention to my own future.

I think the judge called in a favor or two to get me an interview at Friedman & Jostens. They offered me a job that same day. Christian had already been there a year. I thought I would have to start at the bottom but they took me in as a second year associate and put me in the litigation department. I didn't realize at the time how small the legal community is and how many unseen hands were greasing the skids for me behind the scenes. All I knew was it seemed weird that I started somewhere besides at the very bottom.

I guess I was clueless or oblivious ... or, at least, incredibly naive.

Anyway, Christian was in the same department, although even by then it was obvious litigation was not a good fit for him. He should be a law professor, not a practicing attorney. He's just not suited to the rough and tumble of practice and certainly not litigation practice. He is from a prominent family; he's politically well connected. There has never been any question in anyone's mind, other than Christian's, that he was destined to be more of a rainmaker than a fee-generator.

He doesn't like that. His dad was reputed to be one of the best defense attorneys in Ohio in his day. Christian, at the insistence of his mother, always saw himself as following in his dad's footsteps. That was never going to pan out. From the very outset Christian had difficulty arguing even simple motions in front of judges who were inclined to be magnanimous. I can't imagine him actually trying a case. It has always been a source of frustration to him that the firm has never let him try his own cases. In point of fact, Christian couldn't try a case by himself if his life depended on it. He's about the only one around who doesn't know that. Or, maybe he does know it deep down, and that's his problem.

I think the genesis of Christian's animus towards me was over that very issue. Make no mistake. Christian and I are friends and we work well together, but even as clueless as I can be, I know his feelings for me are complex. I think those feelings include a lot of resentment. I hadn't been at the firm six months when I tried my first case. Granted it was a _pro bono_ case, but I specifically volunteered to do a lot of _pro bono_ work in order to gain experience. That meant I worked even more than the killer hours junior associates are normally required to work in order to keep up my billable hours and still handle the _pro bono_ work on the side. Since I had no other "life", I didn't mind.

The first case I tried was a slam dunk. A landlord had evicted a tenant without proper notice. The tenant was a young man who made his living designing and maintaining websites for small businesses. He worked out of his home and had all his computer equipment in his apartment. His mother was in hospice care someplace in West Virginia and he was called home suddenly when she was dying. He neglected to pay his rent before he left. His landlord put his stuff out on the sidewalk without jumping through all the proper eviction hoops. His belongings included thousands of dollars worth of computer equipment, which the kid needed to make his living. Naturally, it all disappeared. When he returned after burying his mother, he had no money, no place to live and no means of support, so he came to Legal Aid. He was a really nice kid. In other words, he was the perfect plaintiff: he was very sympathetic and he had the law totally on his side.

I was assigned to represent him. The landlord owned a lot of apartments in bad parts of town. He refused to settle the claim out of court on the theory that, if he settled with this kid, other evicted tenants would be more likely to sue. The landlord's attorney acknowledged they had no real legal defenses, but the landlord insisted on taking a hard line. The attorney more or less invited me to file suit, which I did. Nobody ever tried an easier case. Naturally, I won. The really good thing was that both the judge and the attorney for the landlord called the manager of the litigation department at F&J afterwards and told him I did a great job even though it was a bullshit case.

A few months later, they assigned me to work on a significant product liability matter. The billing attorney was a mid-level partner who was about the only person in our firm who did a significant amount of plaintiff's work. On account of that, he was kind of an outcast among the defense litigators, but he brought in money by the truckload, which, as you know from first-hand experience, will buy you a lot of leeway in business.

Our client was a woman who had been made infertile by one of those intrauterine contraception devices. She was very quiet and shy and she, understandably, did not feel comfortable talking about the negative consequences of her infertility with a bunch of male lawyers. From the beginning she clung to me. The partner gave me the responsibility for conducting in-depth interviews with her and shepherding her through the litigation process. I prepared her for her deposition, defended it and, amazingly, they let me conduct her direct examination at the trial. After her testimony, the partner told me he wanted me to do the closing argument. He had put on a magnificent case. We had put on all kinds of great experts and presented a lot of complex medical evidence. He said he thought he could hammer home the scientific points during the body of our case. He wanted the jury to hear a woman talk about the subject of the pain of infertility in the closing argument. I couldn't believe it.

As an aside, I have to say that after what we went through trying to conceive Melissa, I don't think I could ever make an argument like that again, at least not without breaking down and weeping hysterically in front of the jury, which wouldn't do my career any good.

In any case, I – a lowly junior associate – presented closing arguments in a significant case. I didn't get emotional or resort to any drama. I simply talked about what happened to the woman and the impact it had on her marriage and on the quality of her life. When I was finished, about half the jurors were in tears. The partner told me he even saw the bailiff wipe her eyes. The jury deliberated less than 45 minutes. They came back with a unanimous verdict in favor of our client and a damages award with more zeros than any of us had imagined. The actual damages were reduced on post-trial motions, but our firm ended up making a few million on that case.

I got a really nice bonus that year!

Even better, from my perspective, I was suddenly the hottest commodity in the litigation department. Since then, I have been second chair on a lot of cases. I've even been permitted to try a couple of small cases on my own. As a result, while still only an associate, I participated in more trials than a lot of the partners.

I don't think Christian has been inside a courtroom since the first time they let him attempt to argue a motion. He bungled it badly. He's a genius in the library. He can come up with crazy legal arguments and find cases to support them. He is personally responsible for a whole bunch of summary judgments that nobody ever thought would be granted because of his amazing creativity at coming up with brilliant legal argument based on solid legal research. He couldn't talk his way out of a parking ticket, but he is an amazing legal writer. Since writing is not my strong suit and I'd rather have a root canal that do the kind of legal research he does, plumbing the depths of case law for hours on end, I have always been impressed by Christian's brilliance.

I thought he and I made a perfect litigation team. He could come up with the ideas and do the research. I could try the cases. A lot of really top notch legal teams work like that on complicated litigation. I always hoped Christian would come around to teaming up with me. We would be a regular Dynamic Duo, I am absolutely convinced.

Unfortunately, I think Christian always saw himself as the "out front" guy. While I respect and appreciate the things he can do that I can't do, I think Christian grew resentful of my talents. It seems stupid to me, but I believe it to be true. I never allowed myself to acknowledge it because I somehow thought it would be egotistical of me to think that someone with Christian's breeding, background and manifold talents would be jealous of _me_. I may be a tiger in the courtroom, but at the end of the day when I take off my makeup and look in the mirror, I still see myself as that scared kid from the broken-down farm in Indiana. I know how far I have come and I never, ever take it for granted. I feel I have to prove myself every single day. Christian has always had a sense of entitlement and, until those early years at F&J, he had never tasted any kind of failure. When he came up against the barrier of his limitations as a litigator, he did not know how to handle it.

We were still good friends and great colleagues, but there was always an uncomfortable undercurrent. I didn't know what to do about it, so I ignored it.

My relationship with Annette changed, too. For one thing our lives were following different paths. She was a homemaker with a baby and soon another on the way. She was trying get used to being the wife of a lawyer, which generally means waiting until he decides to come home from work, hopefully (and rarely) before the kids' bedtime. She and I continued to see each other regularly, but our conversations were more about her life than anything else. Since I basically did not have much of a life outside of work, that seemed only natural. I assumed she heard all the scoop about F&J from Christian, so I usually just listened a lot when we got together.

I was surprised and disappointed to watch how Annette got caught up in the accumulation of material things. Recall that she grew up in a large family. Her dad worked at the General Electric plant. He was a union worker and, by my family's standards, he made a lot of money, but he had seven children to support. Annette was second from the last. She had grown up wearing nothing but hand-me-downs and sharing absolutely everything. Christian was an only child. He had inherited quite a lot of money from his father. He had a really nice house that was paid for. He was bringing home an amazing income, at least by Annette's standards. Annette started buying expensive clothes for both herself and the kids. She also got very, very carried away with home decorating. As it turned out she has a real flair for design and she has a lovely home to show for her efforts. Shopping became Annette's animating passion.

I sort of joined in the fun up to point. I had a few small student loans to pay off, but not as many as most young lawyers because I had worked my way through school and had benefited from the scholarship from dad's company. I still lived in the studio apartment in Clifton. By my standards, I was making a bloody fortune. My first year out of law school I made as much money as my parents' combined income for that year, and they had each been at their jobs for decades. I let Annette talk me into going with her on some clothes shopping expeditions. Mostly I bought very expensive suits for work because even as clueless as I can be about a lot of things, I knew that image is very important in the courtroom. Only later did I learn how important it is in the corridors of a law firm. In any case, I bought a lot of clothes for work. Annette bought everything she saw.

Clothes were my one extravagance. As far as everything else went, I was pretty frugal. I invested most of my income. I did not really plan on getting married. I saw myself as a career woman. To the extent I had a "goal" it was to sock away as much money as possible so I could retire in my fifties and then travel the world. If I wasn't able to save enough money to live on, I planned to run for a judicial office. I think I'd make a great judge.

I saved every dime I could spare, which – since I essentially had no life and very few expenses – was quite a large percentage of my income. My parents and Uncle Bob and Aunt Lil were by then supporting my grandparents almost completely. The family had sold off virtually all of the farmland, but kept the house for my grandparents to live in. I was making more money than all of them, so I offered to help, too. My parents rejected my offer, but my uncle was not so proud. Without my parents' knowledge he agreed to take money from me. I was proud to be in a position to help my family.

After both my grandparents died, my uncle wanted to buy the house, but didn't have the money for the down payment. I made him a gift of the down payment money and co-signed on the mortgage. My parents would kill my uncle if they knew he let me do that, but I was pleased to help him. He and I agreed that, in order to keep peace and for him to save face, we would not tell my parents. When Uncle Bob dies, the house will come to me. If my parents are still alive, I'll explain it to them at the time. They'll sputter and fuss, but I'll bet you any amount you want to name they'll ask if they can buy it and move back there. Even after all these years in Cincinnati, they both refer to the farm as "home". My answer will be that the house is not for sale, but they can live in for free it as long as they live.

While I was squirreling away every dime I could, Annette and Christian seemed determined to spend his entire inheritance as fast as possible. With a couple of kids to support, I thought they were foolish to spend the way they did. I never said anything to them because it wasn't my business, but I worried about them. I still do. They say that more marriages break up over money than anything. I worry about what will happen to them when the inheritance pot runs out and they have to start living on what Christian makes from the firm. I don't know exactly how much he makes, but I'm pretty sure it isn't enough to maintain their current lifestyle. Maybe that's a moot point, now.

Annette and I shopped together and went out to breakfast or dinner occasionally. She entertained me with stories about Carly and Becky. I never had much to tell her because I assumed she would have heard about the goings-on at F&J from Christian, and I still didn't have a life outside work. In any case, we sort of hung on to our friendship out of habit. I think it was almost an obsolete relationship even then because it was based on the girls we had been instead of the women we were. Neither of us had any other girlfriends, however, so it seemed natural to continue.

Soon, two really significant things happened very close in time. First, the old chairman of the litigation department retired and Ronald Henderson stepped up to that job. I had already worked with Ron on a number of cases. He has been my mentor and benefactor. As he rose in the department he had almost always treated me as his personal Number Two Lawyer. Even now, if anyone else in the department wants to use my services, they have to clear it with Ron. He loans me out regularly to other lawyers for their big cases. I've benefited enormously from that relationship, as you know. Ron gets a lot of mileage out of favors owed by others who "borrow" me. Because of Ron's influence, I have had the opportunity to work on some of the firms most significant litigated matters, with its top lawyers. Needless to say, Christian was apparently not very happy about my position in the department. I didn't realize until recently how deeply he resented it.

Also around that time, I met you. You know how you swept me off my feet from the very beginning. I have adored you from almost the day I literally ran into you in the parking lot of that Kroger's Supermarket. It still amazes me that you asked me out after what I did to your new car. You were different from any man I had ever met, not that I had a lot of experience with men, of course. You were sophisticated, smart, funny and worldly in ways that I admired, although I did think you were a little too impressed with your money.

Lawyers can often tend to be very one-dimensional people who know a lot about their legal specialty but not much about other things. There is no doubt that I fell into that category. Quit laughing!

You, on the other hand, had a variety of interests and you knew a lot about an amazing range of topics. You had traveled, both in this country and in Europe. You were the most cosmopolitan and sophisticated person I had ever met. I saw you as a kind of a Renaissance man. I loved that. I wanted to be like you.

But, more than that, I wanted to be with you.

You did not go over quite as well with the rest of the people in my life. My bosses and colleagues liked having the services of a workaholic associate with no interests outside of work. They weren't too keen on the idea of me getting a life.

My parents were very dubious about our relationship because you are so much older than I am and because you traveled so much. My mom admitted to me later that she thought you might be married. She thought that a catch like you was sort of too good to be true. You managed to win her over relatively quickly, perhaps in part because you made it known you wanted kids and she was very, very eager for me to get married and start popping out some grandchildren. Your efforts at sucking up to her were so obvious it was comical. Mom could see through it, too, but she thought that if you cared enough about me to campaign so hard for her approval, you must be okay.

Annette and Christian didn't like you, period. They gave me the usual arguments: "he's too old for you" and "how do you know what he does when he's on the road?" I refused to discuss those things with them. On the one hand, I didn't feel the need to. I assumed you would win them over the way you did my parents. And, if you didn't, then it was just too bad. Frankly, I never gave much consideration to their opinion of you at all. I didn't care whether they liked you or not. They weren't going to be with you. I was.

For some reason, I thought that I could continue my relationships with them in almost exactly the same way I had before whether or not they were friends with you. I know I could have done it and I always assume that anything I can do others can do, too.

Oh, stop laughing!

Yes, I know how self-absorbed that sounds, but I can't help it. I don't think I'm all that exceptional a person. I always assume that if I can do something, just about anyone can do it. I have the ability to be objective about my personal relationships – at least all the ones that do not involve you or Melissa – and I assume my friends and relatives can do the same. I know that makes me sound like a damned fool. It gets me into a lot of trouble, too, apparently.

Neither Annette nor Christian ever warmed up to you. Annette was often downright nasty to you, so I generally tried to keep you two apart. It was not hard most of the time. You are on the road four to five days a week. I simply confined my socializing with Annette and Christian to the days you were gone. That wasn't terribly difficult. Even before I met you I tended to let Christian and Annette have their weekends to themselves. I continued to do so after you and I got married. Your paths rarely crossed. That was fine with me. I guess you could say, I'm not very good at dealing with relationship complexities.

I said, stop laughing, dammit!

I had never dated very much, and most of the dates I did go on were total disasters. I can hardly ever remember a guy asking me out more than once. I never understood it, so I attributed it to my own lack of sophistication or sex appeal. I didn't obsess about it. There were other things in life besides marriage and family. I decided to focus on my career. I didn't need a man or a family in order to be happy. I was already very happy, and saw no reason that would change. I didn't feel as though I was missing out on anything important by not having a man in my life.

Falling in love with you changed everything. I couldn't marry you fast enough. I wanted to be with you every second of every day. Your travel schedule and my job prevent that, but I still want it. I sometimes fantasize about how wonderful it will be when we are retired and we can just sit around and adore each other all day long, every day. I know that sounds stupid and I know we'd be bored to tears after a few days of that, but I still let myself get carried away with those fantasies sometimes when work seems too hard or when you are too far away for too long.

Even after we got married, I still wasn't sure about the having kids part, but I knew you wanted children. Soon I did too.

This is very important. Listen to me. I know that everyone in my life except my mother (who never believed that it was possible for a woman not to want kids) thinks that I went through the ordeal of trying to conceive because you wanted a child so badly. They think it was some kind of sacrificial act I offered up for your benefit. That could not be further from the truth. By the time we decided to have a family, I wanted a baby with you as much as you wanted a child. Hear what I said. You came into the deal wanting to be a parent, period. I came late to that party.

Before I met you, I never really wanted kids. But, after we got married I wanted to bring your child into the world. Not for you and not even for me, but for the child who would be born out of so much love. I wanted that more than I have ever wanted anything. I wanted it enough to go through those two years of hell trying to make it happen. I never saw it as a sacrifice to your desire. For me it was a labor of love. Love for you, yes, but it also came out of the love I already had waiting in my heart for our child. Maybe that is why I took every miscarriage so hard. I already loved each of those babies from the moment they were conceived .....

Anyway, it is important for you to know that, despite what nearly everybody else thought, I did not go through that whole thing for your benefit. I love you a lot, but I'm not sure I love even you enough to have gone through that ordeal just because you wanted a baby.

In all fairness I have to say that Annette was my rock when we were going through _in vitro_ hell. After the first couple of miscarriages, I learned that you were as devastated as I was each time we lost a pregnancy. I didn't want to lean too heavily on you, thereby adding to your grief. I couldn't lean on Mom either because she was a similar wreck. Worse still, after the first few months when she saw the effect the hormones had on me, she kept insisting that we stop the treatments altogether. She would have preferred for us to adopt a baby. I never had the heart to tell her that we had already been down that road and learned we were ineligible for adoption due to our age difference and the fact that you travel all the time. I could never bring myself to even look into private adoption which has always struck me as too akin to baby-selling for my comfort.

Having nowhere else to turn, I leaned on Annette. She may not like you and she may have her faults, but she is a great mother. She understood a woman's desire to have a baby. She is both a mother and a nurse, so she also understood the medical and emotional aspects of the process. She was there for me every step of the way. She held me while I cried. She took care of me when I was sick from the hormones and she was my nurse and emotional rock after after each miscarriage. I will tell you now, there were a couple of miscarriages that came so quickly we didn't even tell you or Mom about them.

It was hard for me when she had Dylan right in the middle of my ordeal. Watching her belly grow and the soft glow in her eyes was very painful. Dylan was born shortly before what turned out to be my last miscarriage. I swear to God I wanted to die. Annette came over to take care of me after that miscarriage, but every time Dylan made a sound, I got hysterical again, so I sent Annette home.

Even so, I was so grateful for all her support I wanted to name our daughter after her. I was really mad at you when you refused to name Melissa after Annette. I guess I sort of held that against you, to be honest.

In a way, I felt that Annette and I sort of became "adult women" friends during that time. Perhaps I was wrong about that. Whatever else may have happened between us since then, I will always be unbelievably grateful she was there for me during the worst period of my life. I have overlooked a whole lot of her other faults for that reason alone.

It never occurred to me before, but I realize now she never, ever leaned on me for any personal issues she may have had. I don't know why. That makes me sad, because it makes me think that I was not a good enough friend for her to trust me. Or, maybe, she is just one of those Zinzinnati Chermans who refuses to ever admit they need help from anybody.

Anyway, after Melissa was born my relationships with both Christian and Annette changed. My career and, indeed, my entire life had been in a holding pattern for nearly two years of hormones, miscarriages and misery. Once Melissa was born, I sort of picked up my life and career where I left off. We had great child care. You traveled a lot, so I was able to work at home in the evenings. At first, I didn't notice any real difference in my relationship with Christian, but even I noticed a subtle shift in Annette's whole attitude toward not just me but towards life in general. We were both in our mid-thirties. We had wonderful (I thought) husbands, healthy and wonderful kids, nice homes. I thought she should be as blissfully happy as I was. Something told me she wasn't. But she never talked about it, and somehow she managed to let me know she wouldn't welcome me broaching the subject.

On the one hand, it might seem odd that she never said anything to me about what was going on with her and Christian. Most women talk to their best friend about their marriages, but I guess it makes sense that she didn't. From the beginning we didn't talk about the kinds of things most girls talked about: boys. We also never really opened up and shared our deepest personal feelings and stories like a lot of girlfriends do. With the sole exception of the times when her mom was dying and when you and I were trying to have a baby, we didn't talk about "feelings" kind of stuff at all. Even during those bad times we didn't talk very much; mostly we just held one another and cried a lot.

After she got married she never talked to me about Christian. I assumed it was because he and I were friends and colleagues. I rather agreed that it would not have been a good thing for me to know too much about their relationship. She never volunteered any information about that, and I never asked. By the same token I never talked about you or our relationship. I knew Annette didn't like you. Bragging about how wonderful you are would not have helped. Using her as a sounding board to bitch about the things that irritate me about you the way most women-friends do would only give her ammunition to use against you. I couldn't do that.

Don't look at me like that. Yes, there are things about you that irritate the hell out of me, but they pale beside your good qualities, so I've tried not to nag you about them.

When we visited, Annette and I sometimes talked about kids and recipes, dieting and exercise, makeup and clothes just like all women, but mostly we talked about books, current events and politics. Annette loves to read and she is very political. Since she never held a job outside the home and most of her social circle consists of wives of other attorneys in the firm who tend to be homemakers, many of whom are sort of society women, she never had a lot of outlet for her intellectual interests other than me. We talked about words and ideas. It was and is my favorite thing about our relationship.

I hate sitting around with a bunch of women bragging about kids and bitching about husbands. I can't stand the endless chatter about diets and exercise fads. In my experience the skinnier the woman, the more obsessive she is about calories. I can't tell you how many times I have been at social functions where I end up not eating anything because the steady stream of nutritional analysis of all the food by a couple of the junior partners wives made me lose my appetite completely.

I know it sounds totally crazy, but I understand completely how Annette and I could have been best friends since girlhood, talked to each other several times a week, and held long gabfests a couple of times a month without either of us knowing very much about the other's marriage.

I guess the same is true of my friendship with Christian. We hardly ever talked about Annette or about you. Mostly Christian and I talked about work. We worked in the litigation department together, but until recently we had never worked on the same cases. He spent most of his time working on complex corporate litigation, mostly doing research and thinking up all kinds of technical and brilliant legal arguments. I spent most of my time doing investigations and interviewing witnesses. I love investigation. I love interviewing witnesses and taking depositions. The only thing I like better is questioning a live witness on the stand in front of a jury. Christian spent most of his time in the library doing research. We bounced ideas off each other a lot.

When we weren't talking about work, we talked about kids, politics, or – if there were bunch of guys – the safest topic of all, sports. That was all well and good until we ended up in head-to-head competition for the same partnership.

My first awareness of the storm on the horizon came at Annette's Fourth of July party.

You pulled into the driveway and then backed up near the street to prevent another car from parking behind us and, thereby, preventing you from making a quick exit if it became necessary. I offered up a fervent hope that the only fireworks at that Fourth of July party would be those shot off by the volunteer firefighters from the top of a nearby hill. I prayed that Annette would be on her best behavior and would be nice to you. There were already several cars lined up in the driveway. I knew we would leave the party at the earliest possible opportunity. In fact, I suspected there was a good chance you would leave me there and come back for me later when I was ready to go home.

It irritated me, but I knew you and Annette never liked each other. To your credit, you had always been civil to Annette on those occasions when you could not avoid her. Annette had not always returned the favor. She was often openly hostile to you. As I said, I preferred to keep you two apart as much as possible. I love you both, but prefer to avoid the stress of having to deal with you together. Occasionally social situations called for the two of you to interact. I always tried to make sure there were plenty of other people around and even then you had my advance permission to bail out if you found Annette's behavior intolerable.

The only reason I asked you to attend the picnic that day was because it was not merely a social gathering. It was actually a work-related function. Christian had been drafted by the senior partnership to host a departmental picnic for the Fourth of July. All attorneys in the litigation department were expected to attend, with their families in tow. For those of us who were up for partnership it was a command performance. The latter group consisted of Christian and me plus one other guy who didn't have a prayer.

I was nervous about the party, but both you and Melissa promised to be on your best behavior although I know your feelings were hurt when I said that we needed to "act" like one very happy, perfectly wonderful family. That was a poor choice of words, and I'm sorry.

As soon as Annette opened the door and greeted us with hugs and kisses, Melissa disappeared into Dylan's room where the little girls congregated. Boy children gathered by the basketball hoop in the back yard.

The adult males already occupied the deck where there were coolers of beer and two televisions, one broadcasting major league baseball and another playing a car race from California. I notice that you took your time choosing a beer and selected a seat near the TV next to the husband of another woman in the department. You were both outsiders among the male attorneys. I knew you always tended to hang together. I guess the male attorneys made you "husbands" feel as uncomfortable and alien as the "wives" made me and the other female lawyers feel.

Having no other choice, I ventured into the kitchen where the women were gathered. As you know social functions are a trial for me under the best of circumstances. Social functions involving people I work with are the worst. The four women lawyers in the litigation department always end up in the kitchen with the "wives". Only a couple of the other wives work outside the home. The homemakers, including Annette, are all outstanding cooks (or, in the case of some of the senior partners' wives, they have great help). Their dishes are always fancy and elaborate. I felt like a heel with my artichoke dip and mac 'n' cheese, both of which were one-dish, easy-to-make items. The fancy dishes the other women brought made me feel inferior.

I would have preferred to go out to the deck with the men and hang out there. At any of our neighborhood social functions that is exactly what I would have done. That would have been an enormous _faux pas_ in that group and I knew it. The other women lawyers sat in a corner and talked to each other, occasionally glancing at the group of men on the porch, clearly wishing they had the guts to get up and join the men. The homemakers sat around the kitchen island and talked girl-talk. Typically, in those situations, Annette and I talked to each other.

On that occasion, since Annette was the hostess and I was her best friend, I was designated as her Number One Assistant. We have been doing that drill at parties for years. The fact that it was a company function for the firm where both Christian and I worked might have made it a bit awkward, but it was a role I stepped into automatically without thinking about it.

Firm gatherings always make me feel torn between loyalties. On the one hand, the lawyers are my colleagues, and I would have preferred to spend the afternoon shooting the bull with the men on the deck rather than making mommy-talk in the kitchen. Because of my friendship with Annette, I knew how hard most of the homemakers worked at managing their households, ferrying their kids from lesson to lesson and sporting events along with the charity work that was _de rigeur_ in their circles. In its own way, their work was as time-consuming, stressful and draining as the legal work attorneys do. I understood and respected that, but I didn't enjoy listening to homemakers talking shop any more than the wives liked to listen to the attorney's telling war stories.

Annette was exactly where she loved to be: in the center of it all. She had the entire party under control. Newly arrived dishes were smoothly transferred to refrigerator or oven, as appropriate, and drinks poured all but simultaneously. Annette loves to entertain and she is good at it. She presented herself as the perfect wife for an up-and-coming partner in the firm. That evening, sipping wine in Annette's kitchen, it crossed my mind for the first time what the ramifications might be for Christian and me to be competing for the same job. All other things being more or less equal, which I though they were at that point, I knew that, despite the fact that it was now the 21st Century every place else, at the firm of Friedman & Jostens, Annette gave Christian a big edge.

I had never intended to campaign for the position. I did not really intend to do so even at that point, but I had watched partnership decisions made in past years and I knew the drill. A certain amount of self-promotion would be required. I plastered on a big old artificial smile and proceeded to greet each of the "wives", in the order of their husbands' seniority. Then I spent a few minutes talking with the other women lawyers.

At one point Annette glanced my way, and I knew she'd just given me a reprieve. Today I think if she had it to do over again, she would not have done so, but Annette asked me to deliver the hors d'oeuvres tray to the men on the deck. I carried the tray out to the porch, took drink orders and lingered, chatting up the senior attorneys for a few minutes, but not too long to irritate either the wives or the women attorneys. I knew that taking on the role of serving the men was a gamble, but I felt it was worth it. Just before I ducked back into the kitchen I saw you wink very quickly. You understood exactly what I was up to.

I always found it odd that when I am with a mixed group of homemakers and working women, there is always an undercurrent of tension. I hate that. I think it is wrong and unfair, on both sides. I have always been at a loss to know how to deal with it. After a few minutes of misery, I did what I usually do at social functions: I ran away.

I decided to appoint myself the keeper of the kids. I took a tray containing a pitcher of fruit punch with some pretzels and dip to Dylan's room. There, I sat on the floor and attempted to join the girl-talk while the kids combed each others' hair and bitched about boys and the teachers at school. Soon most of the kids forgot I was a parent and started bitching about their parents as well. Disappearing into the world of kids had often been my refuge at parties. Soon I noticed a disapproving expression on Melissa's face.

After a little while Melissa crawled into my lap, put her head on my shoulder and whispered so no one else could hear her, "Mommy, this is kid's time. You are supposed to be with the other mommies." I wanted to throw a breath-holding, screaming tantrum if for no other reason than to prove that I did so belong with the kids. Instead, I poured the last of the punch and took the tray back to the kitchen knowing that Melissa needed her time with other kids outside of the hovering presence of her mother.

When she saw me coming back into the kitchen so soon, Annette raised her eyebrows. I whispered, "I got kicked out. Apparently Lissy has staked that out as the little-girl zone, and mommies are not particularly welcome."

Annette put her arm around my shoulder, "It was going to happen sometime."

I rested my head for a second on Annette's shoulder and swallowed hard, "I know. I guess I was just hoping it would not happen so soon."

One of the junior associates noticed that exchange, and asked with a certain level of amazement (since the "wives" and the "co-workers" of the male lawyers were not generally so chummy), "Are you two friends?"

Annette gave me a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek and said, "Oh, yes. Mary Jo and I have been friends since we were kids. Actually, we are more like sisters than mere friends."

Both the lawyers and the wives looked intrigued. I filled them in a little bit about how we met and became friends. I ended with, "I met Christian when I was in law school. The first day we met, we had lunch together. I knew before I was finished with my sandwich he would be perfect for Annette. At one point over the holidays that year, I invited him to have dinner with me and – ahem –, coincidentally, I invited Annette, too. They started dating and married within a few months. Christian and I are colleagues at work and we are friends outside of work, but Annette is my best friend and soul-sister."

One of the wives asked, "How did you meet your husband, MJ?"

Annette and I both laughed aloud. I told them, "I ran into him in a grocery store parking lot. Literally. I backed out of a parking space and ran into his car. It wasn't just any old car, either. He was on his way home from the dealership with a brand new Mercedes. I can laugh about it now. When he got out of his car that day, however, I thought he was going to kill me."

That was the icebreaker all the women needed. Both the lawyers and the homemakers fell to talking about the crazy ways they met their husbands. It was common ground. Annette poured more wine all around. We all relaxed a bit and started talking from the heart. I periodically refreshed the snacks and drinks for the men, who also appeared to be having a good time watching sports and talking trash. By the time dinner was ready, virtually everyone in the crowd was having a good time. The party ended up to be one of the best departmental social events in anyone's memory.

I was a little surprised that you stayed through dinner and did not seek me out and tell me you were ready to leave until after the first few couples had left. You offered to come back for me later, but I was ready to go, also. On the way home, I expressed my appreciation for your forbearance during the party, and I was a little surprised when you said, "Don't forget. I have an interest in you making partner, too."

I answered, "Somehow I fear that no matter what you and I did today, Christian and Annette now have the upper hand, at least for the moment. He and I were hired at the same time. I think we're bucking for the same position."

"Any chance they would promote both of you?"

"I doubt it. At least not in the same year. We'll both make partner. It's just a question of when. I am resigned to him being promoted before me."

Ever the reassuring husband, you said, "We're okay, whether you make partner or not."

I said something like, "You know, that is the one thing I have over all of the rest of them. They are consumed with the need to make it to the next level. I'm not. Maybe I'm not very ambitious. Maybe I'm lazy. You are very successful. I make plenty of money as an associate. We're doing just fine. It's very important to Christian and Annette that he make partner this year. I'm okay with waiting another year or two."

I remember you had a really odd look on your face when you asked me, "Does that mean you are going to lay down and let him take the promotion because Annette is your friend."

You were clearly happy with my response which was, "Hell, no! I am going after that partnership just as relentlessly as Christian. He may want it more than I do, but I do want it. Make no mistake. The good thing is that Christian and I were friends before going up for the partnership. I believe we will be friends afterwards, no matter which of us gets the promotion first. It would definitely not do my career any good if the partners think I'm not aggressive enough to go after the promotion."

You chuckled. "I hope this doesn't piss you off, but I have to say you are handling this whole thing like a guy."

I said, "Yes, that does kind of piss me off but I know what you mean. I'm trying to fight fair and be a good sport. That doesn't come naturally to me, as a woman. Women tend to fight dirty."

You laughed, "Don't I know it! I would not say this in front of any other woman in the world, mainly because in my job it would get me killed by stabbing in the jugular with a fingernail file, but I totally understand and agree with you."

The next morning I walked into the kitchen at the office just as Christian flipped the switch to make the first of many pots of coffee for the day. I waited with him while the coffee brewed and said, "Thanks for the party yesterday. You and Annette did a great job. I think everyone was very happy with the whole thing."

He paused, "You and I both know that I had nothing to do with any of that. Annette planned and carried off the entire thing by herself with absolutely no help from me. Actually, you helped her more than I did. I agree with you, though. It was perfect."

We were quiet for a while. We had known one another for years. We were colleagues and good friends. The fact that Annette and I were best friends usually did not intrude upon my relationship with Christian. Somehow, at that moment, it did. I smiled and patted his arm, "Sometimes it's hard for me to tell which one of us loves her more. I hope you let her know how much you appreciate what she did."

He grinned and said, "We each love her in our own way."

I felt tears stinging behind my eyes but I managed to quip, "I hope she appreciates how good she has it." He reacted to that with an odd look I could not decipher.

He looked around to make sure no one was looking and then patted my cheek. He said, "I was pleased to notice that Frank did not leave early. Have we made progress selling him on the good qualities of my wife or has he made friends with some of our lawyer buddies?"

I considered that for a minute and said, "To be honest, I think it was neither of those two things. I think he hung in there the whole time because he thought I expected him to be there for the benefit of my career."

Christian took a pack of bagels out of the fridge and laid half a bagel on each of two plates, added a tiny smear of cream cheese and handed one plate to me. "You mean because of the partnership decision?"

I nodded and took a bite of the bagel while impatiently jiggling the coffee pot to make the dripping stop.

He said, "Cut that out! It will be done when it is done. I wondered what was going on. Frank did not go out of his way to suck up to the partners, but he was slightly more talkative than usual."

I asked, "Are you talking about my husband?"

Christian laughed, "Well I suppose using the word 'talkative' in reference to Frank is a poor choice of words. What I meant was that he actually did say a few words at odd intervals during the day, which, for him, borders on loquacious.

"You know I've always found it odd that he's a salesman, but he is so unbelievably quiet. Most sales people I have known are very talkative."

I said, "Perhaps he usually can't get a word in edgewise amongst a gaggle of lawyers who all love to hear themselves talk.

"I noticed you had a baseball game on. I hope Frank said something other than, 'T'row the god-damned bastard out of the game and bring in a son of a bitch who can actually pitch!' or words to that effect."

Christian smiled and poured us both coffee. "He was on his best behavior. I didn't hear the word 'motherfucker' once in reference to the umpires."

"I'm pleased to hear that."

Christian grinned and winked, "Considering the fact that the game we were watching was between the New York Yankees and the Oakland A's, I was sweating it a little myself. I know how he feels about the Yankees."

I laughed and made a face, and imitated your standard line on the subject of the Yankees: "You mean those god-damned lousy SOBs who call themselves a fucking baseball team?"

Christian toasted me with his coffee, "Very good. Your Boston accent gets better all the time."

"Living with a transplant from Beantown is rubbing off. God help me."

While we were talking one of the litigation partners walked into the kitchen and said, "Excellent! I am glad you're together. We are putting together a team to work on a new very large matter. I would like you both to join us."

We grinned and gave each other thumbs up signals behind the other attorney's back. We had never worked together on the same case. I didn't know about Christian but I thought it would be a blast. I said, "Let us run fetch our pens and pads. We'll meet you in your office."

The partner shook his head. "No. We're gathering in the Board Room. Get your stuff and meet us there in ten minutes."

The rest of the day was a blur. The new case was a civil litigation matter involving several large corporations. It was just the kind of stuff I like: complex and convoluted. Only a few minutes after the partner and the general counsel of the main defendant began their presentation Christian and I were lost in taking notes.

We spent most of the morning listening to presentations by the client's general counsel and certain officers of the company who brought the legal team up to speed on the nature of the client's business and the background for the dispute. Then the billing partner reviewed the legal allegations in the lawsuit. Duties were divvied up. Research assignments were made. I was thrilled to learn that Christian and I were assigned to the team that would visit the client's offices and begin to gather documents and interview potential witnesses. I liked making site visits and interviewing potential witnesses. It helped me get an understanding of the client's business and helped me get a handle on the series of events that led to the dispute.

Christian grumbled about his assignment because he preferred more esoteric legal research to the nuts and bolts fact gathering. I poked him with my elbow and said, "Cheer up. This is the first chance we've ever had to work together. It may not involve all that complicated legal research you love, but you'll get to work with me!"

Christian made what I thought was supposed to be a humorous a face, laughed and said, "I guess that's something."

At the end of the day, I convinced Christian to go home early to spend some special time with Annette and the kids by way of thanks for the big boon they gave him with the party and before he got caught up in the new litigation.

The next morning I asked Christian if he had enjoyed his evening en famille. He grinned and said he had, although he was afraid his wife was mad at him.

"Why?"

He looked sheepish, "Well, I sort of fell asleep in the middle of the party."

I laughed, "Oh, geez. Is that all?" I said with exaggerated feigned shock, "I can't believe Annette would get mad about that. She knows how hard you work. Hell, maybe she was relieved. I think she probably works harder than you do."

He made a dismissive face and raised his eyebrows, "You can't be serious."

"I am dead serious. We work hard. But, I've heard a lot of stories about the way she spends her days. Believe me it's exhausting just listening."

He shook his head and changed the subject. He clearly did not believe me. I wanted to brain him. It made me mad that Christian (as well as virtually all other men and most working women) seemed to think that homemakers do not work hard. I am a working mom, but Annette was my best friend and I knew a lot about her life. Through Annette, I had met a number of other women who were full-time homemakers. I knew they all worked longer hours under just as much stress as I did ... and they all complained about husbands who came home from work and fell asleep on the couch while they were still cleaning up the kitchen from dinner and/or doing the last load of laundry of the day. Virtually all of them started their days before and ended their days after the rest of their family. I was pretty sure that Annette was not just irritated with Christian. She was probably furious. And, I thought, rightly so.

I thought that, in Annette's place, I would feel the same way. After spending all day taking care of the house, kids and making things nice for the husband, the least a wife should be able to expect would be a little appreciation, expressed by the husband's attention and affection. Appreciation, however, appears to be about the last thing a homemaker gets from husband, children or others in her world. I decided to arrange to have breakfast with Annette over the weekend. At least I could express my gratitude for her efforts, for whatever that might have been worth.

Christian and I changed the subject back to work, and continued to dig through the 18 boxes of documents the client had sent over. It was a daunting task, compounded by the knowledge that there were probably three times that many documents at the warehouse. We would have to review those as well. The warehouse documents were being scanned. Once we got those back and loaded into our database, I would round up a team of paralegals to review the documents.

After that, we would hit the road, visiting the client's offices.

In the meantime, we were reviewing the original paper files from the company's corporate offices. One page at a time. Approximately 50,000 pages. Just for starters. I was in heaven. For one thing, I am an investigator at heart. I love digging through other peoples' mail and files. I couldn't wait until we received the email from the company management. I knew I could learn a lot about our client's employees by reviewing their email. I loved reading correspondence and piecing together who did what and how the various employees worked together.

My enjoyment of the assignment was dampened somewhat by my awareness that Christian was miserable. He was happiest in the law library doing research. He was far and away the best researcher in the firm and every lawyer there had, at one time or another, requested his help in finding cases to support particularly difficult positions.

Our assignment was not something he was going to enjoy, although I understood why they had given it to him. This case was going to hang on the story told by these documents and the company's witnesses. It would be important for Christian to know the story intimately before going into the library to work his magic. I felt, however, the better use of everybody's time and skills would have been for me to lead the investigative team with the help of a bunch of junior associates and paralegals. We could give the story to Christian once we had completed the time-line. But, that decision was not up to me.

I happily dove into the project and reviewed twice as many documents as Christian and took three times as many notes.

At about 7:30 p. m., I stood up and stretched, "Sorry, buddy, but I have to bail on you. My road warrior husband is returning tonight from his latest successful campaign to beautify the women of America. Since Lissy is still out of town with my mother, we are seizing the opportunity to go out for a nice dinner at a restaurant with linen tablecloths and fresh flowers."

Christian smiled. "That sounds lovely. Where are you going?"

I shrugged, "I don't know and don't really care. Knowing us we will end up with a take out pizza and one of those wine-in-a-box things."

He said, "I hope it works out for you better than my date with Annette."

I laughed out loud, "I'm not expecting much. Last time Mom took Lissy, Frank picked up a really fancy dinner from some Japanese place. We decided to sit on the floor and eat at the coffee table. We sat down, and talked for a few minutes. I don't think either of us ate a bite. The next thing I knew it was 4:00 a. m. We both had fallen asleep sitting at the table. I got up and threw out the food. Frank looked so comfortable spread out on the floor cushions, I just threw a blanket over him and went to bed."

He howled, "You did not!"

"Did so. Frank and I are both really bad sleepers. We have trouble going to sleep. We have trouble staying asleep. One of our cardinal rules is that it is death to the spouse who wakes the other one. No matter where that person may have fallen asleep, it almost never okay to wake them. I fall asleep all the time in the car. We keep a quilt in the garage. Frank pulls in to the garage, covers me in the quilt and leaves me there. That is if it isn't too cold."

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, "I don't believe you."

I chuckled, "I'm telling the truth. And, so I am off for a wonderful, romantic date with my husband." I patted Christian on the head and said, "You, my friend, should go home, too. Sounds to me like you have some fence mending to do."

He made a shooing gesture with his hands.

I had taken the bus to work that day. You promised to pick me up on your way from the airport. You called my cell as I was turning off my computer. I picked it up with a smile, "Perfect timing. I am ready. I hope you are not calling from Chicago to tell me you're flight was canceled."

He laughed, "No. Actually, I am calling to tell you that my flight arrived early. I am in front of your building."

"I'm on my way."

We quickly decided to have dinner at our favorite Thai place which we thought would not be too crowded. As we drove to the restaurant, I called Mom to check in on Melissa. Melissa was having the time of her life being spoiled rotten by her grandmother and great aunt who were having the time of their lives doing the spoiling. Melissa said she missed us, but the joy in her voice gave lie to her words.

When I hung up you asked, "Does it hurt your feelings that she can go off for days like that and not miss us?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I think it means we're doing a good job. She's confident and she trusts her world. She's curious and wants to experience things. She loves us but she isn't one of those clingy, hand-holding, whining kids who can't do anything without their mother or father right there."

"Thank God for that. We would not be good parents for a kid like that."

I made a face, "Sometimes I wonder if we are good parents to the one we've got. Fortunately for us and for her, she is by temperament perfect for us. I think we were smart to quit while we were ahead."

You put your eyebrows together. You did not look at me because of the traffic, but I could tell that your entire being was focused on me when you said, "Do you really mean that? Are you sure you really didn't want more children."

I patted his knee, "Honestly. Truth of the matter is that I never wanted even one kid, or a husband for that matter. I'm thrilled that I have you and Lissy, but I am not pining away for more children. Do not sweat that."

You nodded and grinned. "You didn't want to get married? I never met any woman who admitted to not wanting to get married, except for a couple of corporate executive bitches whom I never really believed."

I nodded and made a face, "There but for the grace of God go I. To the extent I wanted anything, that's what I wanted: I wanted to be a lawyer. Husband. Children. Family. Friends. That all would have to come second to my career."

"Hmmm. Interesting. I have never felt that you put me or Lissy second."

I smiled and put my head on your shoulder, "That is because I don't. You and Lissy turned out to be a wonderful surprise. You taught me about love, and about balance. Falling in love with you taught me that it wasn't a question of either love or work, but that there was a way for me to love my job and to love you. What is even more wonderful is that we both love our jobs and we love each other and we still have plenty of love for Lissy too. It seems as though the more we love, the more love we have to give. I am so grateful for the gift of that understanding."

You took my hand and said, "I think that's true. I am not sure how we manage to balance all that out. Most of the people I know can't do that. I wish I could explain it."

I laughed, "If we could explain it, we could write the ultimate marriage how-to book and retire in the lap of luxury...."

"Which would probably bore us both to the point we'd fight with each other just for entertainment..."

I interjected, "... and end up getting divorced which would be bad publicity for the book."

As you drove, you filled me in on your trip, which had been a very successful launch for a new line of make-up. I asked, "You got any samples of that stuff? I heard some of the secretaries talking about it in the lunchroom the other day. The universal opinion among them was that this stuff is the greatest invention since lipstick. I would like to try it."

You jerked his thumb at your sample case in the back seat. "Help yourself. If you find a palette you like, let me know and I'll fix you up with what you need. That is odd. I don't think I've ever seen you wear makeup."

"I have never worn make up because for one thing it just takes too much time. I have always worked long hours and I don't have time to fuss with my looks. Maybe I'm freaked out about getting older, but I don't like how my skin looks lately. I don't plan to start wearing eye makeup and lipstick and all that crap. I just want something to even out my skin tones. Then again maybe it finally dawned on me that after being married to a cosmetics salesman all these years maybe I should not go around with my bare nekked face hanging out, looking like a skag."

He laughed, "You do not look like a skag, but your skin is beginning to show the effects of all the years you have been abusing it with soap and water. Soap! My God you must be the only woman in America who washes your face with the same soap you use on the rest of your body. It's disgusting."

I thought that was funny, but I was a little hurt. "Why do I get the feeling that you have been biting your tongue on this subject for a long time?"

"Because I have. There was no way I could bring up the subject without making it sound like I was criticizing you, and I would never want to hurt your feelings. I'm in the business of skin care. I spend thousands of hours a year demonstrating skin care products and make up. When I come home and look into the face I love more than any other, I just want to ..... well, slather it with moisturizer, to be honest."

That made me laugh. "You actually do facials? I thought you just did the sales pitches."

You made a weird face, "I do both. Part of the pitch is me actually demonstrating the product, on a live woman."

"Let's pick up a frozen pizza and a six-pack and then go home and play in your makeup box."

You grinned like a little kid, "Are you serious?"

"Unless of course you think it would be too much like work?"

"Not at all! It sounds like fun."

When we stopped at the supermarket for pizza and beer I was amused to notice that you picked up a bag of sponge makeup applicators and some make-up brushes. You are probably the only man I know who knows what that stuff is for, much less how to actually use it.

As I recall, we drank the beer but never got around to cooking the pizza. Instead we ate pretzels while you demonstrated the products that you said would help my skin look younger, smoother and more radiant. I agreed that when you finished my skin did look radiant, but I attributed that more to the beer and the gentle ministrations of my dear husband than to the actual products themselves.

I have always held the opinion that all those expensive products are probably not much better than the stuff I could get at the drugstore. Oh, don't get all offended. Your stuff is probably better than most.

Anyway, I luxuriated in the pleasure of your touch and your soft, loving voice explaining what you were doing. When you finished, I had to admit my skin felt great and looked good too.

I popped the top of a second beer for each of us and brought out some cheese to go with the pretzels. Then I poked around on the other side of your case where you kept the makeup. I was curious, "Do you do makeup demos too?"

You nodded.

I squinted my eyes, "Seems I have not heard a lot about that." It had never once occurred to me to be worried about what happened when you were on the road, notwithstanding the warnings I received from virtually everyone I knew. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to worry about it. I decided to test the edges a bit, however. "You do makeup for beautiful women?"

"Models."

"You apply it with a trowel?"

"If we're demonstrating evening makeup, I do."

I said softly, "But you also do, like, regular makeup for normal women?"

"Most of the time. I try to teach the ladies who work in the stores to do regular makeup for normal women. Unfortunately, most of the painted ladies who sell cosmetics in the stores are very bad advertising and even worse make-up artists."

I said, "I went to a one of those home sales makeup parties at Annette's once. I felt like a god-damned clown when they were finished with me. I got up and washed my face immediately – with hand soap. That pissed off the sales lady and I've never been invited to another makeup party. I know Annette used to have them regularly. She got free stuff by having the parties, but she never invited me again. I don't know if she still does that or not......"

You came up behind me and whispered, "Would you like me to do your makeup, too?"

I nodded but said, "Yes, but I want to look like me when you're finished and not somebody I don't know."

"I understand. That's the biggest misconception in the cosmetics industry. Most people put on makeup like it's theatrical makeup. It makes them look like someone else. It looks unnatural. The best makeup is the kind that is so subtle, it's almost unnoticeable."

"Show me."

You did. Oh, my God, that was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I think I remember every second of it. You were so gentle, so sure. You concentrated very intently, but I could see the kindness and pleasure in your face when you saw the results of your handiwork. When you finished, I looked in the mirror and said, "That's amazing. I look like me, only better."

You smiled and put your arms around me. "That's the point of make-up!"

I made a face, "The only thing is that I am not sure I want to devote an extra fifteen minutes every morning to that routine. It's hard enough for me to get out of the house on time as it is."

You pulled me down on your lap, "Here's the secret to that. Don't wear makeup every day. You have not been in the practice of wearing makeup to work. Use the skin care products every day. Only put on makeup when you want to and you have the time. If you use very subtle makeup it won't make such a huge difference from day to day. On special occasions when you want to do the whole glamor routine, I'll help you – and I think you'll blow people away."

"How'd you get so smart about women?"

You pulled my head down on your shoulder and said, "Devoting the last thirty years or so of my career to them, working with some incredible women who have shared a lot with me and spending all my work days focusing on women's looks which (although you may be surprised to hear it) is a big deal to most women."

"If you're so into that beauty stuff, why did you marry plain-jane me?"

"Because I think you are beautiful. When we met you had a fresh, natural face to go with the totally open, honest and sweet rest of you. When you told me you were a lawyer, I didn't want to believe you. I couldn't believe anyone as nice as you could actually be a lawyer."

I put my arms around you, "After eight years of marriage do you still think I'm that nice?"

"Well, despite the fact that I have learned that you are not as perfect as I thought at first, yes. I think you are just as nice and just as wonderful as when we first met."

"Even if I'm not as pretty as those models you travel with?"

"Who says you're not as pretty as them? To me you are beautiful because I see the inside of you. Most of the models I work with are either vain and nasty bitches or they are self-centered, damaged and needy people, which is even worse in my view."

"Do they ever hit on you?"

You laughed and lowered your voice, "Not any more. They used to, but the word is out among the women I work with that I am a one-woman man. For the most part the decent women respect that. And make no mistake, some of the models and corporate execs I work with are truly wonderful women. I'd love for you to meet them. I have no problems repelling any advances by those women who are low enough to try to test my faithfulness.

"What is more, I'm too old for most of them now. I've gotten older but the models are still in their twenties." You paused as if considering whether to continue, "My biggest problem frankly has always been with the men. They hit on me all the time."

I couldn't stop myself from giggling. You tried to look irritated by that, "It isn't funny. It is very awkward. Particularly since a lot of them are actually the clients. I am supposed to keep them happy, but even I have my limits."

Soon we found ourselves yawning between words. I said, "C'mon, show me the proper way to take this stuff off my face so we can go to bed." You handed me the face cleanser products which were clearly marked as to the order in which they were to be used.

Soon we snuggled under the covers. I asked softly if you wanted to make love, in all honestly hoping you would say no. You looked into my eyes and whispered, "Not unless you're burning for it. It has been a long day. I'm really tired. Besides....." You paused.

I held you closer and said softly, "Besides, it feels like we already did."

You kissed the top of my head and said, "That's because we did." It may have been weird, but I think that was the best love we ever made.

The next morning you were still in bed when I was ready to go to work. I kissed you awake and whispered, "Don't wake all the way up. I just want to say 'bye. Lissy will be home at 5:30. Please be here."

You rolled over and said, "Okay. I'll make dinner. What time will you be home?"

"7:30. I swear."

"Taking off early on a Friday?"

"I haven't seen Lissy for three days. I may be home earlier than that."

You laughed and mumbled into your pillow, "Yeah, right. I'll believe that when I see it. Get the hell out of here and let me sleep."

On my way to work, I called Annette from the car. I knew Christian would have left for work already and the kids would not be up yet. Annette was probably having her last cup of coffee before beginning her day. She was probably sneaking a smoke, too. I knew Annette still smoked, and regularly gave her hell about it, but I knew she would not quit unless Christian found out. I had occasionally considered ratting on her, but just could not make myself betray my friend.

Oh! I guess that's a significant point. Right?

We chatted for only a few minutes. Ours was a relationship that required a lot of face-time because neither of us likes to talk on the phone. Therefore, I got straight to the point. "Lissy has a ballet class early tomorrow. How about meeting me for breakfast while the rest of your gang sleeps in?"

Annette said, "Sure. That sounds great. We haven't had any girl-time together in a while. What time do you want me to meet you?"

"Lissy's class starts at 8:30 a. m. It lasts an hour, Frank will pick her up afterwards, so I'm at your disposal all morning."

Annette said. "I'll plan to meet you at Gordon's. I'll be there at 8:30. Get there when you can."

I worked through lunch and barely looked up all day. Christian and I had several boxes of documents spread out in a conference room. We were reviewing the client's files and working on a preliminary time line of events. It was tedious work and difficult because at that point we still did not have a really good understanding of the client's manufacturing processes, so some of the documents were very difficult to understand. This particular client made tires for race cars. I have always been fascinated by manufacturing processes, so I was thrilled with the assignment. Christian was not as pleased as I was, to put it mildly. I was frankly irritated by his constant stream of _sotto vocce_ bitching all day long.

At 6:00 p. m., I put down my pen and said, "I am packing it in. My daughter is coming home tonight from a trip with my mother. I'm going home to have dinner with my family before her bedtime. Sorry to bail on you."

Christian put down his pen and said he was going home, too. "We've been here since 7:00 a. m. with barely a bathroom break. I think the firm has extracted its pound of flesh from us today. I'm going to surprise my family by showing up for dinner as well."

I chuckled, "You might want to give Annette a heads up about that. If you just walk in the door before the kids go to bed she may pass out from the shock."

"Oh, shut up. It's bad enough I have to take that crap from her. You are just as bad about working too much as I am. It strikes me as a case of the pot calling the kettle black."

"I won't argue with you there. I'm trying to do better myself."

We walked to the elevator together. He said, "I hear that I am babysitting tomorrow morning while you kidnap my wife."

I made a face, "It makes me mad when I hear a parent refer to taking care of his or her own children as 'babysitting'. Babysitting is what you hire someone to do when you need help with child care. Parenting is what you do when you are taking care of your own kids."

He stopped in the middle of the hall and looked incredulous. "Are you serious? That seems so petty. But now that you mention it, I think it bothers Annette, too. It seems that every time she plans to go out and leave me with the kids, she ends up pissed off about something."

"Could be partly your referring to it as babysitting. Could be partly your grousing about doing it, whatever you may call it."

He slapped his hand against the Down button and said through gritted teeth, obviously struggling not to shout, "God dammit. I work hard. When I am not at work, I don't want to have to take care of the kids. That is Annette's responsibility."

I jammed the Down button again and the door slid open. I offered up a thankful prayer that we were alone. As soon as the doors closed I whirled on him and said, without particularly modulating my voice, "Get this straight. She works hard, too. She needs a break from time to time just like you do. If you don't want to spend time with your own kids, which frankly doesn't speak very well of you as a person or father, then crack open your wallet and hire an occasional babysitter or a part-time nanny to give your wife a break."

"Doesn't Frank give you a hard time about watching Melissa?"

"Hell, no. Frank loves spending time with her. He often takes her on outings without being asked. Sometimes, I get jealous of their closeness. By the same token, when we both have to be away, he often take responsibility for lining up the sitter so I don't have to worry about it."

Christian was not about to back down. "He has more time than I do."

I laughed, "Bullshit! The man travels a minimum of four days a week almost every week. Some weeks he is gone from Sunday until Friday evening. He works more than you and I combined."

"It's not the same. He sells make-up and wines and dines people for a living."

"I can't believe you would say that to me about my husband! You know, you are turning into the worst kind of snob. Frank may sell cosmetics and skin care products but he is responsible for millions of dollars in sales, and he has 300 people on his divisional payroll. Most of those people are married and/or have kids. The livelihoods of those families depend on Frank. His company may sell make-up, but he has just as much pressure – or more – in his job than we do."

"Oh, be serious."

"I am serious!"

"I don't see how you can equate what he does with what we do."

"You mean running the American marketing division of a multi-billion dollar international corporation versus working on commercial litigation where one company is suing another company over convoluted contractual minutia and the only people who are going to come out ahead are lawyers?"

"Why do you do it if you don't think it's important."

"I didn't say it isn't important. I totally love what I do and I think it's good and important work. What I am trying to get through to you is that other peoples' jobs are important, and stressful and tiring, too. Including my husband's. And Annette's."

"Annette doesn't have a job."

"Yes she does, god-dammit. She has the most important and, evidently, the least appreciated job around. She takes excellent care of your home and your children and she does a very good job of taking care of your sorry and ungrateful self, too."

By then we had reached the parking garage. Before I turned to go to my car, I got in his face and shook my keys at him, "I am having breakfast tomorrow with Annie. Don't you dare go home and either give her a sob story about how tired you are and how inconvenient it is for you to take care of your own children and cause her to cancel on me. If you do that, I'll come to your house for breakfast and then you'll have to deal with me sitting in your kitchen whenever you haul your ass out of bed."

He did not dignify that threat with a response. He merely walked away shaking his head.

I put the whole argument out of my mind during our special family dinner. I was thrilled to listen as Melissa gave us a blow-by-blow description of every minute of her days away with her grandmother and great aunt in Chicago. It had been a magical time for Melissa. I hoped she was old enough to remember it as she grew up. I, for one, would never forget that evening; she was beginning to grow up. The three of us spent a long time at the table talking.

I was touched that Melissa asked us about how we spent our days while she was gone. We each gave her a child-sized version of our week. After supper, we watched a movie together. Since you had spent some one-on-one time with Lissy before I got home, you offered to let me take over story-time and bed-time duty while you cleaned up the kitchen. We both knew you never clean the kitchen to my standards, but I welcomed the opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with her. It amounted to something of a sacrifice for you because I know how you treasure story-time with her on the nights you are home.

A little while later, when I came out of Lissy' bedroom, my anger from earlier flared again. You were half reading the paper and half dozing in the family room. I poured us each a drink and sat down next to you. I tried to read the paper, but I was too agitated. I know I kept fidgeting in my seat and flipping pages. You looked up at me over the corner of the section you were attempting to read and watched me for a few minutes. You made an amused face and put down the paper saying, "It is very obvious you are pissed off about something. Fortunately, I don't think you're mad at me or you wouldn't have brought me that drink. I suspect that was a bribe to get me to listen to a rant of some sort. Let's get it out of the way so I can finish the paper."

I thought about being mad at you for making fun of my agitation, but I can only be mad about one thing at a time. Instead of blasting you, I told you about my argument with Christian, ending with, "How can he love someone he respects so little?"

You smiled and put your arms around me. "For you love is about more than just the romantic stuff. It's about friendship, respect, partnership, and empathy not to mention humor. Without all of those things, you would never have married me or anybody else. For most people, love is not as complex. For a lot of men, love is all about what their wives can do for their comfort. For a lot of women, love is all about security. People will put up with a lot of bullshit from their mates so long as they get the main thing they need. You don't understand that because you do not need anything from me, or anybody else."

"I never thought Christian would be like that or I would never have introduced him to Annette. He treats me with respect. I can't believe he is so dismissive of Annette's role in their success."

"He treats you with respect because you are a lawyer, a colleague and a friend. Annette is just his wife."

"What does that mean?"

"It doesn't mean I agree with it. It means that is what he thinks."

"This is the 21st Century, for God's sake."

"Right. But most people are not as evolved as you are. Especially people like Christian."

"You never liked him. Why?."

You thought about that for a minute. "Actually, I've never previously formed much of an opinion of him. I've never taken enough of an interest in him to bother to like him or to dislike him."

"You mean because he totally identifies with his job, and doesn't have much of an interest in anything else."

"Exactly."

"Most of my colleagues, at least the male ones, are like that, aren't they?"

You nodded, "Most of the ones I have met. They have a very hard time carrying on a conversation with a non-lawyer. Fortunately, guys can usually manage to talk about sports. I have never even attempted to have a conversation with any of your female colleagues. I'm betting they can talk about sports, too."

"Are there people in your company who are like that?"

You thought about that for a while. "Yeah. I think most of the people at my level in the company are totally focused on their careers. Sales people don't have the luxury of being professional snobs like lawyers, doctors and engineers but we make up for it by making a lot of money. I should put in here somewhere that it is very hard on marriages. Most of the other people at my level in the company have either never been married or they are divorced. There are eight regional marketing directors right now. Only three of us are married. The other man is married for the third time. The woman is on her fifth husband.

"As for me, maybe if I were somewhere in the middle of the pack I would be more obsessed by success than I am right now. Since I am the top dog and have been for years, I don't sweat it much any more. I've more than accomplished what I set out to do. It seems to me that once you have everything you need, it seems pointless to obsess over getting more."

"What happens if some Young Turk comes along and tries to knock you off your throne?"

"That happens periodically. I have been challenged several times. Thus far I have always come out on top in the clash. Someday I won't win."

"And then?"

You hugged me and kissed the top of my head, "Then I will do what the mountain rams do. I will capitulate and leave the herd. I will roll over my 401K, take my company stock and come home to be Mr. Mom. I will let my wife, the Big Shot Lawyer who will probably be a partner by then, support me."

"And that would be okay with you?"

"Some days I fantasize about how wonderful it would be. I've proved my worth as a salesman. I know what I can do and I know what my limits are. I've gone as far as I can go in the company, at least in the U. S. Division. That is okay with me."

"How'd you get so smart or so content. "

"I married a really smart lady whom I love with all my heart and I do everything she tells me."

"Bullshit. That's sweet and all, but I'm still mad. It infuriates me to think that Christian thinks so little of his wife and his family."

"Christian is spoiled. His parents spoiled him as a child. They raised him to think that he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He did well in school and developed a sort of mythos about himself as successor to his father's position of Cincinnati's answer to William Jennings Bryan or somebody. He has carried that myth over into his personal life. He sees himself as an important lawyer. In his world, a wife's role is to take care of him and his children, inconveniencing him with family matters as little as possible. Frankly, I have to tell you I am disappointed to learn this about him. Given how close you are, I would have expected better of him."

"Me, too. That's why I am so pissed off."

"Annette may not be as pissed off as you."

"Why wouldn't she be? After all, she's the one whose job it is he is dissing so badly."

"She may not disagree with him as much as you think. They have a partnership which is different from ours. In our marriage, we both work hard at our jobs, we share responsibility for Lissy, we each honor and respect the work and sacrifices made by the other one. Their partnership is more of a traditional marriage, the kind the feminists like to refer to as a patriarchal marriage. Annette is mistress of the household; within the home her word is law. Christian is the paterfamilias whose work takes him out into the world. To the extent she needs a break, she should arrange for it and she should rely on someone other than Christian to give her support at home.

"As you point out, that isn't fair. It is, however, the way it is. My guess is the arrangement is more or less okay with Annette, as strange as that may seem to you."

"I'm still mad."

"You'll get over it."

I curled my feet up underneath me and said, "Okay, we'll move on from this subject in a minute, but I would like to ask you a question I've often wondered but never had the nerve to ask. Maybe I'm feeling a little bit brave right now. I would like to know why you don't like Annette."

You thought about that for a long time before you answered. I suspected even as you spoke that you were giving me the briefest and most sanitized version of the answer you could conjure up, and that it was so far from the whole story that it bordered on a lie. "I have always hoped you would not ask that question. I guess after eight years, you know me well enough to know that I'm not going to try to interfere with your friendship, so I'll answer it. First and foremost is the fact that she does not like me.

"I think you and Annette are like sisters in both the good and bad ways. You love each other like sisters, but I think there is also an element of sibling rivalry, at least on her part. She is as competitive as you are. It has probably never occurred to you to compete with her because you're out there competing with other folks all day every day, but I think she competed with you, maybe for a long time. She got married and started a family while you pursued a career. In her world, that made her more of a 'woman'. When you and I met, I was already very successful. You and Christian were just starting out in your careers. Christian was a young lawyer trying to get started in life. You married someone who was already financially secure and you still pursued your own career. You have to know that in our culture, working women are perceived to be smarter and more competent than homemakers. When you married me, you took a giant leap that put you back ahead of Annette."

"That's not true!"

"That is, to use a legal term you like to bandy about, irrelevant! You and I both know some very bright, competent and amazing homemakers. Annette is one of the best. I don't disagree that it is unfair and wrong to disrespect the work that women do in caring for their homes and families. It is, however, deeply ingrained in our culture, and Annette has, I think, come to believe it, for good and for ill."

"So you don't like Annette because she competes with me?"

"I don't like Annette because I have always had the impression she does not always look out as closely for your best interests as you do for hers. I guess I resent the fact that she feels free to be so nasty to me when you are not around. Maybe she was being protective of you at first. I understood that and expected it. I'm a lot older than you. I do a weird job that puts me on the road most of the time, traveling with beautiful women. I expected opposition from your friends and family at first. I can't imagine why she has kept it up all these years unless there is a darker motive to her actions. I admit that I could be unfair and wrong."

I put my head on your shoulder. "Uh-oh. TMI! I guess I'm ready to change the subject. I'm sorry to hear that she still takes pot shots at you when I'm not around. I wish I didn't know that because now I feel as though I have to do something about it."

"You don't."

I kissed you. "I know I don't _have_ to. I am quite sure you could more than handle her if you decided to do so. I am grateful that you have always been a gentleman despite her animus toward you. I have to say something to her because I can't let her believe that I think it is okay for her to be disrespectful to you. If she really loved me, she would understand that. You may be right that she has a dark side I have never been willing to look at."

"Maybe she's never showed it to you."

I snuggled closer. "Oh, yes, she has showed it to me on occasion. I have always conveniently blinked and looked away."

You held me in your arms for a long time until both of us were sure I did not need to cry.

While we were getting ready for bed, I said. "Oh, by the way, don't laugh after our conversation tonight, but I am having breakfast with Annette tomorrow. Can you pick Lissy up from dance class?"

"Sure. I'll take her to breakfast too. We'll catch up with you at home, say, mid afternoon sometime."

"Dear God, I am the luckiest women on the planet!"

You turned over and wrapped me in your arms, grinning, "What do you think have I been trying to tell you?"

The next morning I dropped Melissa at dance class and then drove to my favorite breakfast spot. Annette was already there drinking coffee and thumbing through the newspaper. The restaurant was very busy every day, but Saturday was the big day for families to eat out together. It was packed and very noisy. Annette seemed oblivious. I was annoyed by the noise and also by Annette's ability to tune it out, but I got over it the minute I tasted the fantastic coffee. A few minutes later the waitress brought me a plate of better-than-homemade pancakes with warm maple syrup. Somehow I managed to ignore the din around us as I delighted in the wonderful food and the opportunity to spend time with my sister-friend.

While we ate, we caught up on the kids, family news, gossip and chit-chat. When we had our fill of pancakes, the waitress brought us more coffee and left us alone. It was time to get down to some serious girl-talk.

I began, "I wanted to tell you how wonderful I thought your Fourth of July party was. Everyone had a great time. It has been the talk of the firm ever since. I think you may have put Christian on the top of the promotion list. You did a great job."

Annette cocked her head to the side, "Thanks, but I would think you would not be thrilled if Christian got the promotion ahead of you."

I shrugged, "Before yesterday I simply assumed he would get the promotion first and that was always okay with me. After the fight we had yesterday, I guess I have to admit there is a part of me that would like to get the promotion first just to show him that it is not okay to be such a chauvinist pig."

Annette's voice was strident when she said, "He is not a chauvinist. He did not tell me you had a falling out. I thought you two were best buds."

"We are best buds and best colleagues and all that other stuff. We had more than a falling out. We had a running argument through the halls of the firm that ended in a screaming fight in the parking garage. If we had both been guys, my guess is we'd have thrown a few punches. Frankly, I wanted to punch him. I am surprised he didn't tell you about it."

"Why would he tell me about an argument you two had at work?"

"I would have thought he would have told you since he knew we were meeting today and the fight was about you."

"How so?"

"Well, Christian was bitching about having to 'babysit' for the kids while you and I lolly-gag around here at breakfast. I let him have it with both barrels about how it isn't babysitting when a man is caring for his own children and his wife needs a break. We ended up in a screaming match about respect, prejudice and snobbery."

Annette looked across her coffee cup coldly and said, "So that was why he was in such a bad mood when he came in last night."

"I'm sorry if that caused your evening to be difficult."

"You have no idea. Christian is wound pretty tight these days. He is worked up about the promotion and he is very unhappy with his current litigation assignment. He's been a real bear lately."

"I'm sorry if I made things more difficult."

Annette shrugged, "You can't help it. You live in some kind of dream world where things are fair and people care about one another's welfare. I'll bet you went home last night and told Frank the whole story."

"Of course I did."

Annette snorted, "Of _course_ you did. Is there anything you two don't discuss?"

I paused for a long time and said in a low voice, "Until last night the one subject we never discussed was you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You and your long-running feud with Frank. You and your relationship with me. We have never discussed it before because I was afraid to open the subject."

"Afraid? Why?"

I concentrated intently on shredding a paper napkin into tiny strips and hesitated a long time before I answered. "I was afraid that if I opened the subject with Frank, I would have to address the situation with you, and I would rather not do that."

"Then don't."

"I have to. I know you don't like Frank. He told me last night why he thinks you don't like him. I am not entirely sure his opinion is correct or maybe he sanitized it to take the sting out. I would like to hear it from you."

Annette looked as though she wanted to run away. For a second I thought she was going to get up and leave. Then a very hard look came over Annette's face. She sat up straight and stared at me. "Are you sure you want to know?"

I wanted with all my heart to say no. Instead, I nodded.

Annette looked disappointed. I relaxed. She had been bluffing. Somehow I knew she was going to soft pedal the answer, if not lie outright. Annette said, "The first thing I didn't like about him was his age. He was then and still is way too old for you. On top of being old, he's kind of a troll. It creeps me out that you seem to find him attractive.

"The other thing I don't like about him is his job. What the hell kind of a man sells make-up? And, even if he is not exactly the most gorgeous man in the room, he makes ton of money and has access to the top people in the modeling world. I am sure that models are constantly throwing themselves at him. I can't believe he doesn't accept their offers from time to time. What man wouldn't? You deserve better than that.

"The last and maybe most important thing I don't like about him is his attitude. He is so superior, self-assured and he thinks he so god-damned smart about everything. He makes me feel as though he looks down on me." She looked at me with a strange expression, almost as though she expected me to challenge her answer.

I continued to shred the napkin into confetti. My wife's heart wanted to scream and cry and stamp my feet, defending your honor. My lawyer's brain was ticking off arguments. I was quiet for a long time. Eventually I said softly, "I'm not buying that as the real reason, or at least not the whole reason. I'll let it go because I don't think I want to know the rest.

"Out of loyalty to you both, I will say this. You are right, Frank is a lot older than me and he'd never win any prizes for his looks. But for some inexplicable reason, he loves me and, God knows, I love him. I've always thought that my looks match my plain-jane name, but he thinks I am beautiful. I love him so much that to me, he is always the most handsome man in the room.

"Yes, he has a strange job for a man. Someday I hope he decides to share with me the story of how he got into the cosmetics business in the first place.

"Yes, he travels a lot, which is a burden for me and Lissy.

"Yes, he travels around the country with beautiful models. I'm so clueless I did not know until this week that he actually does the facials and make-up demonstrations himself, which brings him into physical contact with them. I also did not know what a sensual experience that could be until the other night when he gave me a facial and did my make-up. He has always made it clear a lot of people make passes at him. He says he has been faithful to me. I have no reason not to believe him. Honesty has always been our strict policy.

"As for his superior attitude. I think I can understand how you might feel that way. He is very smart and he knows a lot about an unbelievable range of subjects. I suppose he can sometimes come across as a know-it-all. To be honest, that is one of the things I love most about him. He is like a walking encyclopedia. I happen to adore it, but I could see how it would rub other people the wrong way. I'll talk to him about that. I don't want him to intentionally irritate you.

"That said, I still think that there must be more to it. We have been married for eight years and you know how happy he makes me and how much I love him. I would think that as my friend you would have mellowed on the subject of Frank. He says you have not. In fact, he says that when I am not around you are openly hostile."

"He does, does he?"

"Yes. And I believe him. I know how you treat people you don't like. I have heard you make subtle digs and remarks that could be taken a couple of ways. You can be very cutting when you want to be. It's a side of you I've always preferred to avoid and to ignore. I know it is there, however. I would prefer if you would not turn that side of yourself loose on my husband."

"And you are so perfect you don't have any faults."

I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Of course I have faults and we both know it, but this conversation is about you and Frank. It is not about me. I can't make you like him, although for the life of me I cannot understand how you can still be hostile to him when you know how wonderful he is to me and to Lissy. I would think that you would take delight in what makes me happy. Obviously you don't, so I will say this: If you cannot stop yourself from feeling negatively toward my husband, I would ask you as my friend to please refrain from demonstrating your feelings to him. Avoid him altogether if you must. If you can't avoid him, at least please treat him with civility, for my sake."

Annette waved her hand in front of my face, "I already try to avoid him. I will try harder to make nice when I have to be in his magnificent presence."

We were quiet for a while. In a way, I think our relationship hung in the balance of that conversation.

After a few minutes, Annette said, "While we are on this subject, I would like to ask you not to talk to Christian about me. I know that you are colleagues at work and you are friends. I would like to think that you two could find enough things to discuss without talking about me or our family. You say things that upset Christian. You make him think that I would agree with you. Your conversations with him about me and my life are creating a problem in my marriage and I would like you to stop.

"I want us to remain friends, but I think it would be best if we left our husbands totally out of our friendship. That means I will avoid Frank. You can't avoid Christian, but I think you should avoid talking to him about his home life. We have never really talked about our husbands, and I think we should go back to that."

I totally agreed. "Yes. I think that's a good solution. The only disagreements you and I have ever had have been on the subject of my husband. The only disagreements Christian and I have ever had have been on the subject of you. Banning those subjects should go a long way toward keeping the peace all the way around. I'm willing to try it, anyway."

I added, "I do want to ask one question before we leave this subject: Are you happy?"

Annette made a face, "Most of the time I am. I'm not happy when Christian comes home from work angry and upset like he did last night and accusing me of holding all kinds of opinions I do not have. Other than that, I guess I'm as happy as I could expect to be."

She paused and continued, "Do I wake up in the mornings with a smile on my face eager to face the adventures of the new day? No. Do I catch my breath and melt when I hear my husband's voice on the phone? No. Maybe I don't live my life with the all-out passion that you do, but I think I do a good job and I am proud of my family and the way I manage my household."

I responded from the heart, "As well you should be. That, by the way, was what the argument with Christian was about. I told him I thought your job was every bit as difficult and stressful as ours and that I thought you were doing a fabulous job. I told him I thought he should give you a little more respect."

Annette's laugh had a slightly bitter edge to it. "You must be the only professional woman in America who really believes that. Please don't ever tell me what Christian said in response to your tirade. Thank you for watching my back like that but, in the future, let me and Christian work that out between us."

"Okay."

Annette waited while I paid the bill. As we walked out to our cars, Annette asked, "Would you really be okay if Christian gets promoted before you?"

"Sure. I'll get there eventually."

"Do you think you could let the partners know that?"

I thought about that for a few minutes. I knew the partnership was a huge deal to Christian and to Annette. Until the day before if any of the partners had asked me which one of us should go first, I would probably have suggested they promote Christian first. After our argument and my conversation with you, I changed my mind. Christian was acting too big for his britches. He was heading for a crash if he was not careful. I realized, also, that my own promotion might be in jeopardy if I were seen to defer to him. Accepting the fact of his being promoted first with grace would be one thing. Affirmatively letting him go first would be something that could easily backfire.

After a very long pause. I said, "If Christian is promoted before me, I will be happy for his success. For the sake of my own career, however, I can't run the risk of doing anything that might give the appearance of deferring to him or pushing him ahead of me. That would be seen as a sign of weakness or at least feminine deference to male dominance, which would be even worse. That would torpedo my career faster than almost anything I can think of."

"But you won't do anything to go after the promotion?"

I shook her head and grinned. I patted Annette's arm, "I have never openly campaigned for the promotion. I do not intend to start now. One of us will get promoted this year. The other will get promoted next year. We are both only 35. We have plenty of time."

Annette nodded, "I know. But, this promotion has Christian wound very tight."

"I am fully aware of that, and if he does not lighten up he is going to blow it. I don't know how or if you can get that message through to him, but you should try."

We hugged for a long time at the car. I felt like crying. I said, "You know, I think one of the things that has damaged our relationship is that we have gotten so busy with our families and jobs that we haven't taken time for 'us'. I know that each of us will always put our husbands and kids first in our lives. That is as it should be. But our friendship predated our marriages and kids. Maybe since I am married to a man who is twenty years older than me I have always expected our friendship to still be there when the marriage isn't. I need to believe that. Do you think we could plan to get together, just the two of us, say, once a month or so? It would give you a break, and give us a chance to reconnect."

Annette held me tight and said, "That is a really good idea. I'll hire a babysitter one day a month. Do you think you could arrange an afternoon off during the week, or will we have to do Saturday mornings?"

"I'll find time during the week. I don't want either of us to have to give up our precious weekend family time. God knows, I am selfish about my time with Frank on the weekends. I could probably take off early one afternoon a month. Let's get a massage and then go out for a late lunch."

Annette smiled. "That sounds like pure heaven."

We hugged again, kissed cheeks and got in our cars to go home to our husbands. I felt better about my relationship with Annette than I had in years. We had tackled subjects we had avoided at least since my marriage. Maybe we had not plumbed the depths of our feelings, but we were not that kind of women. We made what I considered to be a reasonable compromise.

A couple of weeks later the partner in charge of the X-Tech case called Christian and me into his office to tell us he was sending us to Denver to interview employees and gather more documents from one of the client's subsidiary corporations. Christian was thrilled. As the firm's resident egg-head researcher, he had never previously been asked to travel. This was a first for him and he thought it was cool even if it was to continue the investigative work that he hated.

I went into a tail-spin. You were on the road at least four days out of every week. I was the designated "at home" parent. We had a nanny, but she did not live in. Overnight trips for me posed a serious challenge. I somehow managed to hide my panic from the partner but I could tell that Christian understood what I was feeling. Worse, I noticed that he seemed to rather enjoy my discomfiture. That pissed me off and I made up my mind to figure something out pronto.

When I got back to my office, I called Grace and asked if there would be any way she could spend the following week with Lissy including staying overnight to allow me to make the trip. I told her that we would make it worth her while, but before setting an actual number to the increase in pay for the week I wanted to talk to you. She agreed immediately, saying she knew we would be fair about the compensation. She asked if it it would be okay for her to bring her dog with her for the week. She promised the dog would behave. I did not hesitate to say yes.

After that I called you and caught you at the airport somewhere between flights. I told you about my trip the following week. You asked if I had spoken to Grace. I told you the outcome of that conversation. You laughed, "You know Lissy has been wanting a dog. If we let Grace's dog visit for a week, we're probably going to be on the hook for buying one of our own."

"Don't remind me. It may be a small price to pay. Maybe Lissy needs a dog."

"Yeah, but we don't."

I floated a suggestion. "What if we invite Grace to live in and bring her dog?"

After a long pause you said, "Do you anticipate making more trips?"

"'fraid so. This client has subsidiaries all over the world. The case is turning out to be much bigger than anybody thought at the beginning. I am pretty sure this trip is not an isolated event."

"Then we need to get Grace – or somebody – on board right away. We can't have you going into a panic every time they want you to take a trip, scrambling around trying to cobble together child care."

"You mean I can't be like most other working mothers?"

"Not when we have the resources to have a live-in nanny. I'll talk to Grace about the details when I get home. Frankly, I think she'll like the idea. She has been taking a lot of on-line college classes, but she also has been going to night school. I think letting her live with us would give her more time to study. We could make a studio apartment out of that loft over the garage if she doesn't want to live in the house."

"I like the apartment idea. That will preserve everybody's privacy. She can sleep in the guest room when we are both on the road but she'll have her own place when we are home. God, I love how easily we make decisions. Thank you for understanding."

"Maybe I understand better than you do. I think this is a test. They know I travel. They are testing your commitment to your job."

"You're probably right about that. What I don't understand is why they are sending Christian. It would be better use of everybody's time to send me with a team of paralegals or junior associates for this job."

You said softly, "Mary Jo, you can be so naive sometimes it scare me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they don't understand your friendship with Christian. They are throwing the two of you together in order to find out what is up with you. My guess is that everybody in the firm is pretty convinced there is something going on between the two of you. They are going to throw you together at every opportunity to try to trip you up."

I wanted to protest, but I realized you were probably right. You went on, "You two have known each other for years. You are very good friends. Your affection shows. A lot of people don't believe that men and women can be platonic friends. People talk. As a matter of fact, even as little I have been around the folks in your firm, I can tell you I have heard some hair-curling stuff. Not about you, but gossip."

I was too taken aback to speak. You asked, "You still there?"

"Yes. I'm here. I'm trying to digest what you just said. In my heart I know you are right. I am trying not to run out in the halls and scream. Instead I will pretend we have not had this conversation until later when I can rant and rave in private. Do you suppose Christian knows what they think?"

"I don't think you want to know my opinion of that."

"Probably not, but tell me anyway."

"I think Christian knows about it. He benefits if it is true. He gets to be the macho man with the wife at home and the smart lawyer-lady mistress. I don't think that he would have done anything to foster the rumors, but it is in his best interest not to go out of his way to stop them."

"I, however, would be the slut who cheats on her husband with her best friend's spouse."

"Pretty much."

"Do you think people who know me actually believe that?"

You hesitated. You hate to hurt me but always speak the truth to me. "Maybe not people who know you well, but it's a big firm. How many people there are you really close to? How many people really know your heart?"

"Christian and Alicia."

"Exactly so. You might want to have a private conversation with Alicia."

"I'll take her to lunch today. God, I miss you. I can't wait to see you."

"I'll be home this evening. I'll put in an order for Chinese."

"Lovely. I'll be home by 7:30. I swear."

I glanced at the clock. It was 10:30. I buzzed Alicia. "Do you have plans for lunch today?"

"No. Do you need me to work through? I'll order us sandwiches if you do."

"Actually, what I had in mind was the two of us going out for lunch."

She didn't respond immediately. After a long moment she stammered, "Oh? Um. Well, sure."

I smiled into the phone. I knew I should do that kind of thing more often. "Oh, and by the way. Christian and I have to go to Denver on Monday of next week returning on Friday. Would you work with his assistant on the travel plans."

"Where do you want to stay?"

"I don't care. Someplace close to the client's offices. I'll send you the address."

"You want to travel together?"

"Whatever makes sense. We should arrive close enough together that we should only rent one car. My preference would be to fly out early on Monday. Christian may prefer to go out Sunday afternoon. You and his assistant can work that out. Get me a refundable ticket. If there is half a chance for me to come back on Thursday, I want to be able to take it."

"Understood. Let's see. Mr. Bennett is. Hey, Mr. Bennett is in Las Vegas next week. You two might want to talk about meeting up at the end of the week, if you could work that out with your nanny."

"What a great idea! Since when did you start keeping track of Frank's travel schedule?"

"He has been keeping me informed of his whereabouts for years. I try not to schedule evening meetings for you when he is on the road... which is pretty much all the time. I hope you are not going to have to start traveling a lot. What are you going to do about child-care?"

"I guess we'll invite the nanny to live in."

Alicia laughed.

I asked, "What's so funny."

Alicia paused and said softly, "My guess is that what is so funny will be one of the things we will be talking about at lunch."

I laughed, "You have been in this business way too long, Mrs. Gonzalez."

After a moment, Alicia said, "Long enough to be of use to you right about now, Mrs. Bennett."

"You might want to reschedule my 2:00 conference call and don't clock out. This may be a very long business lunch."

My lunch with Alicia turned out to be an eye-opening experience for me. Alicia had worked as a legal secretary for the firm for twenty five years, since graduating from high school. She wasn't the oldest but she had the longest tenure of any secretary in the firm and she knew where all the bones were buried. She had previously been the secretary to the managing partner. When he retired, she was assigned to take on a mid-level partner and me, a very junior associate. The fact that I rated such a top notch secretary could have been the luck of the draw, but it also could have been a vote of confidence. Since there were no coincidences in the firm, most people had regarded it as the latter. I, of course, had been oblivious.

Alicia is a magnificent secretary. She also has an enormous network in the legal community; she knows everything that goes on at Friedman & Jostens as well as most other firms in town. Since I took no interest in the firm gossip or political maneuvering, Alicia had never previously opened up to me about what she knew. Even so, Alicia had been watching my back as best she could. I take it she shared some of that information with you on a regular basis. Once I opened the door, Alicia returned the favor and told me a whole lot more about the behind-the-scenes activities than I ever wanted to know.

Alicia affirmed your theory that it was more or less universally believed in the firm that Christian and I had been having an affair for years. It was also believed that you were a very wealthy person and I was just dabbling in the law and was not very serious about my career. Both of those "beliefs" gave Christian the professional edge. On the other hand, everybody recognized I was a much harder worker, generally a much better lawyer (except for the esoteric research thing) and was much more personable than Christian. According to Alicia people liked me better than they liked Christian. Even the people who thought I was cheating on my own spouse with my best friend's husband liked me better than they liked Christian.

Alicia warned me that one test they were going to give me would be to prove that I was committed to my career. I could expect to be working like a first year associate for a few months. And I could expect to be on the road a lot.

The second test would be to prove my personal integrity. Probably most of my travel would be with Christian. My expenses and my whereabouts every moment would be under intense scrutiny.

I wanted to cry by the end of that lunch with Alicia, but she just patted my hand and said, "Maybe in the long run this is a good thing. It is an opportunity for you to show that there is not now and has never been anything untoward between you and Christian. There are a few people who have always believed that. You can help your cause a lot by letting more people in on the details of your relationship. The party at Christian's house helped you a lot. People learned about your preexisting relationship and very special friendship with his wife. They also saw how you are with your husband. That was a very good thing. You might want to consider a couple of things. One would be a 'wife' function where you could open up again with the wives.

"Another might be a couples thing where people could see you and Mr. Bennett together. If the partners had a chance to spend even a short time with the two of you together, it should go light years toward dispelling any notion that you could even look at anyone besides Mr. Bennett."

I asked, "What does that mean?"

"It means that when you and Mr. Bennett are together it is very obvious how much you love each other. Neither of you is a candidate for adultery, despite what he does for a living or your closeness with Christian."

"You're sure about that?"

Alicia laughed, "Dead certain. If Christian and his wife were present it would be even better because people would understand that you and Mrs. Davis are very close as well. Let's see, the firm's golf outing and picnic are coming up at the end of the summer. I know you and Mr. Bennett usually do not attend that function. It might be a good idea if you would make an exception this year. Since you and Christian are both up for partnership, you'll probably be seated at dinner with some of the senior partners. I can probably get you and Mr. Bennett to be seated along with Christian and Mrs. Davis at the table with the managing partner."

That sounded about as much fun as childbirth. I made a face, "Oh, goody-goody. Doesn't that sound like such a blast?!"

Alicia grinned but then looked at me like a stern old librarian and said, "This is not about having fun. This is about career survival for you."

That surprised me, "You mean it is that big a deal?"

"MJ, this is make-or-break time for your career. If you blow this, there won't be a second chance. They might still make you a partner eventually, but you would always be tainted as potentially untrustworthy on a number of levels. You'd be dead in the water."

By then I was blinking back tears. I didn't respond for fear I would start to cry.

Alicia patted my hand and said, "It is okay to cry in front of me, but don't ever cry in front of anyone else at F&J. Starting right now and until the partnership announcement is made at the end of the summer, you need to pretend you are a brand new associate. You need to eat, sleep and breathe your job. You need to be able to travel whenever and wherever they send you on a moment's notice, no matter what else may be going on in your life."

I considered the ramifications of that and muttered, "That is, if I really want it."

Alicia nodded, "That's right. It's yours if you want it. I know that to be true. What you have to do is prove to them that you want it and that they can trust your integrity."

I put my hands in front of my face, but I didn't cry. I whispered, "You know, the irony is that there has never been any doubt in my mind about my integrity or my trustworthiness. What is more, until this moment, I wanted to make partner. Right now, I feel so ... I don't know. I feel dirty because others think I'm a whore. I feel angry that all of this has gone on behind my back without anyone confronting me. Most of all, I feel pissed off and I sort of want to tell them to go to hell. Partnership be damned."

Alicia smiled, "All of which are totally natural reactions. The thing you don't want to do is go off half cocked until you decide for sure what you want."

"You are right. The question is, do I still want it?"

"That is the $64,000 question. You and Mr. Bennett should get your heads together quickly and figure out the answer to that one. Once you do, I'll do everything I can to help you if you decide you still want the partnership."

"Why?"

Alicia hesitated for a long time and fiddled with her silver ware. "Because I believe in you. I have watched you since you first came to the firm. You have been a star from the beginning. You got the attention of the senior partners very early. Your relationship with Christian was a big question mark. I like you. I like Mr. Bennett. I have never liked or trusted Christian. When Mr. Jostens retired, I asked to be assigned as your secretary. I wanted to help you."

"I don't think you answered the question, 'why'."

"Do I need a reason beyond the fact that you are a smart, competent and hard-working attorney who treats the support staff with respect?"

"I guess I'll settle for that. Thank you for your support and encouragement."

Alicia grinned, "Oh, I get something out of it too, you know. I like being the assistant to big shot partners. I like the bonuses and perks. I like knowing all the dirt. I'll support you and push you and do what I can to help you. I'm not doing it totally for altruistic motives, I assure you."

"Good. That means I can really trust you."

"Yes, ma'am. You can."

The next day, Alicia sent Christian and me an email outlining our travel plans. Christian would fly to Denver on Sunday evening by his choice. He would rent a car. I would fly out on Monday morning and take a cab to the client's office. We were staying at the same hotel, and returning on the same flight late on Thursday evening. That would give us Friday in the office to type up our notes, read our mail and do the rest of our week's worth of work in one day.

Christian and I had not resolved the issues raised in our argument. We were strained and formal with each other when we were alone, but years of friendship and collegiality allowed us to work together as an efficient and effective team. Christian groused about the nature of the assignment, but we got the job done.

Your meetings in Las Vegas were over on Tuesday and you had managed to book a couple of meetings in Denver for Wednesday and Thursday. That gave you the opportunity to spend a couple of nights with me in Denver. We split the cost of the hotel room between our two employers, which made points with both accounting departments. You booked a seat on the Thursday evening flight with Christian and me.

The firm had scheduled a wrap-up meeting with the client's senior staff on Thursday. Several senior partners and a number of executives from the client company were on the same plane with with us. Without ever once crossing the line of propriety, you and I made it very clear that we are completely devoted to one another. I did everything but stand up and announce that, while Christian might be my friend and valued colleague, you are the sun around whom my world revolves.

You are, you know.

You were magnificent. For one thing, you uncharacteristically opened up a bit and talked to a few of the attorneys while we were waiting for the plane. You were candid about the fact that, while you traveled with beautiful women all the time, you are a devoted husband and father. You made it clear that you believed me to be similarly devoted. Sort of as an added bonus you sort of made it a point to broadcast how proud you were of my professional success. That was kind of unnecessary, but sweet.

By the time the plane landed, the scales had shifted in my favor and Christian was one unhappy fellow.

In the ensuing weeks Christian and I went on several evidence gathering trips. Whenever possible, you arranged your travel to cross paths with us at some point. The other attorneys on the team came to understand that Christian and I were not, in fact, having an affair. We were good friends and excellent colleagues, but that was it. Frankly, I think there was still some tension between me and Christian left over from our argument which helped as well. That change in perception inured to my benefit partly because it meant I wasn't a two-timing slut and partly because it, in some twisted way, emasculated Christian.

The following Monday morning, when Alicia delivered my mail from the week before, she closed the door behind her and sat down in the guest chair. I looked up from my computer, surprised. Alicia never did that. The first thing that crossed my mind was that she was quitting. I all but held my breath.
Alicia broke into a huge grin. I know she knew exactly what I was thinking and was pleased to know that I would be devastated by her departure. She recovered quickly and was all business when she said, "I want to give you a report on the scuttlebutt."

"OK."

"I think the tide has turned in your favor. For one thing, people now understand how it is with you and Mr. Bennett."

"Meaning?"

Alicia laughed, "Don't tell me you don't know what I mean. One look at the two of you together and even someone who doesn't know either of you can tell you are totally devoted to one another. What is even better, I understand, is that you and Christian apparently behave exactly the same way toward one another when Mr. Bennett is around as you do when he is not. The theory is – correct or not (although it does make intuitive sense) – if you and Christian were fooling around, you would not be so chummy with one another in the presence of your husband. For there to be no change whatsoever in your demeanor or behavior when your husband is present is interpreted as meaning you have nothing to hide."

I laughed, "I'm not sure that necessarily follows. Seems to me that if Christian and I were carrying on a long-time affair under the noses of our spouses and my very best friend, we would have to be such shameless assholes, we might not bother to change our behavior in front of our spouses."

Alicia pursed her lips and scrunched up her forehead, "You might not want to broadcast that theory. It would screw up all the progress you have made.

"In any case, you have redeemed yourself from being the firm slut. You are now seen as a devoted wife and mother. By the way, the attorneys on the team really like your husband even if they think what he does for a living is kind of unusual and he is not very talkative. You always were better liked than Christian. There has never been any question that you are a better lawyer and you are light years ahead of Christian when it comes to dealing with the clients.

"Bottom line is, you are almost there, MJ."

"Thanks for the update. What do you mean I'm a better lawyer? I thought Christian was the smart one who can come up with brilliant legal arguments and find supporting case law that no one else can find."

"That's true. Everybody stands in awe of him for that. He'd make partner because of that alone. He'll be the kind of egg-head 'thinker' the firm will put on its big cases to sit around and ponder the ramifications of this or that legal theory. Lord knows, attorneys like that are good to have around. The problem is they are not particularly good at client relations nor are they very productive. You put out a lot more work per billable hour than Christian does. You always have. While efficiency is not exactly the number one goal around here, clients do want to see attorneys who can show a some results for all the money they pay the firm."

I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind my head. I smiled for a second and then turned serious, "What impact does this have on Christian?"

Alicia straightened her skirt and fiddled with the sheaf of papers she was holding. "Well, I think the jury is still out on that. I guess on the one hand, you have redeemed yourself in the integrity department except for one little thing that kind of hurts Christian. The word is – true or not – that you were clueless about the rumors. The general opinion is that as soon as you found out about them, you immediately launched your current campaign of showing off your wonderful marriage. It is believed that Christian knew about the rumors for a long time and did nothing, perhaps because he thought the situation benefited him. Which, frankly, I think it did."

I pursed my lips and looked at the ceiling, "So ye old double standard raises its head."

"In a manner of speaking. Anyway, both of you are better off for the fact that people understand you are not a lying cheater. You gain more by moving to stop the rumors as soon as you knew about them."

"How do people know that I did not know."

Alicia laughed out loud. "MJ, you have been at this firm for going on ten years. This place, like most law firms and a lot of employers generally, is a regular Peyton Place. The gossip mill runs full out all the time. You have never once participated in the gossip, either by passing it on or listening to it. You have always been totally clueless about all the dirt that goes on. In all honesty, people sort of joke about St. Mary Jo, The Innocent. Frankly, I think that is a good thing. Knowing what I do about your innocence and pure heart, I believe if you knew half of the crap that goes on here, you would quit."

"Doesn't my Pollyanna-like cluelessness count against me?"

"Actually, no. Even people who are as addicted to gossip and fornication as some of the folks in this firm admire those who are truly above all that."

"Is Christian dead in the water, then?"

"Oh, he'll still make partner. He may even make partner this year ahead of you. The jury is still out on that. You may have to wait a year, but there is no doubt they have much bigger plans for you than they do for Christian. My guess is that you can expect some administrative assignments. I hear they are considering grooming you for manager of the litigation department. In that regard, you should know that Mark Kellen plans to resign as the attorney in charge of paralegals at the next partnership meeting. You may want to think about how to respond when they offer you that job."

I laughed, "Oh my God, you think if I went into Christian's office right now, stripped naked and draped myself across his lap it would help avoid that?"

Alicia laughed, "Probably not. You know that job goes to a senior associate who can get rid of it a year or so after they make partner. Nobody wants it, but somebody has to do it. We have never had a woman in the role. Since all of our paralegals but one are women, that might help."

I sighed, "I doubt it. I think that might make things worse. I do not have a very good relationship with most of the paralegals. I barely know the women who work in probate and tax. I actively dislike most of the litigation paralegals I have had the misfortune to work with."

"Then you are even, because they are not too fond of you either. You have some fences to mend with some of those gals. I should not need to remind even you that a couple of the more senior paralegals have the ear of a few of the senior partners. You would do well to make nice with them."

"This is my next big challenge, right?"

Alicia nodded. "Do you watch Survivor?"

I shook my head, "No, but I understand the concept." I sighed. "Anyway, thanks for letting me know how I'm doing. Anything else going on around here that I need to know about?"

Alicia hesitated, "Actually, there is something you need to know about. It sounds like gossip, but I believe it to be true. It may have an enormous impact on the firm."

"What?"

Alicia sighed, "Well, you know that Mr. Sanderson is the billing partner for Happy Giant Home Products. The firm has that account because Mr. Sanderson's older brother is CEO of Happy Giant. Word is (both here and out on the streets; I have checked with others in some of my professional associations) that the two Mr. Sandersons are engaged in a very serious family feud. There are several versions regarding what the fight is about, but the bottom line is that there is a huge rupture between them. Word is that Happy Giant is looking for a new law firm."

"Oh my God! That client represents millions of dollars annually to this firm."

"Right. If we lose Happy Giant, every employee in this firm, from the senior rainmaker to the receptionist, is going to have to hit the streets to drum up business in order to replace the lost income."

"Thanks." I laughed, "Hey, if I can land a big client you think I can weasel out of the paralegal administrator position?"

Alicia grinned and stood to leave, "It couldn't hurt."

I turned back to my computer and became lost in my work for several hours. At noon, Paul Richards, one of the junior partners on the X-Tech case, appeared at my door, "You want to get some lunch, MJ?"

I looked up, startled. "Is it lunchtime? Geez. I do lose track of the time! Sure, I'm starved."

As we walked to the elevator it occurred to me that I could not remember the last time I had lunch with another attorney in the firm besides Christian except for departmental lunch meetings. I realized that no one had ever invited me to lunch because they thought Christian and I used our lunch hours for .... I decided not to think about what people thought we did on our lunch hour.

For my part, I never invited others to lunch because I rarely even ate lunch except when Christian dragged me out of my office.

On the way down in the elevator, Paul asked, "What do you want for lunch?"

I said, "Do you like Thai food?"

He made a face, "Ew. No. Too spicy."

"Not everything there is spicy. Second alternative, how about the Middle Eastern place across from the courthouse?"

He shook his head, and said, "I'm sort of a burgers and fries kind of guy."

It was my turn to make a face, "Okay, then. How about Thelma's diner."

"I've never been there. Where is it?"

I shook my head. How the hell could he not know that place if he liked burgers? "Come on. If you like burgers, you are in for a treat. The atmosphere isn't much, but the food is top notch."

The diner had been operating in the same location for more than fifty years. The original Thelma had retired years before. Her granddaughter ran the place. She had recently remodeled but had stuck with the retro look of a 1950's diner. I always feel like I am walking onto the set of Happy Days when I eat there.

Paul obviously was on the same wavelength. As we sat down he asked, "Is the Fonz going to join us?"

I giggled, "You never know. Put down the menu. You want burgers and fries. Order a Number 2, that's a cheeseburger, loaded, with fries and cole slaw. I'm told it's to die for."

"You don't eat burgers?"

"I don't eat meat at all."

The waitress walked up to the table, looked at Paul and then asked me, "Where's Christian?"

I laughed and said, "You know, I'm embarrassed to say, I didn't event think about asking him to join us. This is Paul. He's another attorney working with us. He's also a burger hound like Christian. You think you can fix him up?"

The waitress made a face, "Sure can! You want your usual?"

I nodded.

Paul laughed. "You come here often?"

I wobbled my hand from side to side, "Often enough. It's Christian's favorite spot for lunch. I prefer places where I can get actual vegetarian food. They do their best to accommodate me here and I appreciate it, but I prefer more exotic food."

We chatted for a while about the case. I had learned at the Fourth of July party that his wife was pregnant. I calculated the baby should be due soon and asked about that. He shrugged and said, "Yeah. She's due next week. They plan to deliver the baby next Friday if she does not go into labor before that. She's had a tough pregnancy."

"Do you have other kids?"

"No. This is our first. It's been a hell of a nine months for my wife. I have to confess, I have lots of mixed feelings about the coming years for me."

I smiled, "That's probably very common. I was terrified by the prospect of parenthood. Frank really wanted a baby. My pregnancy wasn't too difficult, but when they put Melissa in my arms, I remember wondering what in the world I was going to do with her. I was so not cut out to be a mom. I was terrified."

He asked, "And how has it panned out?"

I smiled and spread my hands, palms up, "It's too soon to tell. She is only five. I can say one thing, the love she has brought into my life has made the effort totally worth it. If I had to do it all over again, I for sure would. Being a mom doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to, say, Annette (Christian's wife). She's like the original earth mother. I'm not the kind of mom who bakes cookies and is a Brownie troop leader. Lissy and I talk a lot. We do things as a family. Lissy and Frank spend a lot of time together; he's the more parental one. I guess what I lack in maternal skills I make up for in giving her a stable, loving home and a father who is the most wonderful human being on the planet. "

He laughed, "You still feel that way after being married how long?"

"Eight years. Frank and I got married right after I came to work at F&J."

"Are still that much in love or are you just campaigning?"

"What?"

"Look, MJ, everybody knows that you and Christian are each mounting your own campaigns for the partnership position. You two have been so joined at the hip for so long, nobody had any clue you could operate independently. It has been quite amusing, I've got to tell you."

I tried to keep my face expressionless and not show the anger that was building, "I am glad to have provided some entertainment. God knows things can be pretty boring around F&J. So what is up? Why this meeting?"

"Actually, it's mostly a social lunch. You can probably expect a lot of them in the near future. Turns out most of the attorneys in the firm barely know you. The quality of your work is outstanding. We want to get to know how you personally might fit into the partnership."

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to blast him. Fortunately, the waitress delivered lunch and chatted for a few minutes. That gave me the time I needed to breathe deeply and calm down. Paul was distracted by the fantastic hamburger. He looked at my lunch of macaroni and cheese, baked beans and corn bread with something like disgust. I wanted to smash a plate over his head.

Finally, when I felt I had gained enough control to speak without sounding like Al Pacino in _Scarface_ , I said, "To answer your question, yes, after eight years of marriage, I still love Frank as much as I did the day I married him. He is not only my husband, he is my best friend, confident, mentor and lover. As for campaigning for the partnership, I don't think I am doing that at all. I am simply doing my job to the best of my ability, which is no more or no less than I ever did. The fact that my work and my personal life are under such intense scrutiny now has not changed who I am or how I behave in any way whatsoever. The fact that Frank has recently been more visible is simply because I have been traveling for the first time. Frank travels all the time. It is only natural we should meet up on the road when we can."

He looked at me for a long time while he chewed his food. He wiped his mouth and smiled, "You know, amazingly, I believe that. You may be the only person in the history of the firm who has not actively campaigned for partnership. That may not help you, though. The partners like to see candidates dance a little."

I put down my fork and leaned forward. I said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper but which vibrated with anger, "If that is what they want, you can tell them to go ahead and give the job to Christian now and get it over with. Here's the bottom line. I want the job. This year. Next year. The year after. If I don't get it in three years, I'll know I'm not wanted and I'll leave the firm.

"I want to be promoted based on my skills as a lawyer and my personal character and integrity, which I feel I demonstrate on a day-to-day basis year in and year out. I don't feel the need or the desire to do anything different during the run-up to the vote on the new partners. I assure you I will not 'dance' for the job. I trust that the question of my personal integrity has been settled." I noticed he flushed slightly. "Beyond that, the decision should hinge on my legal skills. I believe those are adequate as well. To my mind, the question before the partnership is which of us will be promoted this year. I would assume the other can expect to be promoted next year."

He munched on a French fry and nodded, "I think that about sizes it up. The question is what factors should we take into consideration?"

"How about legal skills and contribution to the profitability of the firm?"

"If those are the only factors, you're in hands down."

"So what's the problem?"

He fidgeted in his seat and avoided my gaze. Suddenly it was clear to me what the conversation was about. I was not about to make it easy on him. I waited for an answer which he obviously did not want to give me. I proceeded to eat my lunch in silence, waiting for him to answer.

Finally he said, "Do you want to know the truth?"

I simply raised my eyebrows without answering. No way was I going to help him.

"Here's the thing. Christian has a family and his wife does not work. How many kids does he have?"

"Three girls."

"Your husband is very successful. You only have the one child."

I looked at him with what I hoped was a completely blank stare and said, "So?"

"Don't you think that should be a consideration?"

I took a bite of my cornbread and thought about it. In my heart I knew that I would be perfectly okay with letting Christian go first for all of those very reasons. I also knew the promotion was much more emotionally important to Christian than it was to me. I really would not mind waiting another year in order to give Christian and Annette a much-needed financial boost. The partners apparently wanted my permission to do just that.

I saw two immediate problems with my giving explicit consent. One was that they were considering making the promotion based on illegal discriminatory reasons. They wanted me to waive my right to make an issue of that. I was not particularly interested in letting them off the hook. While I personally wouldn't mind letting Christian go first, I could not condone discriminatory actions if for no other reason than out of consideration for all the other women employees at the firm.

The second reason I hesitated was that I believed that if I deferred to Christian, I would forever after be seen as weak. It might not prevent me from getting the partnership next year, but it would probably take me off the track toward a managerial role, which, having thought a lot about it, I had decided was the direction in which I wanted to move.

I finished chewing and said, "I want to think about this before I answer. I'll get back to you."

He looked shocked. I somehow knew that I had just eliminated the last of the lingering suspicion about me and Christian. I think they had expected me to let Christian go first without hesitating. What I tried to hide from him was the guilty feeling that I was somehow stepping on Christian's toes in standing up for myself. I wondered for a moment if it would not be better for me simply to look for another job. The thoughts were all so confusing and conflicting I knew that before I said another word on the subject, I needed to talk to you. I probably also needed to talk to Annette and Christian.

When I got back to the office, I sent you an email briefly summarizing the issue and asking you to call me when you had a minute. A few minutes later I received a terse response from your Blackberry, "Agree you can't defer. Think you shd talk to Xn ... and maybe A. Tied up rest of afternoon. Will call u 2nite."

I dove back into my work for the rest of the day. At 7:30, I went to Christian's office to discuss the situation with him. He was still at his desk. I asked, "What time are you planning to knock off?"

He looked at the clock on his computer. "I told Annette I'd be home right about now."

I shook my head. Christian was totally oblivious to the impact of his complete lack of any sense of time on his family. He could be so unbelievably inconsiderate of Annette, and the kids! I knew Annette would be angry, and rightly so. I started to suggest that we pick up a pizza and take it to his house as a peace offering ... when he blew me away by saying, "Seems like your dinner last night with Annette went well. She came home in a really good mood. You should do that more often."

I had not seen or talked to Annette in several days.

I stood up and walked out of his office saying over my shoulder, "You need to pack up and go home, now." I totally forgot why I had sought him out in the first place.

I drove home in an emotional fog. You were out of town. Melissa was at a friend's overnight birthday party. Grace was studying in the garage loft apartment we had created for her. Ordinarily when I found myself troubled and alone, my first inclination was to call Annette. Annette was the last person I wanted to talk to at that point. Instead I ate a container of yogurt and ran on the treadmill until you called.

You didn't call until about 10:00 p. m. and I was exhausted from running but no less upset. We chatted for a few minutes about your day. I told you about my lunch meeting with Paul. You were not quite as upset by it as I was. You thought I had played it absolutely right. You were firm in your opinion I should stick to the position that the firm should make the decision based solely on professional qualifications, partly because that gave me the edge, but mostly because it was the right (not to mention legal) thing to do.

I interrupted you in mid-sentence, blurting out what Christian had said about Annette lying about having dinner with me the previous evening.

I thought it was odd that you did not respond. I asked, "What do you make of that?"

You said, "I will tell you what I think if you promise not to yell at me."

"Why would I yell?"

"Because you are not going to like what I have to say."

"Which is what?"

You paused for a long time and then blurted, "Annette is having an affair. I don't know if she is sleeping with the guy, but she is definitely seeing someone."

"What? Who? How do you know?" The words poured out in a torrent, my voice rose to a squeak and trembled.

"Calm down. Breathe." You waited a minute. "I am sorry I didn't tell you this before. I have never kept a secret from you, and I shouldn't have kept this one. I couldn't bring myself to tell you, because I knew how much it would upset you."

"Tell me now, please." The pitch of my voice had lowered back almost to normal, but it still trembled.

"A couple of weeks ago, while you were in Seattle, I hosted a regional meeting in Cincy. Our field reps came in from all over the country. We did the usual wine-and-dine routine, with lots of after dinner schmoozing. One evening a few people wanted to go to a jazz club downtown. Apparently the band was fairly well known and had a wide following. Since you weren't home and it was already past Lissy's bedtime, I decided to go with them. We had a fairly large group and they put us way in the back of the club. I guess they thought we would be noisy and you know how jazz clubs are about people who talk during the music...

"Anyway, I was squeezed in a corner in the back, with a good view of the entire room. I don't think anyone could have seen me unless they were right in front of me. The music was great. I was actually having a wonderful time, and I stayed a lot later than I usually do at such outings. At one point, I saw Annette and a man other than Christian come in together. The hostess seated them at a table near the front. I could see their silhouettes clearly against the stage lights. It was not simply a night out with a friend: It was a date."

"Oh, Frank, don't be ridiculous. She was probably doing the same thing you were doing. Going out with a friend."

"I go out with a lot of female colleagues, clients and friends. I don't hold hands, whisper in their ear or kiss them." He paused for effect, and continued once my sputtering and swearing died down.

"Annette did not see me when she came in and I left soon afterwards, making it a point to stay out of sight. On my way out I asked a waitress about the two of them. She told me they had been coming into the place occasionally for several weeks. I asked how she could be sure, and she told me they they usually only had one drink and he was a lousy tipper. She told me the wait staff could not figure out why they kept coming back given that they always got the worst table and virtually no service. I asked her why she thought they came back. She shrugged and waved her arm around the room, 'Look around. Half the people here are music fans who come to listen to hot bands. The other half are cheating on their spouses and they come here because it is very dark.'"

I exhaled noisily. I did not realize I had been holding my breath. "Ironic, isn't it? So many people thinking that Christian was cheating on her when it is really the other way around. He has a lot of faults, but he has never looked at another woman since he married Annette."

You chuckled deep in your throat, "Oh, really?"

"What do you mean by that? I happen to be in a position to know that he has never been unfaithful to her, regardless of what people may have thought about him and me."

"That is not the same thing. He wasn't having an affair with you. That doesn't mean that he never fooled around with anyone else Moreover, I think you are naive to think that his feelings for you were always so pure and platonic."

She sighed, "I suppose most men think about it from time to time with a lot of women. The important thing is that Christian never actually acted on those thoughts. ... and now Annette ..."

Frank interjected, "The fact that Christian has never behaved improperly toward you has more to do with you than with him."

"What does that mean?"

"Sweetheart, have you ever really noticed the way he looks at you?"

"Oh, Frank, don't go there. I've been listening to that crap at work for weeks now. I can't believe you would ..."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. I heard what you said and I take your meaning. I just don't want to think about it. You are trying to tell me that Christian has been making eyes at me – and, to answer your question, no, I never noticed anything untoward in the way he looks at me or treats me. It's crazy, but do you think he actually encouraged the rumors about us?"

He did not answer for a long time. "Mary Jo, I know that you love Annette and Christian. Annette is like a sister to you. Christian is your closest colleague and very dear to your heart. I think your affection for them has blinded you to some of their faults. They are both ambitious. Christian will do about anything to get this promotion. It benefited him to have people in the firm think you were having an affair. On the one hand, it made them think less of you. Wives who cheat on their husbands are considered to be untrustworthy and common. On the other hand, it may have made him seem more attractive, having a mistress as smart and talented as you."

"You said he looked at me in a way that might make people think we were more than friends. Was that real or an act do you suppose?"

"Oh, I have never had any doubt that Christian has always been very attracted to you. I could tell that from the very first time I met him. I think that is why he doesn't like me. He knows I was onto that from the beginning."

"Do you think that is one of the reasons Annette despises you so?"

"Not really. I think she just doesn't like me because she can't control me like she thinks she can control or manipulate you."

That made me mad. "You make them sound hateful and manipulative."

You said softly, "Honey, they both have many good qualities and I know they both love you, in some true and decent ways. If I didn't believe that, we would have had this conversation years ago. The fact that Christian is attracted to you is not necessarily a mark against him. Personally, I can understand how a man could be attracted to you. Lord knows, I have been from the minute I met you." I loved the kind of sexy laughter in your voice when you said that.

Unfortunately, you continued, "I think that he might have pursued it but for your complete innocence...."

"Cluelessness is more like it, at least according to Alicia."

"Call it what you will. You made it clear you were off limits and from what you say Christian has never crossed that line. I respect him for that. And, I will tell you now that if he ever steps across that line, I will have him for lunch.

"Nevertheless, while they do have many good qualities of which befriending you is foremost in my mind, I think they are both fairly manipulative people. I think Christian has taken advantage of the rumors about the two of you for his benefit, and to the detriment of your reputation. I'd like to clobber the son of a bitch for that.

"Annette has always appeared to be the model homemaker. But, you know and I know that Christian must be difficult to live with. Maybe she met a man who treats her like a woman instead of like 'the help'."

I stretched out on the couch and started to cry, "Frank, I know you're right. Christian is so awful to her. He isn't verbally or physically abusive or anything like that, but he's unbelievably inconsiderate and he takes her sooooo for granted. He never comes home when he says he will. He expects her to wait on him hand and foot when he is at home. He takes out his work stress on her and the kids. He never voluntarily helps her with anything and on the rare occasion when she does ask for some help, he bitches and whines. He's just an impossible jerk. I have never said this out loud before, but I don't know why Annette has stayed with him. If anybody treated me like that I'd have left him years ago."

You laughed out loud, "I'd take that for a warning but for the fact that I have always known it." Your voice grew soft and warm with admiration and love, "I know you always looked up to Annette as a sort of older, wiser sister. From my perspective, you are the strong and smart one. You made it clear to any man who ever had the balls to try to date you that you were not someone to be trifled with and you would not put up with any bullshit."

I was not in a mood for a lecture on my bad temper, so I interrupted, "I don't think I would put it quite like that, but you seem to have the general picture. What does that have to do with our conversation about Christian and Annette?"

"I think that you are so different from them you have never been able to see either of them clearly. You are smart, funny, talented and driven. That combination of things scared off a lot of men when you were single, fortunately for me. You strive mightily to get ahead on your merits, but you are not afraid to fail. You have always had options and fall-back plans. We love each other and have a great marriage, but we both know that either of us could and would leave under certain circumstances and, what is more important, both of us were doing just fine without the other one before we met and we would each be able to manage to live alone if the need arose. I have to add here that I shudder at the thought of having to live without you, but I know I could do it and so could you.

"We are together by choice, not out of need or habit or guilt or fear -- or any of the other strange and sick reasons people stay married when they perhaps shouldn't.

"Christian and Annette have a much more traditional arrangement than we do. Their financial and emotional well-being is all tied up in Christian's career. She puts up with a lot of bullshit from him because she feels she has to. Lately he has been traveling a lot. You know from experience how hard that is on a marriage, and you have help at home with Melissa. It must be very tough on Annette with three kids and no help. My guess is that Christian is not very emotionally supportive of Annette ..."

"You can say that again!"

"Add the fact that she has no adults besides you to talk to most of the time. So when you and Christian started traveling together, she was alone even more and her one source of support was off traveling around the country staying in fancy hotels – with her husband.... I guess I can't say I blame her for going out with someone else."

"You are probably right. But,....... oh, my god, Frank, do you think Annette heard and/or believed the rumors about me and Christian?"

"Whether or not she heard them, I am sure she would not have believed them. Besides me, no one knows your heart better than Annette. She knows you would not do that."

"How would she meet someone?"

"The man is her neighbor."

"You mean the divorced guy that all the women in the neighborhood are hot for?"

"I don't know about that. He's the man who lives next door, the one with the beautiful garden."

"Yeah, I know who you mean. I met him once when Annette and I were having a Sunday breakfast. He came into the restaurant with his sons."

"And?"

"He stopped by the table. He seemed polite. I didn't notice anything amiss, but that was quite some time ago. It must have been right after he moved in. I remember she didn't introduce me and she told me she was embarrassed because she couldn't remember his name. She said Christian had talked to him, but she hadn't really got acquainted with him. I said something to her about the fact that the women in the neighborhood must be putting on makeup to take out the trash. He's very nice looking, and smooth. Annette told me I was being ridiculous."

I knew that you were going to end the conversation soon if for no other reason than your cell phone was probably running out of charge. Ending long distance conversations with you never fails to make me sad. I said, "Which brings us back to the original question. While I can understand why Annette would step out, what I can't understand is why she would use me as an alibi. That is so unfair, considering my relationship with Christian! Why would she do that?"

"Perhaps because she knew she could."

"What?"

"You didn't rat her out. Her friendship means more to you than Christian's. She knows that. Given a choice, she knew you would choose her."

"I may have kept my mouth shut out of shock, but I am not going to let her do this. If she wants to leave Christian then she should do it. I would support her in that decision, but cheating is not something I can condone, no matter how much of an asshole Christian can be. I will not be her alibi. This afternoon you told me you thought I should talk to her. I sure as hell intend to do just that, but our talk is going to be a very different one than I anticipated."

You said, "I'm about out of juice on my phone. We can continue this tomorrow. I think your conversation with Annette should not take place in a restaurant. Why don't I plan on taking Lis' to ballet this Saturday and then keeping her busy for the rest of the morning. Invite Annette over to our house for breakfast."

"Good idea."

"You okay?"

"No, but I'll get over it. I need you to come home."

"I'll be home tomorrow unless you want me to cancel my meetings and come home tonight."

"You haven't offered to do that since my last miscarriage."

"You haven't had such an emotional blow since then."

"You can't get here tonight anyway. Go to your meetings. Come home tomorrow night, but you'd better eat before I get home because I want you to hold me from the minute I walk in the door until I stop crying, and that may take some time."

"Oh, goodie, I can hardly wait."

It was too late to call Annette on the phone, but I wanted to extend the invitation to breakfast before I chickened out, so I sent her an email before going to bed. It was a long, sleepless night.

Friday went by in a blur. I spent the day conducting follow-up telephone interviews with the client's employees. That was helpful because it required focus and concentration. I closed my office door and did not venture out all morning. At noon, Christian called on the phone and asked if I wanted to go to lunch. I told him I was working through lunch. I asked Alicia to order me a sandwich.

At 4:30 you called to say your plane had just landed. I calculated that if I left within the next few minutes I would arrive home about the same time as you. I tidied my office and let Alicia know I was leaving early. Then I called Grace on the way home and told her that I needed to talk to you alone for a while. I suggested that she take Melissa to Chuck E. Cheese or someplace for dinner where they could spend some time. By the time they got home, you and I would be ready to focus totally on Melissa before bedtime.

Grace laughed a bit uncomfortably and said she and Melissa would clear out pronto. I could tell that Grace thought we had made a sexual assignation; it was clear that Grace thought that was a little gross. Grace, being young enough to be our daughter, clearly thinks that we should cool it. I giggled at the thought, but I really didn't care. Grace can think what she likes about us. She is wonderful with Melissa and Melissa adores her. That's all that matters to me.

I got home first and had time to change clothes and start some preliminary dinner preparations. You walked in, looked around the kitchen and plunked a box of Chinese take-out on the counter and said, "Put that stuff away while I change my clothes. This food will stay hot for a while. Let's talk first and eat later. Where are Grace and Lissy?"

"They went out for dinner."

He laughed, "Damn. Coupla hours alone with my wife and we've gotta spend them _talking_. Bummer."

I blushed and said, "That might be incentive for me to talk really fast......"

As it turned out there was little left to say. I let go of the emotional outburst I had been reigning in since the day before in the only place I feel safe losing control like that: your arms. I cried, ranted, swore and cried some more. You did the best you could to comfort me. Mostly you just held me while I blew off steam.

When I was through, we ate dinner. You filled me in on your trip. I broke the news that Christian and I were off to Texas the following week. You grinned and said, "I'm going to be in St. Louis Monday and Tuesday but I have a do in Houston on Thursday. I was thinking about heading over there on Wednesday. Where will you be?"

"Corpus Christi on Monday and Tuesday, Houston Wednesday to Friday."

"Cool. I'll arrange to meet you there. You staying downtown or someplace out in the sticks?"

"Downtown. I forget the name of the hotel but it's supposedly near the new baseball field."

"Knowing Alicia, she already booked you at the Magnolia. If she didn't, have her cancel your reservation. I'll make arrangements with her to split the bill like we have been doing." He glanced at his blackberry and said, "Hey, the 'Stros will be in town. Will you be free in the evenings? We could go to a baseball game on Wednesday."

"Yeah, the people in the warehouse where we will be gathering documents and interviewing witnesses leave at 4:30 sharp. I'll be free in the evenings. You must be hard up for baseball if you are willing to go to a National League game."

You shrugged and said, with your thickest, most grating South Boston accent, "Well, you know the National League shouldn't qualify as real pro ball, but going to a baseball game of any kind is always a pleasure. Looks like the Astros are playing the Mets. Maybe there will be lots of injuries. That could be fun."

I laughed and socked your shoulder. Over the years I have come to the conclusion that if you are any indication, Red Sox devotees are truly the most obnoxious fans imaginable I said, "For the record, I am a National League fan. To be precise, I am a Cincinnati Reds fan. I rarely say that out loud in your presence so as to avoid an outburst, given your hatred of the Reds, on account of their 1975 World Series victory over Boston. Your loathing for the Reds is exceeded only by the bitter spleen all Bostonians' appear to reserve for the New York Yankees. I have learned over the years to be quiet on the subject of baseball and have never suggested going to a game in Cincinnati even though before I met you I used to enjoy attending ballgames often.

"I miss doing that. This is the first time you've ever suggested taking me to a baseball game and I have somewhat mixed feelings about it. I've gotta tell you, I love you, man, but you're hard to be around when the subject of baseball comes up. I will agree to go with you since it is a game in which you have no special interest in either team, but I will tell you now, if you misbehave or start screaming and cursing, I will leave. I swear."

I noted that you laughed but you did not make any promises. Fortunately, Melissa's arrival spared me your usual anti-Reds tirade. We all hugged and kissed and chatted for a while. Then the three of us curled up like puppies on the couch to watch _Toy Story_ for what seemed to me to be the eleven thousandth time. How you and Melissa could still laugh at the jokes and clap and cheer is beyond me. You put Melissa to bed while I cleaned up the kitchen. You came back a little while later and announced you intended to turn in early. I was tired and nervous about my meeting with Annette the next morning. I tried to read for a while, but soon gave up and went to bed, too.

I got up early on Saturday and helped Melissa dress for her dance class. I can't wait until she is old enough to squeeze into a leotard by herself! Because you planned to take her out for breakfast and a few hours in the park after dance class, I packed a change of clothes for after class. She could get the leotard off by herself, and I packed a play suit she could put on without help. You two took off for your special time together and I wanted desperately to go with you.

I had cleared my calendar for the entire morning to spend as much time with as might be necessary. Punctual, as always, Annette pulled into the driveway precisely at 8:30. I poured coffee and pulled a pan of scones out of the oven. I was doing breakfast the easy way. I certainly did not have much of an appetite. I didn't think Annette would either once the conversation got started.

We started with the typical catching-up-on-the-kids chit chat. We talked briefly about the upcoming trip to Texas. Annette wanted to know what kinds of clothes to pack for Christian. I suggested she pack his lightest weight suits. It would very likely be hot and muggy. I added, "Frank always takes twice as many shirts and pairs of underwear when he goes to hot places. He changes his clothes several times a day. Also, pack large plastic zip-lock bags for Christian to bring the sweaty clothes home in."

We poured more coffee and the conversation seemed to peter out. It occurred to me that was the first time that had ever happened. Annette and I had somehow drifted so far apart, we seemed to have little left to say to each other. I forged ahead anyway, and said, "Annie, I have to ask you something. This makes me really uncomfortable, but it has been bothering me. The other day Christian said something to me about you and me having dinner together on Wednesday evening. He said you came home from our outing in a good mood. He told me he'd thought you and I should get together in the evenings more often. I did not tell him that I hadn't seen you or talked to you at all this week." I tried not to sound accusatory, but could not resist ending with, "What's up with that?"

Annette paused for a long time, fidgeting with her coffee cup and brushing non-existent crumbs off the table. She did not look at me. My experience with witnesses told me Annette was about to lie. My love for Annette caused me to pray that I was wrong. Annette said softly, "Sorry about that. I had dinner with a friend Christian doesn't like. I told him I was with you. I meant to call you and tell you about it. Thanks for not giving me away."

I stared at my hands for a minute. I knew I could accept that explanation on its face because it was apparently true, as far as it went. There was something in me that wanted to do just that, but I could not do it. Our relationship had always been founded on our affection for each other but also on honesty. I knew I would never feel the same way about Annette again. Something had died at the heart of my love for my friend, but I knew if I did not ask any more questions, we could still have some kind of relationship albeit a damaged one. I couldn't do it. I could not let the lie pass. I said quietly, "Who were you with?"

Annette made a face but did not say anything. She said, "I was with a neighbor."

"Which one?"

"Jeanne."

I clasped my hands in my lap and struggled for control as our friendship crumbled around me. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply to try to postpone the tears that were on the way. I needed just a few more minutes before I lost it. I looked up into her beautiful eyes and said in a hoarse whisper, "Please don't lie to me. Let's start this conversation over and this time please, please tell me the truth."

Annette shrugged and made a face, "That is the truth." She leaned back in the chair as if challenging me to contradict her.

I put my hands in front of my face for a minute and tried to get a grip on my emotions. I was unbelievably close to losing it. Somehow I managed to croak, "Annette, I know that Christian can be an ass. I know he must be impossible to live with sometimes. Believe me I have years of experience with a traveling husband so I know how lonely it is at night when you are at home alone and your husband is gallivanting around the country. I wouldn't blame you for looking elsewhere. What I am having trouble with is the fact that you told Christian you were with me. Christian might think I knew about it and agreed to cover for you! And, to make matters so much worse, now you sit here and lie to me. What is going on?"

Annette crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at me, "I don't know what you are talking about. I had dinner the other night with Jeanne. I told Christian I was with you because he doesn't like Jeanne. He thinks she's common and low. You and the wives of his other lawyer-friends are apparently the only worthy social circle for me to hang out with any more."

I shook my head and tried a different angle. I reached across the table and tried to take Annette's hand. She pulled it away. I said gently, "If it's that bad, Annie, leave. He's been such a jerk lately to everybody, but most especially to you. You deserve better. Stand up for yourself, but do it the right way. Don't lie and cheat. It's so beneath you."

Annette leaned forward and hissed, "What the fuck do you know about it? I can't leave him! What would I live on? You think he would support me if I left him?"

I smiled, "Honey, I know a divorce lawyer who could fix you right up. She would put a lien on the rest of Christian's life. You need not worry about money. Divorce him and then start dating. Don't do it the other way around."

Annette shook her head and said, "God, sometimes I hate you. You are so prissy and self-righteous. Don't you dare preach to me. And don't you dare accuse me of cheating. I told you where I was."

I said quietly, "Then, I guess this conversation is pretty much over, but I have to say a couple of things. First of all, I know you are seeing someone. Frank saw you with your neighbor, but it wasn't Jeanne. If that is what you want to do, fine. Go ahead. But hear me well: you may be my oldest, dearest and best friend, but Christian is my colleague and he is my friend, too. Don't you ever, ever, ever use me for an alibi again and don't you ever imply to Christian that I knew or condoned this relationship."

A panicked look flashed across Annette's face, but she tried one more tack, "Frank saw what? Frank hates me. He made up a story to make me look bad."

That made me mad. I put my hands down flat on the table, hard enough to make the silverware rattle, and leaned forward, "Frank has never lied to me about anything, and you know it."

Annette crumpled, "You won't tell Christian, will you?"

I leaned back and thought about that. Ethically, I felt I owed it to Christian to tell him, although I was pretty sure he would be angrier with me for meddling than he would be at Annette for cheating. I said, "I won't tell him right away. I am going to give you some time to figure out what you want to do and to tell him yourself. Either decide to end your marriage and pursue a relationship with this person, or end the relationship and stop the lies. I will give you a little time to figure that out."

Annette stood up and said, "I guess this conversation is over." She turned and walked out of the house.

I whispered into the silence that followed her, "As is the friendship, I fear."

I spent the rest of the weekend with you and Melissa and did not bring up the subject of my time with Annette. On Sunday afternoon, while we were both packing, you gently asked how it went.

I shrugged and concentrated more than necessary on folding my suits and blouses. I said, "Not well. She lied to me. She denied everything. Then she blamed me for accusing her of something she didn't do."

"Did you tell her I saw them?"

"Yeah. She said you said that to make her look bad."

"Where did you leave it?"

"I told her that she must never use me as an alibi again. I told her I thought she should leave Christian and then pursue a relationship if that is what she wanted to do."

"Are you going to tell Christian?"

"I offered Annette some time to figure things out first. If she wants to get a divorce, I'll help her get a lawyer and support her through that. If she wants to save her marriage and end the affair now, I will not tell Christian. I told her she needs to decide, because I will tell Christian if she continues down this path. I feel I owe it to him because he is my friend, too. Sadly, I think that right about now, she is no longer my friend. I'd be willing to bet that if I rat her out to Christian, he won't be my friend any more either."

You looked up from your packing and asked, "How do you feel about that?"

I felt numb. I shrugged, "When the reality of it sinks in I am going to be devastated. Right now, I am still clinging to the hope that she will come around and we can salvage something out of our relationship. I doubt that will happen but I'm holding onto that hope at least for the next week or so.... long enough to get me through this trip with Christian."

You nodded and said, "You have the advantage of knowing you did the right thing."

"Yep. I did the right thing, and I lost my best friend because of it. What is more I probably destroyed their marriage, didn't I? More than likely, they could have gone along just fine. She could have her little thing on the side. Once Christian made partner, I'm guessing he probably would have started looking around for a trophy wife or at least a mistress. I had to stick my nose into it and fuck everything up, didn't I?"

You reached across the bed and took my chin in your hand and said the only thing that could have helped at all, "Annette brought you into it when she used you for an alibi. Keep that in mind."

I really did not want to talk about it. I said, "Remind me of that occasionally, will you."

The next morning we hugged and kissed Melissa goodbye. I cried a bit when I left her. In the car on the way to the airport, you said, "Honey, if you are going to get upset and cry every time you leave her for a few days, you may consider asking for a different assignment. Traveling never gets any easier. If it upsets you, you probably should try to work something out with Ron."

"I know you're right, but this is only temporary. Alicia tells me they are grooming me for an administrative role in the partnership. That would mean I would be sort of permanently stationed on the Mother Ship. I want that desperately. You travel. I want to be at home with our daughter. If I can get through the next few weeks, I think we will have gathered all the evidence and interviewed all the involved employees. By then they will have made the partnership decision. After that, I should be able to get back to normal."

"Won't they want you to go out for depositions?"

"Maybe a couple, but I think I can weasel out of most of them. I honestly don't know how you stand all this traveling. I've only been doing it for a couple of months and I hate it already. You've been doing it for your entire career. How do you stand it?"

"I guess I don't know any better."

We met Christian at the airport. Since your flight to St. Louis left after ours you were able to walk with me to the gate. Before you left, I asked, "Are you going to get the ball tickets or do you want me to pick them up?"

"We can probably just pick them up on Wednesday." You said to Christian, "Mary Jo and I are going to catch an Astros game on Wednesday night. Care to join us?"

Christian laughed and said, "You want me to go to a baseball game with you? I have heard your ranting and screaming at televised games. I shudder to think how you must behave at the ballpark. No thanks."

You pretended to be offended – or at least I thought you were pretending – and said, "You probably wouldn't want to go to an American League game with me. You Midwesterners are just too derned polite and proper to enjoy a baseball game with all the appropriate cursing, screaming, put-downs and tossing of beer bottles. However, this is a National League game between the Astros and the Mets. That means it's sort of like girl's baseball. I can assure you I'll be on my best behavior because I do not care about the outcome. I'm just going to soak up the atmosphere of a ballgame on a hot summer night, drink beer and sing 'Take Me Out To The Ballgame' during the seventh inning stretch."

Christian shook his head, "Thanks, but make it a date with your wife. I'll stay at the hotel and read a book or watch TV in peace."

I laughed, "I hear the hotel is fairly near the baseball park. You may hear him carrying on."

You held up your hands and acted innocent, "I am not that bad!"

Christian and I said simultaneously, "Oh, yes you are!" I think was about the last pleasant moment Christian and I enjoyed together.

Christian was oddly quiet on the plane and for most of our two days in Corpus Christi, which were spent sweating in a document storage facility digging through boxes of records. On Tuesday evening, we ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant adjacent to the hotel. Christian seemed nervous and tentative. He ordered a beer and drank it quickly. Then he ordered another. I thought that was odd because we hardly ever drank alcohol when we were traveling. Evidently after boosting his courage with alcohol, Christian looked at me out of the corner of his eye and asked, "Did you and Annette have a fight?"

I didn't answer but asked, "Why?"

"This was the first time in all these weeks we have been traveling or all the years we have worked together that she gave me a hard time about me spending time with you. She was not herself this weekend. I thought maybe you two had words on Saturday."

I said, "Christian, I promised Annette some time ago that I would not talk to you about her. The quid pro quo was that she agreed to be nicer to Frank. I intend to keep my promise to her. Therefore, I really don't want to talk about our conversation on Saturday. But, I will tell you that we were both upset by it. I think we are not finished with that conversation, but that is all I feel comfortable telling you."

"You want to know what I think? I think that it would be a really good thing if you and Annette would not see so much of each other. You upset her."

"I do? How so? I find it interesting that only a few days ago ago, you suggested that I get together with her more often. What has changed your mind?"

"You make her feel inferior because you are so damned perfect."

"Is that what she says or is that your opinion?"

"She never talks about you. But, I know that she must feel inadequate compared to you. You're smarter than she is, you're a great lawyer, you run your household better than she does. You do just about everything better than she does. It has got to be hard on her having to be around you."

It was all I could do not to dump my plate of tamales on his head. I leaned across the table and said, very softly in order to avoid screaming at him, "Listen to me, Christian. Annette does not feel inferior to me because she is every bit as smart, capable and competent as I am, and she knows it. She has no self esteem problems that I am aware of, unless, of course, you have been on some kind of campaign to cut her down and make her feel inadequate for whatever chauvinistic reasons you may have. As for running the household, I have given you my opinion of the job Annette does. My household runs like clockwork because Frank and I share the duties of running the place, and we have full-time help from Grace plus a cleaning lady who comes in a couple of times a month. Annette has three kids in school, a workaholic husband and no help whatsoever from anybody. She is amazing! Don't you dare ever criticize her for the job she does taking care of your household!"

He all but sneered at me, "Loyal to the end, eh? No matter what difficulties you may have with her, nobody else dares to say a word against her. Right?"

"Not on that particular subject, anyway." I stood up and said, "I'm not hungry. I'll see you in the morning."

I went back to the hotel and took a shower. I tried to read but could not focus. I ended up half watching an old movie on TV and dozing on and off. A couple of hours later, Christian called me on the room phone. I could tell from the background noise, he was still at the restaurant. He sounded drunk. He asked if he could come to my room to 'talk'; his meaning was clear from the hoarse and almost pleading tone of his voice.

I said evenly but firmly, "Christian, you are drunk. I will mercifully forget about this conversation. I hope you don't. I hope you are embarrassed and humiliated by the memory of it. It better never happen again." Then I hung up.

I slept very little that night.

Fortunately, Christian and I were not able to sit together on the flight to Houston. Upon our arrival, we went straight to the client's office where we spent the entire day interviewing employees in separate conference rooms. At the end of the day, we shared a cab to the hotel, but we were both so tired of talking, it seemed natural to be quiet. I was still so angry I know that if I had opened my mouth, it would have been to yell and scream.

When we arrived at the hotel, the concierge told me that you had already checked in. He gave me the room number. I went straight to our room while Christian checked in. You were stretched out on the bed watching the news. I crawled up beside you and put my head on your shoulder. I wrapped my arms and legs around you as tightly as I could. Then, and only then, was I able to cry. Between sobs I told you what had happened with Christian. You held me and let me cry it out. I was focused on my own pain at first. Only after a while did I look up to see your blazing eyes and square jaw working back and forth. I can only imagine how awful that was for you.

After a while I calmed down. You smoothed my hair and whispered, "Would you just like to order room service here. We can skip the ball game and stay here."

I sat up and wiped my face, "Let's go to the game. I think I need a diversion. There is no point in sitting around here feeling miserable." I grinned and winked, "Besides I mainly feel like yelling and screaming and swearing. At the ball game I can do all that and nobody will think anything of it."

"Change your clothes. You want to eat before we go?"

That may have been the stupidest thing you have ever said. "Hell, no. I like to go to a ballgame with an empty stomach. That way I can eat more peanuts and splurge on a hot dog that will probably make me sick since I haven't had meat in years."

As we walked toward the ball park, holding hands, you said, "It's odd I don't think we have ever actually attended a ballgame together."

"You forget where we live, my dear. You can't go by the ball park in Cincinnati without ranting. I'm sure as hell not going to venture inside with you, were you to even be willing to go."

"You're right."

"How long you gonna hold that grudge?"

You grinned and tried to look shocked that I would ask such a moronic question, "Forever!"

I put my arm around you and said, "When I was growing up there were two ballparks I always wanted to visit and I've never been to either one. I want to sit in the bleachers at Wrigley Field and I would love to go to a game at Fenway. What do you say we try to work in a couple of weekend trips to Chicago and Boston."

Your face clouded. "I don't know about Boston, but a weekend in Chicago might be fun. I've been to games at Wrigley lots of times. It truly is the best ballpark in America."

"Better than Fenway?"

"Fenway's not so much a ball park as it is a cathedral. At Fenway I used to sit in awe and trembling. At Wrigley I drink beer, eat hot dogs, swear at the umps and have a great time."

I hugged you and changed the subject but not before letting myself wonder why you never go back to Boston. I know you came from a large Boston Irish family. Those kinds of families tended to be close yet I had never met anyone from your family. You had never gone home for a visit. As far as I know, you didn't even talk to anyone from your family on the phone. I talk to my own parents almost daily; I can't understand your distance from your family. It has always bothered me that I know nothing about where you came from or your family.

My musing was interrupted by our arrival at the ball park. We found our seats and then went in search of beer and hot dogs. I tasted the Lone Star beer and made a face. "You know, just once you should break down and go to a game in Cincinnati. At least the food is good."

You grinned, "What? They serve Cincinnati chili?"

"Actually they do, but I can't imagine anyone eating chili at a ballgame. Too messy for one thing. True Cincinnati purists eat Big Red Smokies and wash 'em down with Hudepohl."

"I could go for that. It's that 'rooting for the home team' part I couldn't manage."

"You're impossible."

I somehow managed to have a wonderful time. The Astros won the game. I let myself be caught up in the experience and to forget for a while the terrible events of the past few days. Walking back toward the hotel with our arms around each other, I knew that I would mourn the loss of my friendships with Annette and Christian, but I was aware, perhaps for the first time, that as long as I have you, I truly do not need anyone else.

The next morning we met Christian for breakfast. Your conversation with Christian was polite but strained. You chatted mostly about the ballgame. Christian did not make eye contact with either of us. I could tell that you were itching for a fight, but you were holding your fire for a more appropriate time and place. I concentrated on my food.

At one point an incredibly beautiful woman walked out of the elevator. Virtually everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to watch her. She was so unbelievably beautiful I could not stop staring. The woman hesitated, looked around the room and then walked directly up to you. She flashed the most beautiful smile I had ever seen and said, "Good-morning, Mr. Bennett. I know you were expecting Stephanie, but she has a stomach flu. They asked me to substitute. I hope you don't mind."

You looked up at her as though you had stepped in something nasty and said with a haughty tone I had never heard you use before, "I mind very much. It appears you have forgotten what I tried to convey to you the last time we worked together. This is a skin care and makeup job. Go change your clothes and wash your face. Wear all black. No jewelry. No makeup. You should know better than to come in here looking like a god-damned runway model when what I need is a naked face."

"You can't honestly expect me to go out in public with no makeup!"

"I do. And pull your hair back in a pony tail, too. No barrettes."

The woman's body language made me half expect her to stamp her foot and talk back. I glanced at you. Your body language and facial expression shrieked of utter disdain for the woman. That look passed and was replaced by a bored, disinterested expression. "Do it my way or not at all."

She laughed and said, "But you need a model."

Your smile was both dismissive and irritated, "No, I don't. I can select any woman from the audience and accomplish the same thing. Actually, I almost prefer to work with women who aren't models. I can show the makeup on skin that isn't perfect. I can demonstrate the products on the women who will actually use them. I have been telling the company for years to quit wasting money on over-priced, high-maintenance stick-figures like you. I work best when I work by the seat of my pants. I'd be perfectly happy to do the demo using a woman from the audience."

Her eyes flashed hatred for a second, but she hid it quickly. She said, "I will go change. I'll be back in half an hour."

You didn't even look up from stirring your coffee, "I'm leaving in fifteen. With you or without you."

Christian was barely containing his mirth. I can't even begin to describe how shocked I was. I had never seen you behave that way. It was horrible. I said, "My God, Frank, did you have to be so mean?"

You grinned and made a funny face, like a little boy who knows he was bad but can't really bring himself to regret it because it was so much fun, "Yes, as a matter of fact I did have to be that mean. I hate working with local models. They all want to make the big time, but they don't know how. A real pro would have taken the time to educate herself about what kind of gig this is. She would have walked in here wearing a plain black dress, hair pulled back in a pony tail with her face totally bare. I almost guarantee, hardly anybody would have noticed her. I love to have my models wander around the room before a demonstration without makeup. Really good models can become almost completely invisible. At the end of the demonstration, I have the models circulate during the reception, and people can't take their eyes off them. It's all part of the demo. Professionals understand and come prepared.

"I have worked with that one before. She's no pro, that's for sure. She's got an ego the size of Texas and a mean streak to boot. I'd be willing to bet that Stephanie's stomach flu was induced."

You put your arm around me. "Sorry to have to let you see that little exchange. When I work with professionals, I treat them with professional respect. When I am forced to work with rookies or, worse, with local models who have delusions of grandeur, I have to take charge. I prefer to do it nicely. With girls like that, being nice won't work."

I shook my head. "When this case is over, I want to come with you to a convention and watch you in action."

You shook your head and made a face, "You are welcome to come along, but I don't think you would like it much. Conventions tend to be very nerve-wracking. You've seen the reality programs on TV about the designer runway shows? You know the ones, where the designers throw tantrums, rip up expensive dresses and scream at the models? Our conventions get like that sometimes. The one good thing about working far from home is that I have a chance to put my evil twin away on the flight home so you and Melissa don't have to deal with him."

I stood up and said, "Well, then, maybe I don't want you to quit traveling. We have to go. Hope your friend, there, makes it back before you ditch her."

You gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, "Frankly, I'm considering ditching her regardless. Her skin looked too perfect. I prefer to show off my wares on women who look real. On the other hand, after she takes off all the gunk she had on her face, maybe she does have some splotches and blemishes."

I grinned. "I'll meet you back here at 6:30."

"Can't. I have a dinner thing tonight. I'll be very late." Then you brightened, "Unless you want to join me?"

"I'd love to, but I don't think I have the clothes for it."

"I'll take care of that. Come back here when you are finished for the day. Your clothes will be in the room. The function is right here in the ballroom. Cocktails start at 7:00." I was transported with joy when your grin lit up the room and you said, "I will be a total thrill to show you off to my colleagues!"

I whispered, "You think you'd have time to run up to the room and fix my face before I have to meet all those beautiful people?"

You blew me one more kiss. "I'll meet you in the room at 6:45. I have to change into my tux anyway."

"It's black tie?"

"Nearly all our functions are."

"Is it too late for me to back out?"

"Not a chance. You have no idea how often I've wanted to have you with me. You've come this far, you go all the way."

"Damn!"

Christian and I hailed a cab for the ride to the client's office. Christian was still trying to contain his laughter. I said irritably, "What's so funny?"

He cleared his throat and said, "I wish you could have seen your face when Frank started in on that model."

"Why?"

"It was funny. You looked so shocked and surprised."

"Weren't you?"

"Not really."

"Oh, come on, Christian, you have known Frank almost as long as I have, don't sit there and tell me you have ever seen him behave like that."

He looked at me for a long time and said, "As a matter of fact I have. On at least one occasion when his tirade was directed at my wife, whom he despises as you well know. I am gratified to know that he has never turned his mean streak on you. I guess it speaks well of him that at least he is kind to you and Melissa. He does not hesitate to use intimidation and threats to get what he wants from other people."

I did not answer him. I looked out the window and considered whether to be angry or frightened. I wanted to be angry at Christian for being an ass about it. I also wanted to be very frightened about discovering something so disturbing about you. Christian picked up the newspaper and our conversation was over.

Once again, we spent the day interviewing our client's employees in separate conference rooms which were located in different parts of the building. Christian interviewed the white collar workers. I interviewed staff and factory workers because we had discovered I had a better rapport with them than Christian did. Over lunch we compared notes and divided up the assignments for the afternoon's interviews. I was glad to know that despite our personal difficulties, they were able to work together with our usual efficiency. The client's branch manager offered to take us out to dinner. I begged off. Christian accepted.

I took a cab back to the hotel earlier than I had expected. In the room, I found several boxes on the bed from a very upscale clothing store. I decided to delay opening them. I took the time to take a shower and shave my legs. I was coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel when you walked in. You said, "Perfect timing. Do not get dressed yet. Have a seat, my dear. I'll do your makeup and then I'll shower while you dress."

I sat on an ottoman in front of the window while you opened the drapes, muttering about the shitty lighting in hotel rooms. You knelt in front of me and laid your valise open on the floor beside you. You ran your hands over my face and kissed me very quickly and softly. Then you whispered, "Close your eyes."

First, you wiped my face with toner. Then you applied a cream that smelled different from my usual moisturizer. I asked, "What's that stuff?"

You answered, "Under foundation cream. Something like primer paint. Now, hush."

I chuckled and tried to be quiet and still. In a surprisingly short time, you were finished. I asked, "Can I open my eyes now?"

You touched my chin and said, "Okay."

I looked into your unbelievably green eyes, which were gazing at me with naked adoration. You made a face and asked, "Don't you want to look in a mirror?"

I shook my head, "I can see in your eyes all I need to know about how I look. Can I open my presents now?"

You grinned, "Sure. Get dressed while I shower."

The dress was a plain pearl-gray silk sheath, floor-length dress with a short jacket. I put it on and turned to the mirror to comb my hair. I could not believe what I saw! Instead of the somewhat dowdy lawyer-lady who usually stared back at me from the mirror, I saw an almost-beautiful woman. I started to brush my hair in my usual style. You walked up behind me and said, "Not like that. Tonight you're showing off your face." You brushed my hair straight back and worked some gel into it. The look was dramatic and a tad severe. I didn't like it at first, but after a minute I realized how perfectly it complemented the clothes.

"I need jewelry."

You said, "Only these." You opened a jewelry box I had not noticed on the vanity. It contained a pair of diamond stud earrings set in platinum. You put them on me and turned me back to the mirror.

I wanted to cry, but knew you would kill me if I messed up your fancy paint job, so I resorted to humor, saying, "You know, I have no idea who in the hell that woman is, but she's a knockout."

You smiled and patted my head. "Wait until you see her with lipstick."

You dressed in a flash. I was amazed at how fast you tied a perfect bow tie. I know you don't think much of your looks, but in that tux, I thought you were gorgeous. You saw the look in my eye and winked. "Thanks." Then you walked over to me and kissed me on the lips, adding, "That's it for kisses until the evening is over and we take off your makeup." You then expertly applied lip liner, filled it in with lipstick and topped it off with some kind of gloss. You regarded your handiwork and whistled.

I looked back in the mirror and tears sprang to my eyes.

You barked, "Don't you dare cry!"

I was so startled by that, I blinked and laughed, "Yes, sir, Sarge."

On the way down in the elevator I put my hand on your arm and said, "Can I stay with you or will you be busy?"

You looked at me with an odd expression and said, "Don't you even think about leaving my side for so much as an instant tonight. This is the first time since we have been married I have had an escort to one of these soirées. Most of my colleagues think you don't really exist. I am thrilled beyond words to have you here."

Your face clouded for a minute and you added, "But I have to warn you. The persona you saw this morning with the model is more typical of the way I behave professionally than anything you have seen before. I'm a salesman, which in most industries calls for a sort of jovial kind of guy. I can do that when I'm schmoozing potential clients. However, on the 'fashion' side I have sort of built up a reputation as something of a holy terror. Temperament, preferably erratic and nasty is sort of the norm in this industry. A little out and out cruelty actually helps. I figured that out early in my career and have capitalized on it. Please try not to look too shocked and surprised at my behavior."

"You mean like I did this morning."

"Yes. That was very funny."

"I was appalled by your behavior."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet. Just stick with me. Smile pretty and if I go off on somebody try to look as bored as possible."

I grinned. "I don't know whether to be scared or intrigued."

You responded, "Intrigued would be good! Very good, especially if you add just a hint of boredom at the edges as though you have seen me do that routine just one too many times."

I promised to try.

That evening whizzed by in a blur. A mere visitor in your world, I felt a little like I had been dropped onto another planet filled with beautiful women and gorgeous men, also. The people who were not beautiful were obviously very rich: they wore privilege and power like the rest of the crowd wore fancy clothes and jewelry. You introduced me to dozens of people. I soon gave up even trying to remember their names. Everyone told me they thought you were wonderful. I think about half of them were lying, but I readily agreed with them -- and I absolutely meant it.

During the course of the evening, you had some nasty exchanges with several people, but for the most part things went smoothly. You reminded me a little of the alpha male gorillas from the Jane Goodall films on PBS. If anybody got too close to you or did something you didn't like, you reared up and snarled. Fortunately, everyone you challenged that night backed down, so there were no real fights. You were a different person in that environment, even when you weren't being snarky and mean. You carried yourself differently. Your tone of voice was harsh; you were abrupt and impatient. I didn't like it, but I totally understood it. I do the same thing when I cross-examine a witnesses. It is all about exercising power and taking control of a situation. Both of us have to do that in our jobs. Neither of us ever has to do it at home. I am glad I don't have to deal with your professional persona very often. To be honest about it, you're kind of a bastard. But it was exciting to see you so strong and commanding.

At one point during the evening I chuckled to myself at that thought. You saw me laugh and whispered, "What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me? I wasn't aware I was being funny."

"You aren't. You're behaving like a prick. What is so funny is that you are so good at it."

You grinned and winked, "Oh, I have had years and years of practice, my dear."

I looked into your eyes and said softly, "I'm really glad you don't bring your work home."

You patted me on the butt and turned to greet a gaunt elderly lady who was wearing way too much makeup and a dress meant for a young, voluptuous body. She looked like a cadaver. I choked back a laugh and shook the skeletal hand. The woman walked away and I made a terrible face. You hissed sotto voce, "Behave!"

I reverted to my bland, 'intrigued' look. You nodded and winked.

Unfortunately for my hungry stomach, they never did serve dinner at the party. The entire evening was one long happy hour. A lot of people were very drunk by mid-evening. We were not among them because the waiters served us only watered down apple juice. It was vile tasting, but it looked exactly like white wine. By eleven o'clock my feet hurt, my stomach was growling and I craved a real drink. I whispered, "How much longer?"

You looked around and pursed your lips, "I think we're finished here."

You steered me towards the elevator. Once inside, I leaned against you and said, "I'm hungry."

"I ordered room service. There should be real wine, fruit, cheese and bread waiting for us. If you want something hot, we can order dinner."

"No, that sounds wonderful." I took off my shoes and padded down the hall behind him in my bare feet. I walked into the room and said, "Pour me a large glass of that wine while I wash my face and get out of this costume!"

As I disappeared into the bathroom, you called, "Don't you even think about using soap on that face. I put out the stuff you need to take off your makeup."

"I see it."

I came out a few minutes later with my face clean and the dress over my arm. You motioned for me to toss the dress across a chair and join you on the bed. We sat cross-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed with the tray between us, munching on cheese and grapes. You dished gossip about the people I had met that evening, and some who weren't there.

Totally knocked out by the whole experience. I asked, "You do this all the time?"

"Yep."

I ran my hand over my face and said, "How do you stand it?"

You raised your eyebrows and asked, "Do you really want to know?"

I nodded. You reached in your pocket and pulled out an old fashioned pocket watch, opening it to reveal a photo inside the lid: it was a picture of me holding Melissa when she was baby. You almost whispered, "When I think I can't stand it one more minute, I look at this, and remind myself of why I'm doing it. I am very close to accumulating the money I need in order to be able to retire. Once I hit that mark, I'm through and I will come home to spend all my time taking care of the two of you."

I looked into your eyes for a long time and said, "Christian told me this morning that you once unloaded on Annette like you did with that model. Is that true?"

You sighed and thought for a minute, "I suppose I did once or twice, a very long time ago. I have to tell you that you have almost ruined me for my job. I used to be a bastard all the time, both on the job and off. You and Lissy have made me mellow. I guess early in our relationship, I did show my evil face to Annette and to Christian."

"What were the circumstances?"

You said, "If you don't mind, I'd prefer not to go into that just now. Suffice it to say that it happened a couple of times and both times I unloaded with all I had. Both times I had good reason."

I put the tray on the desk, pushed you down on the bed and stretched out beside you. "That explains a lot. You know, I think our relationships with Christian and Annette have been very complicated and subject to a lot of misunderstandings. I think Christian and Annette think you are some kind of abuser."

"What?"

"You showed them your mean side early on. I fell so in love with you so quickly and I have pretty much eliminated everything from my life but you and my work, with time out occasionally for Annette – always when you aren't around. I think they interpreted our relationship as one in which you control me.

"Annette believed that you were manipulating me into having the baby you wanted but I didn't. She knew I never particularly wanted to get married much less have kids. She didn't know or didn't believe that I have never done anything with you or for you that I didn't do freely and voluntarily. That includes the ordeal of trying to have Melissa. While it is true, marriage and motherhood were never on my original agenda, by the time we got to the point of trying to conceive I wanted a baby as much as you did. It was a horrible nightmarish experience, and I try not to think about it too much, but when I look at you with Melissa or when she looks up into my eyes and calls me 'Mommy', I know it was totally worth it.

"Still, I can understand how Annette and Christian might have misread the signals." I ran my fingers down the side of your face and said softly, "Until today I had no idea you could be such asshole. But, I think Christian and Annette see you very differently...." I paused and then went on, "just as you have always seen Annette in a very different light than I do."

"Do you love me any less for being an asshole?"

"Not at all." I hesitated, "Maybe this is twisted and stupid, but I think I respect you a little more. I hope you never turn your evil twin loose on me or Lissy, but I am glad you are tough. I have always thought you were much too nice of a person to be in the rough and tumble world of fashion. I am glad to know you can hold your own."

"Hold my own, hell. I am the biggest, baddest, meanest sonofabitch in the room most of the time!"

I grinned and held you close, and said, "That's my man!"

On Monday morning I went through my mail and returned a bunch of phone calls. Midmorning I received an email from Alicia which I noticed was also addressed to you. It was a reminder of the upcoming firm golf outing and dinner at a local country club. Alicia had reserved us seats for the dinner. She knew that I did not play golf, and asked if you wanted to play. Non-golfers were invited to spend the afternoon either playing tennis or lounging at the pool. Before I had a chance to reply that I did not want to attend at all, you responded, copying me.

Your message read: _And so we now move into the final phase of the "Mary Jo Bennett For Partner" Campaign. Golf outings, my God! In response to your question I can play golf, but I hate it and I only venture onto the links when I have a really big deal hanging in the balance. No offense, Mary Jo, but your partnership's not worth a game of golf to me._

Tennis is another matter. I am a good tennis player. Mary Jo sucks because she refuses to practice. For the purpose of this event, sign us up for mixed doubles tennis. We'll get in less trouble that way than sitting around the pool getting loaded with the partners' wives. We'll beat the pants off any associates who dare to challenge us, but we'll let all the old, fat partners win.

As for the dinner, as unappetizing as it sounds, please see if you can arrange to have us seated with the Davises and some big shot partner.

Will you be attending, Ali?

Alicia replied immediately: _Tennis it is. I pity the poor young 'uns who end up across the net from you two._

As for dinner, you are at a table with the Davises, the managing partner and his wife along with Big Chief Rainmaker and his bimbette-du-jour. Now doesn't that sound like just so much fun? Betcha can't wait!

No, I will not be attending. This is an attorneys-only function. Peons are not invited. Thank God!!

Your response came back almost before I had finished reading her message: _You're the best, Ali. This sounds like a wonderful event. I will be unable to function all week in delicious anticipation._

Alicia responded: _You lie!!!_

You replied: _I'm a salesman. It's what I do._

I wrote: _How often do you two communicate and talk behind my back?_

Alicia replied: _MJ, as an attorney you should know better than to ask questions you do not already know the answer to._

You chimed in: _All you need to know, sweetheart, is that your career is in the best possible hands. Just do exactly as Ali tells you and you'll be just fine._

I deleted the emails with a smile and returned to work. Somehow it felt good knowing that you and Alicia had developed such a great working relationship. It made everybody's lives easier. I knew that Alicia communicated with you regarding scheduling travel. I didn't know you had become so chummy, but I liked the idea that you two were looking out for me, even when I wasn't aware of it.

Late in the morning, I called Alicia on the phone, "How about lunch?"

"You want me to order your regular?"

"No. I want to take you out to lunch. You have been doing a great job covering for me while I have been traveling. I guess I learned this morning that, unbeknownst to me, you have also been serving as my campaign manager for this partnership opportunity. On the one hand I owe you lunch. On the other, I guess I need your advice on how to handle a couple of things."

We went to the Thai place I loved and sat in a corner booth in the very back of the restaurant. Alicia filled me in on the firm goings-on from recent weeks. Happy Giant was definitely on its way out, which freaked the partnership to the core. The loss of such a huge client meant millions in lost annual revenue.

Alicia started to dish gossip and I put up the stop sign. "Don't go there."

She said, "Sorry."

I fidgeted and pushed my food around on my plate. I really did not want to talk about the things I needed to discuss with her. Alicia studied my face for a while and then said, "Don't tell me. Let me guess. Something happened between you and Christian on your trip last week. If I were a betting person, I'd bet he finally made a pass at you." She laughed at my astonished expression. "It's so funny. For years, most people in the firm thought you and he were having an affair. The younger secretaries and the female junior associates know what a cad he is. The staff pretty much always thought you were way too good for the likes of him. You have no idea how glad everybody was to learn the truth. Lord knows that makes you about the only woman in the firm he hasn't" she paused and looked at me for a long minute, "at least until recently – tried to screw."

I was so flabbergasted I know my eyes went wide and I put my hand in front of my mouth, "Don't tell me ..."

"Don't tell you that Christian's the worst kind of a jerk!? I never did before because I knew you were friends. Despite the firm gossip to the contrary, I always suspected that somehow for some reason Christian considered you off limits. I wanted to think it was your decency that kept him from messing with you. Now I think it had more to do with the fact that he knew you would have knocked his block off if you had any idea he might do anything to hurt your dear friend, his wife. I guess the best I can say about Christian is that, while he may be an ass, he isn't stupid. In a one-on-one battle, you'd have him for lunch, and I think he knows it.

"I hope it makes you feel somewhat better to know that you have joined a not-very-elite group. There is hardly a woman in the firm, other than the two old Amazons among the partners and some of the older or fatter secretaries, who have not had the pleasure of being cornered by Christian at some time or another. I am amazed nobody has ever filed a sexual harassment complaint against him."

I could only shake my head in astonishment. "Has everything in the world turned upside down and backwards?"

Alicia laughed and asked me what I meant. I explained how I had learned about your "other personality." Alicia laughed at my naiveté, but said nothing. I shook my head again and said, "All these years I could not understand why Annette and Christian didn't like Frank. He told me he thought it was because Annette wanted to have me under her thumb. Now I think they don't like him because they think he is an abusive bastard. Nothing could be further from the truth, but after seeing him in action last week and knowing how I act in his presence, I could understand how they arrived at that conclusion.

"And now I find out that Christian, whom I always thought was a straight-arrow, true blue great husband to my best friend is a liar and a cheat and the worst kind of cad, cutting his wife down and demeaning her to her friends. If he talks about her like that behind her back, God knows how he must treat her at home. I know in my heart that he loves her, or at least he used to love her. I can't get my head around how a person can love someone and disrespect them so."

Alicia grinned and patted my hand. Alicia is about ten years older than me. She had been married and divorced twice. Very few people in the firm knew it, but she had carried on a twenty year affair with the recently retired managing partner. She knew a thing or two about deception.

She said, "Love is rarely simple. It is possible to love someone and to treat them very poorly. I think it is also possible to love more than one person at a time; when that happens your life can really spin out of control...." her voice trailed off, but she caught herself, "You are the most fortunate of women. You had a good upbringing in a non-abusive home. You are married to a man who adores you beyond all reason. Sometimes that's dangerous. Sometimes when men love their wives too much they put them on a pedestal and try to turn them into goddesses and not real women. Somehow Mr. Bennett managed never to fall into that trap. He sees you as a whole woman and he routinely encourages and sometimes pushes you to stretch yourself and grow. He takes inordinate pride in your career and he will do anything he can to support you." She laughed, "Including going to the firm outing this weekend and being on his best behavior. I'm sure he would rather have a root canal."

I said, "I truly don't deserve him."

Alicia's face softened and she said quietly, "I beg to differ. I think you absolutely do deserve him. You are the nicest person I know. You need and deserve a champion, protector and cheerleader like your husband."

I patted Alicia's hand in return and interjected, "Not to mention a Guardian Angel like you?!"

Alicia beamed. I went on, "I'm so confused." I paused, "This conversation is strictly private, right?"

Alicia nodded, "Privileged, confidential and all that."

I continued, "Well, it's even more complicated. I recently found out that Christian's wife is having an affair with one of their neighbors."

Alicia threw back her head and laughed out loud. For some reason that made me mad, I said coldly, "That wasn't meant to be funny."

Alicia wiped her eyes, "Oh, yes it is funny. Christian is such a cad, he deserves to have his wife step out, but it's funny because Mrs. Davis has always flirted with every man she encountered. She seems to think she is quite irresistible. Honestly if I were guessing, I'd guess that one component of Mrs. Davis' feelings about your husband have to do with that. I'd bet you dollars to donuts she made a pass at him very early on in your relationship and he shot her down.

"To my knowledge none of the attorneys in the firm ever responded to her advances, but she has always taken every opportunity to make it clear that she was a woman on the prowl."

I wanted to cry. I put my head in my hands and whispered, "God, I have a headache."

Alicia chuckled, "Look on the bright side..."

I looked up at her miserably, "There is a bright side to this?"

Alicia grinned, "Oh, yes. I would give anything to be invited to the dinner this week. You and Mr. Bennett will do what you always do. He will be attentive and loving as always. You will be your usual witty and kind of off-beat self, but you will also be the adoring wife. You will be seated with the managing partner and his wife. They have been married for more than fifty years and they still look at each other like teen-agers at the prom. You and Mr. Bennett will enjoy them; they are a lot like you two. Your star will rise even higher when Mrs. Thompson gets a load of Mr. Bennett. He's a lot like Mr. Thompson, in a whole bunch of ways. It will do well for you to impress her. She has enormous influence over her husband's opinions.

"You will also be seated with Geoff Houston and whichever of his women he chooses to bring to the event." She paused. "Since this conversation is secret, I'll tell you this, but you'd better never breathe it to a soul. Both Mr. and Mrs. Thompson hate Geoff; they are very religious Catholics and they think he's an immoral son of a bitch. As an aside, I will tell you that I have never met anyone who held any different opinion of him, including his clients, all of his ex-wives and his many ex-girlfriends.

"Ordinarily, Geoff barely acknowledges the Thompsons, and he doesn't have to. He brings in so much money to the firm, he can do as he pleases and everyone knows it.

"One of the cardinal rules at all firm functions is that Geoff and his women are to be kept as far from Mrs. Thompson as is possible. They have never been seated together before. This year both Geoff and Mr. Thompson asked to have you at their table, which tells you a lot about your status. Mr. Thompson's secretary told him about Geoff's request and he cleared it with Mrs. Thompson. They know that Geoff will be at the table with all of you. Geoff doesn't know."

I chuckled, "So when Geoff waltzes in with some young tart on his arm he will have to spend the entire evening under the baleful glare of not only Mr. Thompson but also his wife."

"Yes."

I added, "Add to that the cross-currents between the Davises and Frank and me."

Alicia nodded, "God, I'd volunteer to be a waitress for the evening." She looked at me, "And I want the whole, unvarnished story come Monday."

"I'll do you better. Do you want me to call you on Saturday?"

"Sure!"

"Better still, why don't you come over to our house on Saturday. We'll sit by the pool. Frank and I can fill you in on all the scoop. Since I am apparently utterly clueless about nearly everything of significance in my life, my guess is that I will learn some interesting things from you and Frank."

Alicia grinned and said, "Before I come over, I'll call my friend who is the event planner at the country club. I've already told her I want her to assign your table to the waiter who is the best eaves-dropper of all of her staff."

I sighed and said with a grinding feeling in the pit of my stomach, "I can barely contain my excitement."

As we walked back toward the firm, Alicia handed me a business card. I looked at it and raised my eyebrows. Alicia waved her fingers in the general direction of the department store on the corner across from the office, "That's a card from a fashion consultant at Irene's. She will fix you up with everything you need for the weekend. It will cost you an arm and a leg, but it will be worth it. Trust me."

I put my hand on Alicia's shoulder, "Oh, I do trust you, more than you'll ever know."

Alicia smiled, patted my hand and quipped, "You know you might want to do something about that nakedly trusting nature of yours. Do you not get yourself in trouble with witnesses?"

I laughed, "I probably would except for one thing I've got going for me that keeps me from being a total doormat."

"That being?"

"I hate a liar. And I'm usually pretty good at spotting someone who is lying. I can't always tell if someone is hiding something, but I can almost always spot the lie. That kills any trust I may have had."

Alicia looked very sad for a moment, "You must be in a lot of pain these days."

I am sure my face started to crumple, but I managed to regained my composure and said, "Yes. It is very hard to lose a friend. Who'd have ever imagined I would lose two of them at once?"

I went off to go shopping and Alicia returned to the office.

I hoped all week it would rain on Saturday. Nothing would get me out of the dinner, but I would have preferred to avoid the afternoon of tennis at least. Unfortunately for me, Saturday dawned clear and warm. The TV weatherman predicted a perfect early fall day in Cincinnati. I dressed and wondered vaguely if I could get out of going to the party by giving myself over to the nausea I felt at the very thought of the day that lay ahead.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be looking forward to the event. You enjoy playing tennis and you are an outstanding player in your age group. You especially looked forward to trouncing weekend-only players who were decades younger than you.

Since you loved tennis so much, when we met I took lessons. I played against you for a couple of years early in our marriage. I enjoyed it immensely for a while but your skills improved to the point you were so much better than I was, it was no fun for either of us to play against each other. At that point, we switched to mixed doubles where I tended to stand around trying to look like I was interested in the match while you annihilated all opponents with hardly any help from me. To make matters worse, in my early 30's my eyes started to go bad and I had to resort to bi-focal lenses. Unlike many people, I did not have difficulty getting used to the glasses, other than for playing tennis. I absolutely could not follow the ball with my bifocals. I knew I should get plain lenses for tennis only, but I never did. Instead, I stopped playing tennis altogether.

I switched to Pilates and yoga for my fitness routines. I didn't want to admit to you that I enjoyed those exercise routines more than tennis. I am competitive enough in my job. I don't want to be competitive in my recreation.

You, on the other hand, my darling, are competitive with every breath you draw.

As you predicted, we creamed all the associates and their spouses who dared to challenge us. Only one senior partner and his wife offered to play us. You were all set to let them win (I can't imagine how difficult that would have been for you), but the partner made it clear he wanted a fair game. He wanted us to play our hardest. We did just that, and we beat the partner and his wife in a love match. They seemed to enjoy it. You barely broke a sweat. I don't think I hit the ball once other than when it was my turn to serve.

Because the country club was on the other side of town from where we live, you booked a room at a nearby hotel so we had a place to shower and change before dinner. We even had time to take a short nap. Consequently, we turned up for dinner relaxed and rested.

As a matter of fact, we stood in stark contrast to many of the harried associates, including Christian and Annette, who had raced home to change and then hurried back to the club. Most of the senior partners lived nearby. The ones who did not live close had either booked hotel rooms or made arrangements to change at the homes of other partners who lived in the neighborhood. I had bitched about it when you booked such an expensive hotel room, but when I walked into the dining room without the frazzled feeling I saw on the faces of other associates, I forgave you. In fact, I felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude for having you in my life. Those feelings wash over me from time to time, but I too seldom let you know about that.

We mingled with the crowd at the bar. You didn't ask me what I wanted to drink. You brought me a glass of plain tonic with lime, and winked. I understood the message. At one point I noticed you talking to the country club employee who was in charge of the evening. I wondered for a second what that was about, but assumed you was discussing booking a meeting there for your region.

As we moved toward our table, you whispered, "When the waiter asks if you want red or white wine, ask for white."

I made a face, "Am I going to be drinking that nasty apple juice concoction all evening?"

"Not quite, but close."

I noticed there was one wine steward who was pouring for only certain couples. I tasted my "wine" and realized it was non-alcoholic grape juice. I leaned over to you and whispered, "This is for the recovering alcoholics, right?"

"Recovering alcoholics usually drink water or coffee. This is for people who want to maintain their faculties without pooping on anybody else's party."

I grinned and said even more softly, "Or, more accurately, people who want to maintain their faculties while everybody else feels comfortable getting loaded."

"Isn't that what I said?"

Mr. Thompson introduced his wife. When Geoff Houston introduced his "fiancée," I noticed a wicked smile make an appearance at the corners of Mrs. Thompson's lips, only for the briefest of moments. I expected Mrs. Thompson would capitalize on that lie, no doubt with a wedding shower or something. Christian introduced Annette and I introduced you, briefly describing what you do for a living. Geoff Houston was instantly alert. You work for a huge corporation. F&J was trolling for a big client to replace Happy Giant. Neither Geoff nor Mr. Thompson said anything, but both of them focused what I thought was inordinate attention on you.

You pretended not to notice and very subtly made it clear that you had no involvement with your employer's legal department and you generally preferred to keep it that way. Then, after a very pregnant pause, you said almost as aside, "However, I did give Mary Jo's card to our general counsel at our annual shareholders meeting a couple of months ago. He mentioned that the company might be interested in talking to F&J in the event they have any litigation in the Midwest." Your voice was like silk and you said it so offhandedly, a casual observer might have missed its significance. I knew the remark was totally rehearsed and timed for maximum effect. A ripple went around the table. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, Geoff and Christian snapped to attention like a bunch of Marine recruits. That was my cue.

I laughed, "You didn't tell me that! That explains why he called me – seemingly out of the blue – a couple of weeks ago. We chatted for a while. He mentioned that the American Division was very unhappy with the New York blue bloods who have been handling Arielle's litigation matters. He said that he felt those firms' billing rates were ridiculous and the service was not what he expected to receive. He told me that he felt the problem was that Arielle runs a clean operation and has relatively little litigation for such a gigantic corporation, so its lawyers did not make as much money off Arielle as they typically would have expected. Consequently, his New York attorneys did not have an incentive to kiss his ass as much as he felt they should. He wanted to know if F&J would be interested in handling Arielle's next litigation matter in the U. S."

Mr. Thompson and Geoff Houston leaned forward. Geoff said, "And? What did you tell him."

I shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant, "I told him that I would be delighted to handle any litigation matters that did not involve Frank's operations. For any litigation involving Frank or any of his employees, I told him I would fix Arielle up with a litigation partner who could stand up to Frank. I haven't figured out yet who on earth that might be, but we can cross that bridge when if we ever come to it." I looked sheepish for a minute and then grinned around the table, "I did add that while he could expect F&J to provide him with stellar service at reasonable rates there would be absolutely no ass-kissing."

You laughed out loud and said, "My guess is that F&J can expect to hear from Arielle in the very near future. For one thing, I don't know him well, but the general counsel of our American Division is from Kansas or Nebraska or someplace like that. He likes straight talk and honesty, including from his lawyers, and can't abide the east coast snobs the company generally retains for their legal work. That was probably the best thing you could have said to him.

"What is more, I have also heard rumblings of a brewing dispute between Arielle and Estee Lauder over the formulation of a new skin care product. I don't think a lawsuit has been filed yet, but rumors abound that it is only a matter of time."

I shook my head, "They wouldn't hire us for that. Both of those companies are in New York. More than likely, the lawsuit would be filed in New York State court. F&J doesn't have an office in New York."

You nodded and said, "I don't know about that. The Arielle research lab that supposedly ripped off the formula is in Lexington, Kentucky. What I hear is that Estee Lauder plans to file in federal court in Kentucky."

I rubbed my hands together, "Don't tell me, let me guess: at the heart of this is an Estee Lauder employee who went to work for Arielle and soon thereafter just happened to come up with a new product that is remarkably similar to one he or she was working on at Estee Lauder."

"Bingo! How did you get so smart?"

I smiled up into your eyes, enjoying the game, "Actually that was wishful thinking. Those kinds of employment contract lawsuits tend to have the most personal animus and they tend to be very, very expensive to defend."

I glanced around the table. Mr. Thompson and Geoff Houston both looked borderline orgasmic. Mrs. Thompson had a bland look on her face but I could tell from the amused glint in her eye she understood exactly what had just happened, and was very pleased. Houston's "fiancée" was not listening at all. At first, I didn't dare to look at Christian and Annette. When I did glance their way, I wished I hadn't. Christian was staring at me with naked hatred. The look on Annette's face was much harder to read, but disturbing nonetheless.

Once that moment had passed, everyone settled down a bit. Mrs. Thompson asked me and Annette about our families. We answered with anecdotes about our children. Annette scored some major points for being a homemaker. Mrs. Thompson made it clear she preferred women who stayed home and took care of her own children. She also seemed to like the fact that Christian and Annette had three children. As a very devout Catholic, she was suspicious of my only child. I would have let that pass, but Mr. Thompson stepped in to help me out. He said, "You know, MJ, I have never thanked you for the letter you wrote to my daughter after her last miscarriage. She said she carried your letter around with her in her purse for a long time."

Mrs. Thompson's face lit up, "That letter was from you?"

I was genuinely embarrassed. I did not want to score points out of such an awful experience. The Thompson's daughter had tried _in vitro_ but had given up after four miscarriages. I had spontaneously written the woman a letter when I heard about her ordeal. I had no idea the she had shared my letter with her parents.

As if reading her mind, Mrs. Thompson added, "You should know that Carolyn never shared with us the contents of your letter. All she told us was that she was greatly comforted by your message and deeply touched that you would take the time to reach out to her."

I nodded and blushed. I took a deep breath and searched the table all but pleading with someone to change the subject. Mr. Thompson took the challenge. He leaned forward to Christian and said, "I understand that you and MJ have known each other for a long time. How did you meet?"

Christian was making a valiant but not altogether successful attempt to avoid looking as miserable as he felt. He said, "I met MJ in our second year of law school."

He paused as if considering whether or not to continue and then said, "MJ and Annette had been best friends since elementary school. MJ introduced me to Annette."

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson both nodded. Geoff and his fiancée were whispering to each other. Annette looked as though she wanted to clobber Christian. He had just added another jewel to my crown. Mrs. Thompson turned to Annette and asked, "Mrs. Davis, how did you meet MJ?"

Annette was not used to being addressed directly at firm functions. Typically once people found out she was a homemaker, they tended to ignore her. That always infuriated me, but Annette never seemed to mind. At least it meant she did not have to participate in what was all too often totally inane conversation.

Mrs. Thompson called herself a homemaker, but she was in a different league than Annette. Mrs. Thompson was the daughter of a prominent surgeon. Mr. Thompson's father had been managing partner of F&J when he was young. Mrs. Thompson was a rich "society" lady who had probably never cleaned a toilet in her life. She had always had domestic help. She spent her days doing charity work. I hoped Annette would not launch into one of her tirades about how that was functionally no different than women who worked full time. Annette was a bit of a snob about women who had help taking care of their own children and homes. It occurred to me for the first time that she probably looked down on me for that as well.

Annette was quiet for long enough that everyone at the table began to squirm in their seats and appear uncomfortable. Finally she said softly, "Sorry. I guess I am not used to talking at firm functions. You took me by surprise." She looked at me and I saw a strange expression pass over her face. It looked a lot like love to me.

"I met Mary Jo when we were in Junior High. Our lockers were next to each other and we were both in the same home room. MJ's family had moved from Indiana that summer, but from seventh grade on, we were pretty much inseparable. MJ was an only child. I was from a large, noisy, ebullient brood. MJ and I were sort of opposites who attracted. She was smart and got straight A's. I managed to pass my academic subjects, but my special passions were sports and art. I wanted to be a painter, if you can imagine that.

"We had a great time in high school. For some reason, neither of us was particularly interested in boys. That was probably a blessing because boys weren't exactly beating a path to our doors. MJ decided from the first day of high school that she was going to graduate first in our class with perfect marks. She had little time for anything besides studying. I was into sports. I played basketball, tennis and soft ball.

"She was a smart nerd and I was a female jock."

I laughed and commented, "Until our senior year."

Annette giggled, and we looked at each other across the table. Our current difficulties were left aside as the years melted away and we were once again high school chums.

Everyone at the table leaned forward. Mr. Houston's girlfriend asked, "What happened your senior year?"

Annette and I smiled at each other for a long minute and we both exclaimed, "Anton LeBlanc!"

Annette smiled to herself. "Anton was an exchange student from Lyon, France. He stayed with a family in Mary Jo's neighborhood. He flirted madly with every girl he met, including us. We knew he was so far out of our league, neither of us had a chance to date him so we befriended him. That didn't keep us each from being in love with him, in our own way.

"Anton was a long distance runner, so he and I did jock things together. He was also a brilliant student, so he and Mary Jo did smart-kid things together like hanging out at the library. They event went to lectures at UC, for God's sake." She chuckled. "We sort of shared him."

You laughed and said, "You should hear his side of that story!" I laughed out loud.

Annette looked stupefied and sputtered, "You've talked to him?"

I asked, "You mean you haven't kept in touch with him?"

Annette looked shocked, "Of course not. I guess I did for a while, but after I married Christian, I sort of lost touch with Anton. Mary Jo, you never mentioned that you had continued to be in touch with him."

I laughed, "Actually, I sort of handed him off to Frank. I stayed in contact with him for a long time. He became a doctor and got married. He lives in Normandy, about 40 miles or so from Paris. The first time Frank had to go to France after we got married, I put him in touch with Anton. They apparently hit it off like gangbusters. They've been best buds ever since. I get emails from Anton occasionally, but mostly Frank keeps me apprised of his activities."

You made a self-deprecating gesture that looked a lot like a French shrug and said, "You have to understand. Anton is a dermatologist. I'm in the skin-care business. We had some natural common ground. The fact that he has been able to provide me with so much rich background information on my wife in her youth has been something of a bonus."

I made a face and bumped you with my shoulder, "You can keep all that 'background information' to yourself."

Mrs. Thompson laughed and said, "Oh but that might be the most interesting part!"

You grinned and said, "Actually it isn't. Apparently Mary Jo and Annette were just as boring and goody-goody as they claim to have been. At least according to what Anton has told me."

Annette and I grinned at each other and feigned wiping sweat from our brows. "Whew!"

That changed the tone of the conversation, which was very light through the rest of dinner. I noticed that Annette participated in the conversation and seemed animated and even happy. Something had changed in her, but I couldn't tell just what it was. Christian didn't contribute to the conversation at all. He barely looked up from his plate.

By the end of the evening, I was certain I had the partnership in my pocket. I couldn't bring myself to take much satisfaction, however, because with it came the death of my friendships with Christian and Annette. I knew from the sad but hard look deep in Annette's eyes as we said good night that the light-hearted reminiscing earlier had been only a temporary reprieve. Our relationship had disintegrated beyond repair.

I knew before we left the club that evening that I would be celebrating my promotion without my best friends.

Chapter 3

Mary Jo stretched and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the chaise. "Am I an idiot or what?"

Frank didn't answer. His face was in the shadow. Mary Jo stood up and said, "I'm going to put Lissy to bed. Then I'm going to open a bottle of wine. After that, I will get quietly drunk while you tell me your version of the story."

Mary Jo gave Melissa her bath, and then Frank read her a story while Mary Jo opened a bottle of wine and set out some cheese and crackers on a tray. When Frank walked into the kitchen, Mary Jo looked up and said, "Do you want to go back out by the pool, or stay in here."

He opened the door to the patio and said, "It's getting too chilly out by the pool, but it ought to be okay out here on the lanai. I'll light the chiminaria while you finish up there."

A few minutes later, she pushed a serving cart next to his chair and poured each of them a glass of wine. They ate some cheese. Mary Jo had a light blanket over her arm. She said, "This is in case your story runs long and we get cold."

They had spent the afternoon lying side-by-side on a dual chaise by the pool. There was no such chair on the lanai, so they pushed two lounge chairs together.

Frank stacked up some cheese and crackers, stalling as long as he could. Finally he tossed back about half a glass of wine and said, "Okay, here goes. You know how much I hate talking about myself, but you have been very honest. I owe you the same courtesy."

Chapter 4 – Frank's Version

I'm going to start at the beginning as well. You used to ask me about my early life, and I always blew you off. In recent years you stopped asking, but today you said you've remained curious. I owe it to you to tell you at least a little of my story. I hate to talk about my youth. It is just so damned hard to talk about...

Anyway, here's the Reader's Digest version of my life BMJ (before Mary Jo) to set the stage for my real life which started the day I met you.

As you know I was born and grew up in South Boston. My dad worked as a maintenance man at Fenway Park. My mom was a homemaker; back then we called her a housewife. I have a sister who is thirteen months older than me. Because of a long illness when she was a baby, my sister did not start school on time. She entered kindergarten the same year I did. We ended up being classmates all through school. Most people thought we were twins and after a while we gave up trying to convince them otherwise. Actually, once we were old enough to learn about sex and we came to understand how it was that we were born so close in age, we thought that was so disgusting we rather encouraged people to think we were twins.

I had the normal working class upbringing, and probably would have ended up as a truck driver or mechanic but for a couple of key things.

After I was born my mom couldn't have more kids. Mom never shared with me the reason for that (and I would never have asked) but she always said that she felt it was God's blessing. A super-devout Catholic, Mom went to church every single morning of her life and took every word that fell from the lips of any priest as Gospel. She knew that the Church's position on birth control was wrong but my mother was the kind of Catholic who obeyed the Church's rules, even when she disagreed with them. Whatever the cause of her reproductive problem, she was not unhappy about her infertility.

Most of her friends and all of the priests pitied her. She didn't care. Her physical problem meant that Mom wasn't pregnant and exhausted from child rearing all the time. She poured all her love and devotion on Bridgette and me, especially me.

I hate to say this, but it's true: my mother was one of those women who value their sons more than their daughters. She loved Bridgette, but she saw her daughter more as a companion and helper in the care and feeding of my dad and me than as a beloved child. Early on, she enlisted Bridgette as a her assistant in spoiling me. I grew up on a pedestal, pampered, doted on and spoiled positively rotten. I don't think I ever so much as buttered my own toast until I was an adult.

Needless to say, I liked it! I understood from a fairly early age that it would be difficult to find a woman who would treat me as well as Mom and Bridgette did. That worried me because I loved being pampered and I really did sort of fantasize about finding a wife who would continue the practice.

When I was about ten years old, my dad took me to work with him one day. He had broken a rib in a fall at work and he needed help bending and lifting things. Today a company would never allow that, but a lot of the guys in our neighborhood enlisted their kids to help them out at work when they were sick or hurt rather than miss a day's pay. Some of the guys who worked at Fenway brought their sons just to give them a backstage look at the ballpark that is kind of like Jerusalem to baseball fans everywhere. Don't look at me like that. Alright, it's Jerusalem to American League fans who aren't stupid enough to pray in the direction of Yankee Stadium.

Anyway, Dad took me to work with him almost every day that summer, even after his ribs got better. I loved working at Fenway! I don't have to tell you how passionate I am about the Red Sox. I was even worse then. Don't laugh. You think I'm bad now; I was horrible then.

My summer at Fenway was, therefore, totally heavenly. Some evenings we would stay and watch the games. The club permitted employees to watch the games for free if we stood in certain parts of the grandstand. Sometimes for a special treat, Dad bought tickets in the bleachers. One day toward the end of the summer, Dad's boss asked us to unload a truck and move some equipment into the training room. I didn't think there was anything odd about the request, but my dad grinned all the way down the hall.

I understood why he was so excited when we walked into the training room and I found myself surrounded by virtually the entire Red Sox team. Oh my God! I could barely breathe. The players shook my hand and tousled my hair.

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any better, the manager walked over to me and said, "I hear you have spent most of your summer helping out around here and doing a great job. Since you're too young for the team to pay you, we thought we'd give you a special treat before you go back to school. How'd you like to watch the game tonight... from the Sox bench?"

I almost passed out from excitement. I couldn't talk. I looked at my dad and raised my eyebrows. He nodded and grinned. I stammered something to the manager, nodding like a bobble head. I don't remember who won that game or even who the Sox played. What I paid attention to all evening was how the players acted and how they were treated. That was back in the days before baseball players' salaries went completely crazy, but the stars were paid very well. Even the journeymen players made good money, at least by the standards of the folks in my neighborhood. They carried themselves like people who were used to being pampered, waited on and spoiled. That got my attention.

I didn't have what it took to be an athlete. I knew I could never be a baseball player. But, somehow I knew that one of the reasons people catered so to the players was because they had a lot of money. I decided that evening, sitting on the Red Sox bench, that I was not going to settle for a blue collar job that would permit me to support a small family by pinching pennies and/or working two jobs. I decided I wanted to go for the brass ring. I'm afraid you'll consider it shallow, but my principal goal in life was to make a lot of money.

I started reading biographies of successful people when I was in junior high school. I studied the lives of the rich and successful as a way of casting about for a vocation and picking up tips for making money.

I wisely kept my materialistic ambitions from my parents. I'm sure my dad would have considered it a criticism of his ability to support our family. My mother, the religious fanatic, wanted me to become a priest. She imposed a lot of pressure, not to mention guilt, in trying to get me to move in that direction. Eventually, I convinced her that I really wanted to get married and have children. That was a total lie at that point, but it got her off my back about going to seminary.

My lie backfired, however. Immediately after giving up on her dream of sending me to seminary, Mom launched a search for a wife for me. My mother paraded the daughters of all of her friends and acquaintances in front of me throughout high school. It was a pain in the ass in many ways, but the upside was that I never lacked for dates. Granted those dates were all with Catholic teen-agers trolling for a husband. Every date was fraught with danger to a kid who had "Other Plans." Somehow I managed to keep my hormones under control and avoid entrapment, much to my mother's consternation.

Until she was about twelve, my sister was a beautiful child. She looked like one of those Irish children you see in travel ads inviting people to visit the Old Sod. She had such thick curls, Bridgette cried every time Mom shampooed her hair and tried to comb out the tangles. Her eyes are the same shade of green as mine, but her hair was jet black. Her perfectly straight teeth made me crazy. I needed braces but my family couldn't afford them, so I ended up living my whole life with crooked, snaggly teeth. As a child, she was a beauty in every way but Bridgette's most fabulous feature was her skin. She had that milky, peachy complexion that no skin care product in the world can create. It comes naturally or it doesn't come at all.

When Bridgette hit puberty her complexion went to hell. Hers wasn't just ordinary adolescent acne: she looked like a burn victim. As much as I loved her, sometimes even I had trouble looking at her. It broke my heart. She was pitifully self-conscious. Mom and the nuns made the situation worse by criticizing her about what they called her vanity. Their answer to every god-damned thing in life was to "offer it up," whatever the hell that meant. I didn't know and I was afraid to ask. None of them ever seemed to notice or care how much emotional pain the kid was in.

Bridgette received no help or support whatsoever from our mom, her teachers, the nuns or anybody else besides me – and I was of no real help either other than simply acknowledging her pain and caring about it. She suffered through high school looking like something out of a freak show. Needless to say no boy ever asked her on a date, so she did what you might expect her to do given her background and environment: she started going to church with Mom every day and sometimes several times a day. The church had the advantage of being relatively dark, she kept her head bowed most of the time, and she often prayed with her face in her hands, which of course only made her acne worse, but we didn't know that at the time.

Since I had made it known that hell would freeze over before I would go to the Church, Mom shifted her attention to Bridgette, who turned out to be a willing victim. Bridgette believed she was unlikely to attract a husband, so a convent seemed to be the perfect alternative.

Unfortunately, Mom's scheme to turn Bridgette into a nun backfired on all of us. Mom expected Bridgette to enter the local Franciscan convent where she would be educated as a teacher or a nurse. I think Mom expected her to more or less stay in the neighborhood. That was not an unreasonable expectation. One of the girls down the street did just that. After high school she ended up teaching in the same elementary school she attended as a kid, living in the convent in the neighborhood church and eating Sunday dinner with her parents every weekend. Mom expected Bridgette to follow that path. Thus, Mom could give a child to the Church without losing her daughter.

Bridgette had other ideas. The day after we graduated from high school, she informed my parents she planned to join the Carmelites. Oh, my God did that ever stir up a shit storm at our house! Since you're not Catholic, let me explain. Bridgette intended to join a cloistered order which maintained some of the strictest rules of any religious order in the Catholic Church. The order maintained almost total silence and extreme withdrawal from the world. Once she went behind the cloister wall, Bridgette would not be permitted to communicate with us in any way for a year. After that, she would be allowed to send us a letter once or twice a year. We could send her greetings at Christmas and Easter. After a few years her family was allowed to visit her once a year or so, but the visits are monitored by another nun and we are not allowed to hug her or touch her in any way.

My dad was furious. He blamed Mom for turning Bridgette into a religious fanatic. I sided with Dad. I begged and pleaded and yelled at Bridgette and – I am truly sorry to say – at my mom, too. Poor Mom suffered so; she felt guilty enough, but Dad and I made it worse. If the commotion bothered Bridgette, she didn't show it. She had made up her mind and she refused to be swayed by all our drama.

We took her to the monastery on a Friday. I'll never forget the parting words from the novice mistress as we left. She told us that we would be better off if we thought of Bridgette as dead. In a way she was dead, because they took away all her personal property, her right to any inheritance from our family and they even took away her very name. Bridgette Bennett was, in many ways, truly dead to us.

As an aside, I'll tell you something funny mainly to keep myself from weeping. The name they gave her was Sister Mary Josephus. She always signs her letters "Sister Mary Jo." I think that's funny. The two women I love most in the world are both named Mary Jo. I have to confess that I'm such a bastard, I still address letters to her as "Bridgette Bennett". Sometimes she gets them. Sometimes the convent returns them to me as "addressee unknown." Depends on which witch opens the mail, I suppose. Oh, well, I guess that humorous aside backfired, now I feel even worse ....

Anyway, after Bridgette walled herself in the convent, I enrolled at Boston College as a pre-med major.

At some point in high school after watching my sister and some of our friends suffer with acne, I decided to become a dermatologist. I calculated it would accomplish my purpose of making a lot of money and it would have as a beneficial side effect the potential for helping some unfortunate kids through a bad time in their lives. My parents were thrilled at the prospect of me becoming a doctor. Mom, who had never worked for wages, took a job as a cleaning lady at a local public school to help with the tuition. Dad got me a part time job as an assistant grounds keeper at Fenway that summer.

Putting me through medical school became a family project. Even Bridgette got on board. We received a message, via the novice mistress, that Bridgette and the entire convent were praying for me. Even as irreligious as I am, I have to confess it has always made me feel good to know that I have a convent full of good women praying for me. I feel as though somebody has my back.

At that point, things were looking good for me, if you ignore the part about Bridgette being locked up in a cloister. I earned excellent grades: in fact, I got straight A's in every class all three quarters of my first year in college. I already had visions of medical school scholarships. I even let my imagination go totally wild at times and imagined myself going to Harvard. A couple of times I went up to Cambridge and stood on the steps of the medical school imagining what it might be like to walk through those doors and not get thrown out for trespassing.

Those were heady days, I'll tell you.

They came to a screeching, flaming end about half way through the fall term of my sophomore year. When my parents were returning home after a weekend trip to see the fall leaves up in New Hampshire a drunk driver entered the freeway going the wrong way and hit their car head on. The vehicles crashed at 55 mph and both virtually disintegrated upon impact. All three of the people in the cars died instantly, their bodies cremated in the inferno.

Our parish priest insisted on holding a memorial service. I told him to go ahead. Both my parents came from huge Irish families. My mother being a religious freak and very active in our parish, I am sure that the church was packed to overflowing for the funeral Mass. I don't know. I didn't go to the funeral. I went to class instead.

My paternal grandfather called me that evening and gave me eighteen kinds of hell and demanded to know where I had been. I told him I did what I knew my parents would want me to do: I went to a class that they had scrimped and sacrificed to pay for. He yelled at me for five minutes and then he told me that he never wanted to see me again.

I said, "Fine."

I have not communicated with any member of my family other than Bridgette since that day. In retrospect, I realize it was a serious case of cutting off my nose to spite my face. I know that now. But, I have to admit I don't really regret it. I have never missed them. The truth is, I always felt like a freak in my family even before that. Family gathering in both Mom's family and Dad's were raucous affairs. The adults drank a lot after which they would engage in loud obnoxious arguments often just for the hell of it. Dozens of little kids ran around making noise and leaving messes in their wake. I hated family gatherings.

Mom ran our household like a convent. God help us if either Bridgette or I ran or made noise in the house. Leaving behind a mess was unthinkable, even for one as spoiled and pampered as me. My mother's religious zealotry demanded sacrifice and constant prayer. My dad's hatred for alcohol, which grew out of a childhood spend in the home of two drunks, would make a Baptist proud. Neither of my parents ever drank. Dad smoked for a long time but eventually he quit even that. Compared with the borderline chaos of our relatives' homes, our house was a refuge.

I despised clan gatherings because the people were so god-damned loud and boisterous all the time. Bridgette hated them even more because the relatives made fun of her. Even the adults participated in teasing her cruelly. I hated them for that. There is no excuse for adults to humiliate a child. Ever.

After Mom and Dad died, I had no special ties to the family and, after my little altercation with Grandpop, I just walked away from them. I have never missed them and I'd lay odds they don't miss me, but I'd bet that my failure to show up at my parents' funeral and subsequent abandonment of the family probably still gives them something to yell and swear about when they get liquored up. I can't manage to care.

I sold my parents' house and invested the money along with the proceeds of their meager life insurance policies. Bridgette was not permitted to collect her share of the inheritance. She suggested I give her half to the Church. I was of the opinion that our family had already given too damned much to the Church, so I put it in the bank and kept it all. Between my inheritance and financial aid, I would have been able to finish college, although medical school looked very iffy. I moved into a cheap apartment and entered a work study program. I spent every moment of my life either studying or working. You have been there and done that, too.

Actually, it wasn't too bad. I loved school. I didn't have the money or really the interest in amusement and entertainment at that time. I never thought of what I was doing as grieving, but I know now that I grieved the loss of my sister and my parents for a long, long time.

I had dated a little in high school, mostly girls I went to school with, thanks to Mom's marry-my-son campaign. Those girls all wanted to get married and start having kids right away. No small number of them were willing to make the baby first to insure that he marriage would follow. Partly due to fear of my mother – whose wrath was always a much more fearsome thing to me than God's – I managed to turn down all of those offers. During my first year of college I dated enough to know that there were girls out there who were interested in things other than marriage and children. I had a lot of fun in my freshman year. After my parents died, I walled myself up in my studies and my work. I didn't date because, frankly, I didn't want to spend the little money I had on anything but my education.

My grades fell a little after my parents' deaths, partly due to the fact that I was working and partly due to the fact that I was an emotional wreck. Still I made the Dean's list which allowed me to be eligible for a really cool internship between my Sophomore and Junior years. I had enrolled as a pre-med student, which involved a lot of science. My original plan was to become a dermatologist, so I took a lot of chemistry classes. I loved chemistry. I wasn't much of a people-person even before Bridgette went away and my parents were killed. After that, I pretty much hated people altogether. Fortunately for my future success, I was able to admit to myself, before I got too far down that road, that I'd make one really shitty doctor. I might know my science, but my bedside manner would leave a lot to be desired. I'd probably starve to death because I wouldn't have any patients. I knew I should rethink the idea of becoming a doctor.

That summer, I was offered an internship at a cosmetics research lab near Cincinnati. The furthest west I had ever traveled was Lexington, Massachusetts, on a high school field trip. I could barely find Ohio on the map and I confess I was afflicted with the New Englanders' disdain for all things Midwestern. Nevertheless, I accepted the job without a moment's hesitation.

It was one of the best moves I ever made in my life. I loved working in the lab, and decided I might like to become a chemist instead of a doctor. The money wasn't as good as a doctor's salary, but I would be able to make a very decent living. I considered backing off my original goal of wanting to get rich. I thought it was high time I set some more realistic goals.

When it was time to go back to school in the fall, I decided I had no reason to go back to Boston. I transferred to the University of Cincinnati and landed a paying job in the lab part-time while I went to school full-time. I got my bachelor's degree and followed a year later with a M.S. I immediately started working on my Ph.D. I never finished it because events intervened before I finished my dissertation.

I totally loved my job and planned to spend the rest of my life as a science nerd blowing up shit in the chemistry lab. I made some equally nerdy friends, both at work and school. I even had a kind of nerdy girlfriend-of-sorts who was a math major. We weren't serious about each other, but we were good friends and it was sometimes convenient to have a companion, so we sort of had a "friends with benefits" arrangement that lasted until she graduated and got a job as an actuary for an insurance company in Columbus.

I've never been sure what that is exactly. From what she told me, it sounded like hell, but she enjoyed it. We kept in fairly close touch until she met an underwriter and they got married. I still get Christmas cards from her. You know, Tina, the one who encloses photos all her kids who look exactly alike.

At one point the lab developed a really cool new skin care product. It was one of the first of the alpha-hydroxy products. We thought of it as sort of a hormone cream for post-menopausal women, although we recognized even at the time it probably had wider applications. We pitched it to several cosmetic companies, one of which was Arielle. They sent out a group of folks from New York to listen to our presentation. Because I worked on the team that developed the product, the company let me sit in on the presentation. I was the youngest of the scientists. The older, more senior guys were not about to talk to a bunch of marketing people. They made me be the spokesman for the chemistry team. I was so excited about the product, I babbled something and, amazingly, we made the sale.

A week or so later, one of the people from Arielle's marketing department called me and offered me a job. They liked the part I played in the presentation, especially my passion for both the product and the science behind its development. They said liked having marketing people with scientific backgrounds. They especially liked the fact that I lived and worked in the Midwest. It would have been better if I had been an Ohio native, but they were not in a position to be picky. The people from Ohio with the qualifications they were looking for already had jobs with one of the half dozen cosmetics companies already doing business in the Midwest.

Arielle did almost zero business in the U. S. at that time outside of New York City and L. A. The company wanted to expand. They asked me to open a market in Ohio as a wedge into the Midwest. I agreed to try, although I told them quite frankly that I knew nothing about marketing and wasn't sure I had the personality for sales.

They said that was fine. I was a chemist. I understood the science behind how the products worked. They said they could teach me the sales part. If, after training, I couldn't cut it in sales, they promised to find me a job in their research unit. Because I was a complete idiot and knew nothing about how corporations actually work, I believed that and I took the job.

First they put me through an extensive training program. They sent me to Paris for six months of corporate indoctrination. That was an eye-opening experience to a kid from South Boston, let me tell you! I fell in love with Paris, with France and with Arielle after about a day and a half.

When I came back to the States they had me shadow their marketing person in New York. I spent nine months following her around her territory which consisted mostly of upscale stores in Manhattan. It was frustrating always just watching and not participating, but it was an eye-opening experience to bump up against New York's elite. I paid attention and I learned a lot, however. Virginia was an amazing salesperson. She was also kind and generous. She taught me all her tricks. She helped me learn how to dress and how to behave among our target clientèle. She set me on the path to success.

Eventually, they sent me back to Ohio with a very decent base salary and the promise of big money from commissions if I could actually sell anything, plus bonuses for meeting specified goals all of which seemed utterly unattainable to me.

I got off to kind of a rough start because I had never tried to sell anything before and there were few really high end brands doing business in Ohio at the time. I learned quickly that what worked in New York did not necessarily work in Ohio. The Ohioans who bought high end cosmetics either bought them in New York or Europe, or they bought one of the two or three brands already on sale here. Initially, I was afraid there was no market for Arielle in Ohio.

Turns out there was one. It was just sleeping. Once we woke it up, it turned into an engine that even today drives a remarkable sales success story. The first few months, I made a lot of contacts but no sales. The second six months, I made a few sales. By my second year, I had stumbled across some techniques that worked, and my sales started growing. Before long, my sales in Ohio outstripped the sales in L. A. They added Indiana to my territory. Even I didn't think I could sell Arielle in Indiana. I was wrong. We did great in Indianapolis and up near Chicago. We also did super business around the universities.

I decided to target recent graduates and young professionals. It was the early 1980's. The Reagan years were all about appearances and spending money. Boomers were starting to have some early career success. They (we) had some disposable money, and the women wanted to spend some of their money on cosmetics. I'm not sure if Arielle timed its entry into the wider marketplace brilliantly or if it was just dumb luck, but sales were amazing. My region beat every quota they set for me by more than double year in and year out for a long time.

I was a holy terror in many ways. I loved the work I did and I believed in the product I sold. I was making money for the company by the bucketful, and I sort of thought I was hot stuff. I behaved like an ass, to be honest. For one thing, I had very little regard for the models, who were often shallow, stupid women who often made it worse by being mean and nasty with other women and with me. I learned that the nastier I was back to them the more they wanted to work with me. In the company I was known as "the crazy bastard in the Midwest." I was nice to the clients, at least most of the time, but I was horrible to the models and not much better behaved with my superiors at Arielle. The clients seemed to like dealing with a flamboyant crazy-man. Sometimes I was even mean to them. The meaner I was, the higher my sales grew.

At one point, I had a team of two models with whom I worked quite a lot. They were both pretty good actresses. In fact, one of them ended up becoming an actress. The other one got wise. She married a landscape painter and now makes ceramic jewelry somewhere in Colorado. Anyway the three of us had a whole shtick we did at every sales presentation. I'd yell at them. They would yell back and call me names. We would stage horrible arguments during make up demos. It got a lot of attention. Once we had the potential client's attention, we almost always made a sale because our products were that good.

It was amazing. I was making as much money as some baseball players, and I did it by selling makeup: wining and dining clients at fancy marketing events and hanging out with beautiful women. I especially liked doing store demonstrations where I got to do makeup demos on regular women off the street. I love to show women who think they are average looking how beautiful they can be. One of my greatest success stories in that area is sitting in front of me right now.

By the time I met you I was making about $700,000 a year plus bonuses.

Quit laughing.

It's true and nobody in this world would ever believe that you didn't know that until now. You never asked how much money I made despite the fact that, while we were dating, I showed off and preened and made a big deal about how rich I was. When we got married and agreed to keep our finances separate and to separately fund our household accounts, I expected you to at least ask how much money I had. When we signed the prenuptial agreement setting forth how we would divide up joint property in the event of death or divorce, I expected you to ask how much we were talking about. When we prepared our wills and the trust for Melissa, I couldn't believe you did not ask how much money was involved. You're a lawyer. You are usually full of questions about everything. But, you are also a true Zinzinnati Cherman. You do not talk about money – yours or anybody else's.

Oh, and just for the record, I make a lot more than that now. I'm well up in the seven figure range these days, just in case you're curious. I said, quit laughing.

Anyway, by the late 1980's I had achieved my goal of becoming rich, at least by my standards. I thought I was really all that. I had a fabulous multi-level apartment in Mt. Adams with a view of the city and the river from a balcony on each level. I wore French- and Italian-made clothes that I bought in Paris on my frequent trips to the home office. I wore nothing but Italian shoes. I had not one but two Rolex watches: one for every day and one for when I was trying to impress potential clients or get laid.

I did not own a car because I traveled so much. I had owned a broken down used Rambler American when I worked at the lab. Shortly after I took the job at Arielle it gave up the ghost. I did not replace it. I took cabs to and from the airport and when I was in town I could get pretty much everything I needed either within walking distance from my apartment or on the bus. I may have been the only executive in Cincinnati at the time who got around town using public transportation, but, remember, I am from Boston. My family never owned a car. We used public transportation. The vehicle my dad was driving when he and Mom were killed was a rental car.

When I traveled I usually rented luxury cars and I especially liked to drive Mercedes. One day I saw an add in the Cincinnati _Enquirer_ for a new Mercedes sports car, and I decided to buy one. The one I ordered had red exterior and a white leather interior, with a convertible top. It was absurdly expensive, but I had plenty of disposable cash and nothing to spend it on but me. I had arranged that, on the day I was to take delivery, I would take the most beautiful woman I knew in the city to dinner at La Normandy. It would give me the opportunity to show off all my goodies. I wore an Armani suit, a tailor-made silk shirt and the diamond Rolex.

I picked up the car and headed toward the woman's house. At the last minute, I decided to stop for a bottle of wine to take with me. To be completely honest, I expected to get lucky that night. I thought the wine might come in handy in case she wasn't enough of a car freak for the Mercedes to sufficiently arouse her.

On my way out of the grocery store, I had my first encounter with you. I guess it would not be technically true to say that I fell in love with you that day. I actually fell in love with you on our first date. You got my attention right off the bat, however. Big Time. I saw you backing out of the parking space. I stopped and blew my horn. That only confused you and you continued to roll back hitting my fender despite my attempts to warn you off. The damage was minor, but it was a fucking brand new $75,000 car, the first new car I had ever owned. I jumped out from behind the wheel with murder on my mind. You were out of your car and running back towards me faster than I could believe.

Two things struck me immediately, and I still find it hard to believe either one. One was that you never apologized for wrecking my brand new god-damned Mercedes! Not once. Not ever, I might add. I know now that your legal training would not have allowed you to admit fault for an accident. I just thought it was odd. Actually, it sort of pissed me off. I thought I at least deserved an apology.

The thing that got my attention even more was that you didn't even glance at the car. You ran up to me, looked into my eyes and said, "Are you okay, Mister?" with such deep concern I thought I might cry. The last time a woman had looked into my eyes and expressed such genuine concern for me personally was when I broke my ankle during gym class when I was a senior in high school. My mom came busting into the nurse's office with that same look on her face. Every other woman who had ever gazed into my eyes in between those two events wanted something.

I thought your compassion was even stranger than your lack of contrition, but in a hypnotic kind of way. I purposely preened in front of you. I straightened my expensive jacket. I checked the time on my diamond Rolex. You didn't seem to notice. All you seemed to care about was whether or not I was okay.

You took out your business card and wrote your insurance information on the back and promised to report the claim immediately. You fussed again about whether or not I was injured. Then you seemed to realize for the first time the car might be damaged. You asked if it was drivable and offered me a ride, if it wasn't. It did not seem to register with you that it was a luxury car.

A couple of weeks later, I called you at work because I could not get you out of my mind. I told you the damage had been fixed and thanked you for reporting the claim so promptly. You laughed and said, "Yeah. No problem. Now my rates will definitely go up. I finally got my last speeding ticket off my record and expected my premium to go down. So what do I do? I get in the first accident I've ever had in my life. And what do I hit? Not somebody's old beat up pickup truck. I hit a freaking brand new German sports car, for God's sake!"

I loved your quirky sense of the absurd. I was on the verge of asking you out at that point, but for some reason in order to simply prolong the conversation, I mentioned that your business card gave your name as M. J. Heinrich. I asked what MJ stood for. You seemed reluctant to answer but finally you said you were named after your grandmother, Mary Josephine. You said, "Bet you've never met a real honest-to-god Mary Jo before. Huh?"

I laughed, "On the contrary. I'm from South Boston. In my neighborhood the Mary Jo's were outnumbered only by the Mary Margaret's."

I was about to end the conversation at that point because it was a cardinal rule with me never to date Catholic girls. They were too much trouble. They were either religious zealots like my mother who wanted a zillion kids to prove their faithfulness or they were damaged in some way that was even worse. You interrupted that thought with a loud open-throated laugh that made me know you had tossed back your head and let it really rip, and you said, "Oh, yeah? We'll I'll bet I'm the first Mary Jo you've ever met who isn't Catholic."

Somehow, I managed to retort, "I didn't know that was possible."

"I'm probably the only Presbyterian Mary Jo ever in the history of the world. My Irish Catholic mother gave up her religion when she married my dad and moved to Indiana, but she named me after her grandmother -- over everyone's objections, I might add."

As soon as I could breathe again, I asked you to have dinner with me. You said you were busy with depositions that week, but asked for a rain check for the following week if that would be convenient. In my world it was unusual for a woman not to accept my invitations immediately. You were clearly not a part of my world. I was intrigued.

I told you I would call you when I got back into town the following week. I asked if I should call at work or at home. You laughed and said you were a lowly associate in a big law firm, which meant you only went home to shower and change clothes. You told me the best place to reach you was at work.

I called you the following Thursday to nail down plans. I asked if you would like to have dinner at the Maisonette on Friday. There was a very long pause. Eventually you giggled like a teenager and said, "Well, if you're a total foodie and French food is your thing, that's fine. Personally, while I appreciate that it is a very fine restaurant, it's just too fancy for my taste. The waiters make me feel like a dweeb and there's too much butter in everything. To be honest, I'm more of a pizza and beer kind of gal, if it's all the same to you."

It is quite possible I started to fall in love with you during that conversation. I loved your honesty and your directness! I still do. As you will recall, we ended up having pizza and beer at a restaurant near your apartment. When I walked you home I could not believe where you lived. It looked like a dorm room. I must have looked puzzled. You made a face and said, "Well, you see I have not exactly gotten around to moving out of my student quarters and into a proper apartment."

"How long have you been out of law school?"

"Two years."

I didn't say anything but the look on my face must have been pretty clear. You looked so sheepish, I was embarrassed that I made you feel bad. It didn't seem to bother you. As a matter of fact, you shrugged and said, "I'm sort of a workaholic. I don't spend very much time at home anyway."

Do you remember how we talked nearly all night? Before I left in the wee hours, I invited you to my apartment for dinner the next day. Since I don't cook, I suggested take out Thai which we could eat while watching the sunset. You had never had Thai food before and you loved it. I loved watching you sample the various dishes. As you tasted the complex spices, the experience played over your face. It was about the most sensual thing I've ever witnessed. I love how even now you seek out exotic foods and new spices and savor them with such naked pleasure.

You loved my apartment and I have to confess to you it was all I could do not to show you how completely insane I was by inviting you to move in with me that night. Hell, for all I know you were insane enough at that point to have accepted the invitation! We moved pretty fast as it was. I couldn't imagine what had got into me. I had never fallen for a woman like I fell for you. Then again, I had never met a woman like you before.

You were totally too good to be true. You were an almost stereotypical fresh-faced Midwestern girl, honest and forthright. It was hard for me to believe you could possibly be a lawyer. When I found out you were considered to be a real tiger, I was amazed. You came across to me as the girl next door filled with wonder, joy and brimming with life. I couldn't believe you could be such a killer in the courtroom.

We got way too serious way too fast, at least in the opinion of most of the people who knew you.

Your parents were very gracious but it was clear they were not happy about your interest in me. I was too old. Your mother asked some very pointed questions. She never accused me of being married, but she clearly thought I must be divorced, possibly with an ex-wife collecting alimony and a passel of kids to support. She seemed pleased when I blatantly campaigned for her blessing, swearing to her that I had never been married or even been close to it. I moved up a few notches in her estimation when I stressed how eager I was to get married and start a family. I told her that I had concentrated all my efforts on building my career to the point that I was very successful and I was looking for someone with whom to share my life and my fortune. I made it clear I really, really wanted children.

While I confess it was a naked attempt to butter her up, it also had the advantage of being the truth. Your mother was no pushover, but eventually I won her over. While she accepted me and has always been very nice, I am almost sure she has ever put aside her reservations about the twenty year difference in our ages. That is not a big deal to us now. Your mother thinks is may become a big deal in the future.

I think we both know that your mother is probably right about that, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Anyway, your mom came around.

Your dad has always been pleasant, but I don't think that in his eyes any man would ever be good enough for you. I have never held that against him. It seems to me to be the natural and appropriate response of a good father to any man who wants to screw his Little Girl.

By way of advance warning, I pity any poor bastard who comes around here and wants to mess around with Melissa!

Anyway, there were other challenges to our potential relationship as well. I can't say I wasn't warned about the dangers of going out with you. A couple of weeks after you and I started dating, we stopped at the Bar Association for some kind of cocktail reception. I think it was a fund-raiser of some sort. That was the first night I met Annette and Christian. They were supposed to meet us at the Bar Association and then we were all going out for dinner.

They had not arrived yet. You went to the ladies room or something and I was standing at the bar by myself. A young man walked up to me and asked if I was with you. I told him I was. He asked if it was a date or if I was a relative. Actually, I think he though I might have been your dad. I told him it was a date; he suggested I should be careful. He said that from first hand experience he could tell me that your reputation as ball-buster was not merely well-known but was well-earned. I told him I considered myself warned.

You had told me you had not dated anyone for a long time before we met. I think that may have been partly because you scared off potential suitors. I was always pretty sure you were totally unaware of that. I was mystified by it at the time because I could not imagine the tough side of you at that point. What I have learned since then is that you show your vulnerable, girl-in-awe-of-her-world side to very few people. I am blessed to be one of the lucky few. I have never really figured out why it happened that way unless the accident caused you to let down your defenses and you never picked them back up again where I am concerned.

Maybe your instincts recognized me for a kindred spirit, someone else who rose from modest beginnings to live in world for which neither of us was truly prepared. Whatever it was, I am so grateful for it, I could weep.

My very first meeting with Christian and Annette was not what you would call a love fest, but it didn't go as badly as I feared, actually. We were all on our very best behavior. I had decided in advance that I would use the same tactic on them that I used on your mother: a combination of total honesty with a heavy dose of sucking up. I assumed Annette would be the biggest challenge. As it happens, my routine seemed to work on her initially.

I was surprised to discover that Christian was going to be the bigger hurdle. He made it clear from our first handshake that he had nothing but disdain for me. At the time I thought it was class snobbery, which I am sure was a part of it. I tried a couple of avenues to try to win him over, but I very soon realized that Christian was lost cause.

His animus toward me was more than class snobbery. I think he was (or had been) in love with you. I'd be willing to bet that, before you pawned him off on Annette, he assumed that you and he would end up together. Even as late as the time when we met, I think he still had deep feelings for you. In the intervening years, I think his feelings have changed somewhat; more on that later.

That night, it was pretty clear to me that Christian would not accept me or anyone else as your partner. Even then, Christian knew he could never have you. You had entrusted your beloved Annette to him. You would never do anything to interfere with their relationship. Interestingly he had ended up in a situation that was almost polygamous. You were his his friend, his colleague, his intellectual equal; you were sort of his public partner. Annette was his lover, his housekeeper and the mother of his children; she was his private wife, the lady of the manor.

He knew he didn't have a prayer with you sexually but he sure as hell didn't want anyone else to have you. That much was clear that first evening. As far as I have been able to tell, he has never wavered from that position. He has made every effort to be as pleasant as possible in social settings, and he has always been civil when you are present, but he makes it clear every chance he gets that he loathes me.

For one thing, Christian considers himself my better in almost every way. He was (and is) good looking. I have always looked like a poor Mick who just stepped off the gangplank from steerage, with my moon-face and freckles. Christian was from a socially prominent family; he was well educated, sophisticated and, at least before Annette and he finished pissing away his inheritance, fairly well off. He looked down on me from that first evening. He still does.

For some reason, that night I didn't make a really big issue of my money and my business success. That is surprising because at that stage in my life I was inordinately proud of my prosperity. I tended to like to show off my success. For some reason I can't really explain, I let Christian think what he wanted. He was rude and condescending. Later when he found out that I was well-educated and successful, he disliked me even more. He still looks down on me for being shanty-Irish. He resents the fact that I make more money than he does and the fact that I have you. Resentment and snobbery are all he's got left, I guess, but he clings to them with admirable ferocity.

Annette seemed to be okay with me at first. She's always been a bit of an enigma. You referred earlier to my comments to you about Annette's sibling rivalry with you. I think there is a lot to that. By the same token, I have no doubt that Annette loves you just as much as you love her. She was happy for you when we met, especially as long as she thought you were involved with someone socially beneath Christian, a traveling salesman, of all things. She was happy that you found love and happiness, provided that you did not do better in your marriage than she had done in hers. Since you excelled at nearly everything else in your life, she wanted marriage and family to be her place to shine. Her rivalry with you came to the forefront when you and I got married.

I watched her resentment grow and begin to fester over the years. Our buying this house was a huge issue for her. I think their house is lovely. So do you. Annette did a beautiful job with the renovations. After we got married, we bought this place and fixed it up to our tastes. It is also a wonderful house. It is, however, newer, bigger and in a more prestigious part of town than their house. Annette had plenty of muttered things to say about us throwing our money around on an ostentatious house....

Down girl, I'm not saying that is my opinion. I am saying Annette called it that knowing full well that would be one of the worst insults imaginable for you.

As your career took off and Christian's sort of stalled, Annette became more competitive with you, and she lost on almost every count except where children were concerned. She already had two when we started trying to have a baby. As the months rolled on and we eventually turned to IVF, she felt very superior. I swear to God I think she had Dylan on purpose just to show she was more fertile than you. I wanted to strangle the bitch for that.

The funny thing is that Dylan turned out to be the only one of their kids whom I really like. Naturally Melissa adores her. I think it is somehow perfect that, while Dylan may have been conceived out of Annette's spiteful attempt to show you up, she is the sweetest and best natured of Annette's kids. My mother used to have a saying along the lines of "God is so amazing he could turn even sins into the means of grace." I thought that was bullshit until I encountered Miss Dylan Davis. I can't wait to see what kind of a woman that little gal grows into.

Anyway, Annette has done two things to try to counteract her sense of inferiority in the light of our marital success. First, she has done a few things behind the scenes to undermine our marriage. When that did not pan out, I guess, if Alicia is correct, she started casting about for a man who might be a better catch than Christian.

You'd better pour yourself another glass of that wine, sweetheart. This part is going to be hard for you to listen to.

You said earlier that you are very grateful for Annette's support and encouragement when you were having the in vitro fertilization treatments. I see her behavior during that period quite differently. The truth may lie somewhere in between our two versions but here's my perspective on what happened.

I think Annette took perverse pleasure in your infertility. Because she loves you and is a woman who loves being a mother, I am sure she was supportive and loving toward you when you miscarried. But, I think every miscarriage you had was more proof that she is a better woman, better wife, better mother than you. Okay, maybe, that's uncalled for exaggeration, but it has always been my opinion.

I do know one thing. I've always told you that I thought the genesis of my feud with Annette had to do with my belief that she wanted to control you and I stood in her way. I think that is true to an extent. She used to try to control you as much as possible; I think in recent years she has backed off of that a bit, but her desire to keep you from growing and changing is still there. What is more, she is a very competitive woman. She does not like to come in second.

I told you the truth when I said that she and Christian tried to run me off when you and I first met. I made it sound like it was a joint effort on their part. It was not. Christian tried to run me off. He appeared to believe I was not good enough for you. What he said was that I was too old for you. You deserved someone who did not travel so much. As I mentioned earlier I think he had other ulterior motives for wanting to keep you unattached.

Annette was okay at first, at least for a while. Then, instead of trying to run me off she simply tried to take me away from you.

One night, after your second or third miscarriage, Annette came over to spend the evening with you until I could get home from the airport. By the time I arrived, you were asleep. Annette was hanging out in the kitchen in the event you might wake up and need something. We talked for a few minutes and I thanked her for her kindness and for being there for you. I think I might have even cried a little. Those miscarriages were hard on me, too. Anyway, after a few minutes I wanted to be alone so I could pull myself together before having to face you whenever you woke.

I walked her to her car. Before she got into the car, she turned around and propositioned me. She said she knew that I wanted a family. She had proven her fertility and her skills at managing a household. She said she felt she was more like the kind of woman I was looking for than you were. She told me she thought I really needed a homemaker who would have my children and make my life easy. She offered to be that person.

In a way she was right. All of that was exactly the kind of woman I had been looking for before I met you. You were a bit of a curve for me, but after I met you my whole image of what I wanted in a wife changed. Annette stood there and offered me what I had always thought I wanted, at least until you came along and gave me what I really needed.

I understood that very clearly in that single instant standing there in the dark being blown away by my wife's best friend throwing herself at me, at the most inappropriate possible time.

Whereupon, my travel fatigue, my emotional distress over the latest lost pregnancy, my concern for you and my irritation at Annette's and Christian's rotten behavior toward me from the beginning all piled up and I really unloaded on her. My nastiest most hateful side rose up and I let her have it with both barrels. I don't remember exactly what I said to her but I know I called her every name for a whore I could think of, and a few I think I made up on the spot.

A few months later, after your last miscarriage, she brought Dylan with her when she came to take care of you. What a thoughtless thing to do! When I got home, you were a basket case. After I got you calmed down by slipping a sedative in your tea, I put you to bed. Once I knew you were sound asleep, I got in my car and drove to their house and unloaded on her again, this time in front of Christian. I think I included him in the tirade, although I was in such a blind rage, I honestly can't remember what I said.

After that they both always seemed to go out of their way be nasty to me when your back was turned. I suppose that my temper tantrums only fueled their disdain for me. On top of being too old for you and traveling all the time with beautiful women, I was just simply a crazy bastard. You are probably right in your theory that they think I abuse you.

Their behavior got worse after Melissa was born and your career sort of got back on track, perhaps because of the transformation that you underwent. You were like the lotus blooming.

Once you got the hormones out of your system and got yourself back in fighting trim, which happened faster than anyone would ever have believed, you resumed your career and you totally blew every one away. Alicia told me everyone at the firm was amazed by how you came roaring back after Lissy was born. Evidently most of them believed you would stay home and quit working altogether.

Alicia told me you surprised everybody not just by coming back to work but by the way your job performance took off. She said you had been a really good lawyer before. You were sort of barely hanging on for those two horrible years of IVF, but after Melissa was born, you made it known you were seriously going to be a force to be reckoned with.

We had good child care. Of course it helped that Melissa was a healthy, happy and easy baby. All of that played a part, but I have always thought that you were a changed woman after she was born, in a lot of ways. At home you were gentler and softer somehow. Whether you think so or not, you are a wonderful mother. We had a great marriage before, but our relationship was changed by the miscarriages and Melissa's birth. We shared a terrible ordeal that ultimately resulted in a miracle. You are, if is is possible, even more wonderful than you were before, not as perfect as I thought at first, but infinitely more human and interesting.

According to Alicia, after Melissa was born you turned into a regular powerhouse at work. You could do more work in less time than any other associate in the department. You never bitched about any assignment they gave you, and they sometimes gave you shitty assignments just to see how much you would take. You did excellent work whether you were representing pro bono clients or Happy Giant. Almost overnight you transmogrified from a young lawyer with a lot of potential into a rising star. From that time on, there has been no question that the sky is truly the limit as far as your career is concerned.

At the same time Christian's career sort of plateaued. Christian's brilliance in the library was already well known and could have continued to serve him well if he could get his head out of his ass and realize how valuable his true talent could have made him. He would have a key role in every significant case that might come along. Alicia told me, and you just confirmed, that Christian didn't see it that way. He still struggled to become a litigator. He balked when they gave him assignments he didn't like, but he also demanded larger roles in cases and got pissed off when they did not accede to his demands. Christian's star has been fading for a long time. No one knows that better than Christian and Annette.

Apparently they arrived at different conclusions for how to deal with the situation. Annette had evidently made up her mind to move on. After I turned her down, she started actively looking for a replacement for Christian. The main quality she seemed to be looking for was money; little things like character, integrity or honesty did not seem as important to her.

Christian still chased skirts, which evidently he had always done, but for him that was always extra-curricular activity, for his amusement. He never took any of those women seriously. I don't think it ever occurred to him that Annette was not sitting home every day feeling grateful to have him deign to be a part of her life. His whoring had nothing to do with relationships. It was all about power and prestige. In his mind, it had nothing to do with Annette either.

At work, Christian began to resent you. He tried to undermine you a few times but that backfired. As I understand it, he tried to stab you in the back but got caught by Ron Henderson, who apparently threatened him with serious bodily harm followed by termination of employment if he ever fucked with you again. You thought that they put you and Christian on the X-Tech case to compare the two of you side by side during the run-up to the partnership decision. As you later learned what they really wanted to do was to learn what your relationship with Christian really was about. They threw you together to test your integrity.

Ron Henderson apparently had different reasons. He never doubted your integrity for a minute. He knew your heart and he knew you were friends with Christian's wife. He wanted to get rid of Christian. He thinks Christian is a malcontent who believes he should get a free pass because of his dad's accomplishments all those decades ago. Christian tried to torpedo the career of Ron's favorite associate (i. e., you) thereby putting him at the top of Ron's shit list but also making him seem exceedingly untrustworthy in the eyes of many of the partners. Ron maneuvered to put Christian on the X-Tech case, in part, so Ron could watch him, but mostly in order to set him up for failure and ultimately get to get rid of him.

Parenthetically, I have got to tell you that, based on what Alicia has told me, Christian will not get the partnership this year. You will. Moreover, Christian is unlikely to be offered a partnership at any point in time. His career at F&J is essentially over. Apparently he mouthed off a little about some internal firm business to the client the night you and I went to the ballgame in Houston. Ron found out about it and wanted to fire him on the spot. After Ron cooled off a little, he decided to keep Christian on until after the partnership announcement. Ron decided to engage in a little bit of rubbing Christian's nose in it. Apparently, the plan was to promote you in front of Christian and then fire him.

Christian's sexual harassment of you in Houston is known in the firm. How it is known in the firm is not something I asked about, but it's pretty clear to me someone within the client's organization found out about it and informed Ron Henderson what happened between you and Christian on Tuesday of that week. He also knows about the things Christian said to the client at dinner the next night, the content of which I do not know. Whatever it was, it apparently really pissed Ron off.

As much as I loathe the smarmy little bastard, I guess I've been around you long enough to feel a little sorry for Christian. I feel really sorry for his kids, and for Annette. God, I must be slipping! She and I never got along, and she'd probably hate to know I feel this way, but I think she has put up with a lot of shit from Christian over the years. I guess a lot of her bad behavior arose from an attempts at self preservation. For her sake, I kind of hope they break up and she has the chance to move on with her life – with her neighbor or with someone else who will cherish her the way a woman deserves.

You, my dear, have been nothing short of magnificent in the way you have conducted yourself during this period of testing and trial.

I believe with all my heart you will get the promotion because you deserve it.

I will be nothing but proud of you either way, for what it's worth.

Chapter 5 - Interlude

They were quiet for several minutes. He took a drink of his wine, which had long since gone warm. She reached out and took his glass, dumping the dregs onto the patio. She refilled the glass with the last of the cold wine from the bottle. He downed in in one gulp.

Neither of them said anything. Mary Jo got up and turned off the lights in the pool and the patio. She pushed the cart containing the remains of their "dinner" and put away the leftovers. When she was finished, Frank was still sitting in the chair staring off into space with a haunted look on his face.

She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his chest, "How long has it been since you have seen your sister?"

He said, "I visit once a year near her birthday."

"Do you think the next time you go, Lissy and I could go with you?" He looked back at her and smiled, but his eyes were full of tears. He looked drained and tired. She could also tell he was battered by the painful memories he had dredged up. She put her hand on his chest and whispered, "Do you want me to sit with you for a while or would you rather be alone?"

He looked at her as though she were very far away and murmured, "Unless you need me, I'd like to sit here by myself for a while."

Mary Jo kissed him and said, "I'm going to bed. Call me if you change your mind."

He patted her on the cheek and motioned her away. She lay awake for several hours waiting for him. When he finally came to bed she wrapped her arms around him and finally fell asleep.

Frank lay awake nearly all night.

Chapter 6 – Annette's Story

I am sorry for coming over so early and unannounced like this, but I really need to talk to someone, and I was hoping you might be willing to come through on that offer of a shoulder to cry on if I needed it. Do you mind if we sit on the back porch so I can hear the kids when they get up?

You should know that Christian has moved out. It's weird that he moved out when this is his family home, but he thought it would be easier on the girls if we stay here. The fact is, he's far too lazy to take care of this big house all by himself, and he sure as hell won't want to take the responsibility to have the kids live with him.

No, it isn't because of you. Well, I did tell him about us, but only after the decision was made to end our marriage.

There is a lot more involved than just the issue of our recent involvement. I don't know if you and I will have any kind of relationship in the future, but you show all the signs of being a good friend, and I hope that we can at least have that. Either way I want you to hear the whole story. Friend or lover, I think you deserve to know it. Right now, I need to tell it out loud in order to try to figure out where everything went haywire.

This is about me and Christian, but it's also about our friend Mary Jo and her husband. Please, bear with me. I may skip around. This is all so confusing and raw, and I'm pretty overwrought. Stop me if I become incoherent.

I met Mary Jo in Junior High. She was new in the school and the neighborhood. The first thing I noticed about her was that she was not wearing new shoes. I had expected to be the only one without new shoes on the first day of junior high school. Her shoes were clean, but they were very worn. They looked even older than mine.

Our neighborhood was made up of blue collar families. Most of the families were holding their own, but there were some who were very much on the edge of sliding into out-and-out poverty. I somehow knew Mary Jo's family fell into that category just by looking at her. Her clothes, hair and belongings were clean... sort of "too" clean. She was trying to make a shabby whole look new by polishing it up. I knew all about that. I was in the same boat. I didn't have new shoes for school either. My dad made decent money working in factory, but I was the fifth of seven kids. There was only so much to go around. Everything I owned was a hand-me-down from somebody -- often several somebodies -- , including my shoes, which had been the source of a few arguments with my mother over the summer.

Mary Jo looked so scared, I felt sorry for her. I sort of hung out with her all day the first day of school. We had very little in common except for the fact that neither of us had any other friends. My best friend from elementary school had moved to another school district over the summer, so I was almost as lost as Mary Jo. It turned out Mary Jo's family lived in my neighborhood. We bonded quickly and soon became inseparable.

Mary Jo was unbelievably smart and she was academically a star. I was athletic and did not care very much about school. She pushed me to do better in school than I ever would have done otherwise, which turned out to be a huge help to me. I made her get her nose out of her books and get up off her butt once in a while so she didn't grow moss. She joined the track team. She sucked as a runner, but she needed the exercise. It did her worlds of good. She still exercises every day.

Thanks to Mary Jo's academic prodding and tutoring, I ended up getting accepted into the nursing program at Mt. St. Joseph College. My mother was a nurse by training, although she used her skills patching up her own kids rather than working in a doctor's office or hospital. Mary Jo's mother was a practical nurse. It was a traditional choice for girls in our neighborhood: become a nurse (or a teacher) until you got married. I realize now that attitude was probably out-of-date even then. The post-modern world had not caught up with the teenagers in our neighborhood. I don't think it ever occurred to me even once that I might become anything other than a homemaker after working for a couple of years after college.

Neither Mary Jo nor I dated very much in high school. I was a girl jock, and I was really tall and muscular. Athletic-looking girls may be "in" now in some circles but it was most definitely not appealing to boys at that time. Mary Jo, on the other hand, was a bookworm. Neither brains like Mary Jo's nor athletic ability like mine invited dates. Whenever either of us needed a date, I'd coerce one of my brothers to take Mary Jo and to corral one of their friends to take me. My plan was to become a nurse and use that as an entrée to meet and marry a doctor. I had no intention of dorking around dating the neighborhood boys who were going to grow up to be cops and factory workers. I guess all those brothers (out of seven of us only two were girls) was another deterrent to guys asking me out, come to think of it.

Interestingly, Mary Jo seemed to have no particular plan at all for her life after high school. She didn't even intend to go to college at first. After graduating from high school, she got a job working as a secretary in a husband-and-wife law firm. She was a very fast learner, and enjoyed the work. Her bosses encouraged her to go to college and to consider becoming a lawyer. They even seemed to pay her more than I thought her job was really worth, perhaps as their way of helping her out. She enrolled at U. C. as a part-time student during the winter term. She got started late and only went part time so it took her an extra year or so to get through college, but I think she ultimately graduated with straight A's. After working her way through college, saving money by living at home, she applied to the U. C. law school. She cobbled together some scholarships and some loans so she could go to school full time. She cut back her working hours but continued to hold a job. For all three years she was in law school, every time I saw her she appeared to be totally exhausted. All she did was study and work.

You would think she would have been miserable, but in many ways I think she was happier in law school than at almost any other point in her life at least until recently. She loved school. In law school she was competing with a lot of other smart people. She had so much fun with that, it was crazy.

I lived in a studio apartment near the hospital where I worked. It was not far from the law library. Mary Jo lived at home with her parents in the suburbs, but she spent most weeknights camping in my apartment. Literally. She bought a sleeping bag at an army surplus store and she slept on the floor in my apartment to save time and gas. She went home to her parents' house on the weekends.

She met Christian in her second year of law school. He was the son of a prominent Cincinnati attorney who had passed away and left him a handsome inheritance. He was first in their class. Mary Jo was second. They were neck and neck all three years. Theirs was an intense rivalry, but they managed to become friends, too. Well, she did, anyway. The truth is that Mary Jo was Christian's friend in that she cared for him and looked out for his best interests.

He kept her close for two reasons. First, so he could watch her and make sure she wasn't doing something brilliant and getting ahead of him somehow. Second, he got sort of "points" for hanging out with the "poor girl". He was a wealthy society boy. He didn't date too much because the girls in his social circle already knew he was kind of a loser. So he made it a practice of sort of "helping out" girls who were poor, ugly or otherwise beneath him. That made him look kind and compassionate in the eyes of his peers. It also gave him someone to feel superior to, which is very important to Christian.

Mary Jo had the good grace not to ever criticize me for it, but I was sort of making up for lost time in the dating department during that period. The too-tall, too-gawky high school jock had blossomed into a willowy young woman. Perhaps men's tastes were changing, or perhaps interns and resident doctors were too busy to be very picky. In any case, I somehow found myself sort of screwing my way through the intern corps at the hospital. I could tell that Mary Jo disapproved of both my lifestyle and my choice of dates. She has always been a little prissy about promiscuity. I was kind of amazed that she never called bullshit on my behavior.

Perhaps by way of offering an alternative to horny interns, she introduced me to Christian. She, rightly, thought he was much more settled and stable than most of the guys I was wasting my time with. She, incorrectly it turns out, believed he had potential as a future provider.

I had a couple of problems with Christian from the beginning. The biggest one was that Christian was in love with Mary Jo. She, of course, was totally unaware of that fact. That was partly because Christian never said anything to her about how he felt. Expressing feelings, to the extent he has them, is something Christian simply cannot do. He was raised in one of those almost Victorian families where emotions, other than occasional outbursts of anger, are never expressed.

It was obvious to everyone else he was in love with her, but he never said anything to Mary Jo, so she didn't know it. You see, when it comes to emotional or relationship stuff, you kind of have to spell things out to Mary Jo. She is not the most perceptive person in the world, largely because she spends 95% of her time working, and 4% of the rest of her time thinking about working. Interpersonal relationships are not her strong suit. In her mind, Christian was a friend and a law school buddy. School and work took up all of her time. She did not have time for dating. Therefore it never occurred to her that Christian, or any other guy she knew, would be interested in dating either. It is often difficult for Mary Jo to comprehend that other people have points of view that differ from hers.

Somehow she came up with the crazy notion that Christian and I would be perfect for each other. She introduced us. I think Christian always felt that she sort of pawned him off on me because she didn't want him. To this day, I am certain Christian does not know that Mary Jo never had a clue how he felt about her. They have always been friendly colleagues and they think they are friends. From my front-row observation post, I think the two of them never really communicated on the same level about anything other than their studies or work.

They complement each other perfectly at work. His strengths were her weaknesses and vice versa. I think they'd have made great partners. That was what Mary Jo wanted for them. She wanted them to go out on their own and practice law together. If Christian had agreed to that, I would be at home in bed with him right now.

I have no idea if that is a good thing or a bad thing. It's just the truth.

The second problem with Christian was that he was so damned boring. He may be a really smart lawyer, but he didn't have any other outside interests nor did he have much of a personality. He was never interested in anything except the law. Even when he read fiction, he read legal fiction – and critiqued it not from a literary standpoint but from the standpoint of its accuracy about the profession.

I should have paid attention to my initial negative impression. However, he is in many ways truly a nice guy. He was really smart. Before we got married we used to talk about books and history and politics and stuff. He's amazing to talk to. I've always been interested in ideas of all sorts. It was cool to hang out with someone who was so smart and talked to me about "important things." That was great when we were dating. He practically stopped talking to me altogether after we got married.

But that was later, at first it was different. He was nice. He had money. He wasn't a doctor, but I had seen enough of doctors' behavior after a couple of years working at the hospital to know that doctors were not necessarily the greatest potential husband material. Lawyers were professionals with good earnings potential, too. I thought Christian would be a safe choice. I have come to believe that making safe choices usually costs a whole lot on the back side.

I can't say we were really in love when we got married. We agreed for the most part on what we wanted for our future: a nice home and a few kids. I liked him. I don't know how he felt about me. He never said. His reticence in expressing his feelings extended to me and to our kids as well. At first, I put it down to shyness and thought he would eventually open up. As the years went by and he continued to refuse to open up, it became increasingly annoying.

Anyway, we got married because it seemed like the thing to do. I was tired of sleeping with interns and graduate students in the university district who took me to dinner, crashed at my apartment for a night and never called again. I was ready to settle down and have kids. Christian was heading into his third year of law school and he already had been recruited by F&J. He needed a wife to take a place next to him in the community. A society wife, such as one of the girls from the Cotillion who he was always throwing in my face, would have been better. Unfortunately, none of those girls would go out with him, so he settled for me. I guess in a way I was a safe choice for him, too, which only compounded the likelihood the piper would have to be paid at some point in the future.

Once we were established, and after I had a couple of kids and a big house to keep me busy, he was free to pursue his only real interest besides work: chasing women. It was an obsession with him. He never dated them or courted them or attempted to have any kind of relationship with the women he went after, he just screwed around.

According to his mother, his father suffered from chronic infidelity as well. His mother's attitude was that as long as her husband put plenty of money in the bank, he could find his female entertainment wherever he chose. Christian's mom always held it against me that I couldn't overlook his cheating as a simple case of "boys will be boys." I could never just accept it like she said she did with her husband; I always wondered how much she had really accepted it while Christian's father was still alive. In any case, when Christian started running around on me, I was hurt and angry.

Still, it never occurred to me to leave him. I had a toddler and a newborn. My marriage sort of sucked, but I loved our house and I adore being a mom. I stuck it out for reasons of security. Like I said, safe choices bite you in the ass eventually.

Christian stopped having grown-up conversations with me from almost the day Carly was born. From then on, he mainly gave me orders. Somehow, once I became a mother, he treated me like the maid.

I continued to see Mary Jo, and we talked about ideas and books and goings-on in the world. At that point in my life, Mary Jo was the only person in my life who treated me like an adult. I clung to her like a life raft.

When my marriage first started to go bad, Mary Jo was clerking for a federal judge. She had great stories to tell. She was making a decent income but she still lived in the studio apartment she had sublet from me. The building was a total dump and it was in a bad neighborhood, but, Lord, she was happy!

That's an important point about Mary Jo. She's a naturally happy person. Her happiness sort of bubbles up from inside. Events and circumstances in the outside world don't have a lot of impact on her innate happiness, either positively or negatively. Part of that is because Mary Jo doesn't really notice a lot of what goes on in her external world. She concentrates almost exclusively on whatever she is doing at the moment, and usually she finds joy in whatever engages her attention.

She may miss a lot of what's going on around her, but she's happy nonetheless. I have always envied her so much, I can't begin to describe it.

Occasionally, I would hire a babysitter and Mary Jo and I would go shopping or out to lunch and she would tell me stories about her work. I found her stories fascinating. After she moved over to F&J she stopped telling me work stories, except for those she knew Christian would not know about. I think she assumed Christian told me all the scoop about the firm. I never had the heart to tell her how empty our relationship was because she believed we had a sort of story-book marriage. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth. I know her well enough to know that she'd feel guilty for introducing me to Christian in the first place.

I envied her happiness, but I did not envy her lifestyle. She worked like a galley slave day in, day out, six days a week and sometimes seven. She loved it, but to me her life seemed more like hell than mine. I think I took some comfort in that.

I tried to fix her up with some guys, but nobody ever asked her out twice. She was very smart, she didn't "put out" and she worked all the time. None of the guys I fixed her up with ever came back for seconds. Soon she somehow got the reputation of being one of those career-driven females who hates men. I never for a minute believed that was true, but a lot of people did, including virtually all the single male lawyers in town.

Women lawyers tend to marry men lawyers. Mary Jo did not have many options in the dating department. She didn't know that, but if she had known, I don't think she'd have cared. Marriage was not on her agenda. She loved her work. That was plenty for her. Her dream was save her money and travel a lot. She wasn't looking for a husband and I never heard her say anything about wanting kids.

When she first went to work at F&J most of the people did not know she and Christian were friends. Since she has generally poor social networking skills (an understatement if ever there was one), Christian sort of took her under his wing again as he had in college. I think Christian knew she would soon shine and hoped to pick up some brownie points along the way by being her "sponsor." Once again, I thought he saw himself as helping someone who was his social inferior.

A lot of people in the firm interpreted their friendship as an affair. I have to admit I was unaware of that at the beginning, or I might have been able to stop some of the gossip. Christian for sure knew about it, and, I think, actually did and said things from time to time that tended lend credibility to the rumors without coming out and corroborating them.

At that point, I think Christian's initial infatuation with Mary Jo had sort of diminished, but he still carried a bit of a torch. Her career at F&J was meteoric. Christian's never really got off the ground. He became more and more bitter as one after another cherry assignment went to her instead of him. He was at the beginning of a long slippery slope. I wonder if it wasn't already too late for him to have turned things around even then.

Anyway, Mary Jo became the star associate in the litigation department. The firm was clearly trying to figure out what to do with Christian. They were not very successful in that. His father had been a renowned litigation lawyer. Christian always expected to follow in his father's shoes. When he got to the point of handling a piece of litigation, Christian knew what needed to be done, but he could not do it. He is a great writer. They say he can write superb legal briefs. He can't speak in public. I think they've let him argue two motions in the whole time he has been there and it is my understanding that he blew it both times. Mary Jo has been trying cases since the first year she was with the firm.

In her third or fourth year, they let her make closing arguments in an important product liability case. She apparently did a fabulous job and the jury came back with a huge award for the client. Mary Jo stepped on the fast track to litigation stardom. Christian was inconsolable for weeks.

Then Mary Jo met Frank. They have great stories about that first encounter. She literally ran into him. As I said, Mary Jo can focus on her work like nobody's business. She doesn't do so well with more mundane life skills, such as driving. She's never caused a serious wreck, but that is only because her Guardian Angel must call for backup whenever she gets behind the wheel.

She met Frank when she backed into his brand new Mercedes. I mean brand new. He was driving it home after picking it up at the dealership. Knowing what I know now about Frank's temper, I'm amazed he didn't deck her right on the spot.

I am not sure how it happened exactly, but only a few weeks later, they were dating, very seriously. I have never seen such a total and immediate transformation in a person in my life. Mary Jo, who never dated, never had any interest in boys at all, who never wanted to get married and who had, to my knowledge, never considered having children, was suddenly head-over-heels, madly, passionately crazy-in-love. Mary Jo fell in love with the same total focus, intensity and heart-mind-body-soul devotion she had always reserved exclusively for her work up to that time. It was as though she under went a total personality transformation.

She had always been a happy person. After she met Frank, it was actually hard for me to be around her. It was just too painful to listen to her rhapsodizing endlessly about how wonderful he was and how every word that fell from his mouth was so inspiring and interesting... oh, God, she was almost disgusting. It was also painful to listen to her joyful burbling when my own life was going down the toilet.

A month or so after they started dating, there was a cocktail reception at the Bar Association. Mary Jo invited us to meet her and Frank there after which the four of us would go out to dinner so Christian and I could get to know the magnificent Frank Bennett.

I talked to Mary Jo's mother before the dinner. She said she liked Frank, but she was concerned that he was much too old for Mary Jo. He is twenty years older than she is. Mrs. Heinrich was also concerned because he traveled all the time in business. She thought that would be hard on Mary Jo. I didn't like the idea of him being so much older than her, but I thought the traveling part would work out okay what with Mary Jo's tendency for walling herself off in her work anyway. I sort of figured Mary Jo would hardly notice when he was gone.

To say our initial meeting did not go well would be an understatement. Mary Jo had talked about Frank like he was the Second Coming or something. I expected a handsome, suave, intellectual. I was freaked out from the moment she introduced us.

Frank looked like Hollywood's version of a shanty Irishman. He's going a bit gray now and, as with many redheads the brightness has faded, but at that time his hair was bright red and his skin was ruddy. I thought he looked like a truck driver. Mary Jo thinks his green eyes are beautiful. They creep me out. He is one of the few people I know with whom I avoid eye contact whenever possible. That could be due in part to the hatred I always see when I do accidentally look him in the eye.

To his credit, he was on his best behavior that night, for Mary Jo's benefit. He answered our questions and was very polite. However, there was a whole lot of non-verbal communication that went on at the table that night. Mary Jo was blissfully unaware of it because all she could do was stare adoringly at him, and as I said she's generally oblivious to subtlety, anyway. Frank spent the first part of the evening asking pointed questions and obviously sizing up Christian and me. Before long, he relaxed. We clearly did not amount to any kind of a threat to his plans, apparently.

He did his best to answer our questions and to provide assurance that his intentions with respect to Mary Jo were honorable. What made the whole thing uncomfortable was that, even while he was sucking up to us to show off for Mary Jo, he was making it totally clear by his entire demeanor that he didn't give a rat's ass what we thought, so the whole thing was a big waste of everybody's time. From the minute I met him I thought he was an arrogant asshole. When he purposely reached out to pour the wine with his left hand (Frank is right handed) to show off his diamond Rolex, I wanted to smack him.

But, I have to confess, it caught my eye. That was the first diamond Rolex I had ever seen. That's why he did it.

I decided to make nice for Mary Jo's sake. For one thing, I noticed immediately that he was very, very nice to her. Actually, he was and remains the most loving, kind and attentive husband I have ever even heard of. It's weird. He's an absolute jerk with everybody else, but when he looks at her, his whole demeanor changes. He loves her as much as she loves him. That much was clear from the first evening I met him. I never let that stop me from loathing him, however.

By the end of the evening, I sort of developed emotional whiplash. For my part, I despised him, but I couldn't help but think the way he treated Mary Jo looked like a good thing. Maybe I was just jealous. Which, of course, speaks volumes all by itself for the kind of friend I am to his wife.

Christian said very little that night, but what he did say made it very clear to everyone at the table except Mary Jo that Christian thought Frank was stepping on his turf. Frank seemed to find that amusing. I think he sized Christian up in about a minute and realized that Christian was no threat to him whatsoever. Frank more or less dismissed Christian from the conversation. In all these intervening years Frank has continued to more or less ignore Christian. It is as though Christian were sort of irrelevant as far as Frank is concerned.

Maybe he was right to think so little of Christian. At the time it really pissed me off that Frank seemed to feel so superior to Christian when Frank seemed to be so common. We learned only later how smart and well-educated he is. What is more, time has shown how small and petty Christian can be. I think Frank had Christian pegged from that first encounter.

I did not know until we got better acquainted what a master Frank is at reading people. He is amazing. I guess he has honed that skill to perfection from all those years in sales. First and foremost, he saw things in Mary Jo that no one else had ever seen. He's brought out qualities in her that those of us who had known her for years would never have imagined. I'd never admit this to him because I've spent so many years loathing the bastard and I wouldn't want him to think I've mellowed, but he's been very good for Mary Jo in almost every possible way.

Anyway, they got married only about three months after they met. Their wedding was so typical of Mary Jo we all laughed about it. Neither of them wanted a big wedding. Neither of them is religious. They planned to get married at the courthouse. Afterwards Christian and I would join them for lunch with Mary Jo's parents. Frank does not appear to have any family, or at least he has never mentioned any family. After lunch Christian and I were to take them to the airport to leave for their honeymoon in the Bahamas.

Mary Jo's mother and I planned the wedding lunch and Frank was in charge of planning the honeymoon. Mary Jo was busy with a case and couldn't be bothered with any of that wedding-planning nonsense. Christian and I picked her up at her apartment for the trip to the courthouse. She was wearing a white pants outfit she had owned for years and had one small suitcase. I asked her what the hell was up with that. She shrugged and said she hadn't had time to go shopping for a wedding outfit. She thought the pantsuit would be good for traveling and for going out to dinner at the resort.

I asked her what she brought with her for clothes. She made a face and said, "I'm taking what I always take when I got to the beach, a couple of bathing suits, a couple of pairs of shorts, three or four tops and underwear. What else will I need?" I asked what she was doing for shoes. She said she had the sandals she was wearing, a pair of flip flops and a pair of running shoes. She couldn't understand why I was so exasperated. I asked her if it had ever occurred to her that Frank might want to take her out for some romantic dinner at a fancy place. She made a nasty face and said, "Of course not. We don't do that kind of thing."

Her mother about had a heart attack when she realized that Mary Jo had gotten married in an old pantsuit. Actually, her mother was very pissed off about what she took to be Mary Jo's lackadaisical attitude about her marriage. Perhaps with reason. Mary Jo was sending a message to the world that the marriage was just a formality in which she had little interest.

Frank thought Mary Jo's choice of wedding attire was the funniest thing he'd ever heard of. Frank not only bought new clothes for the ceremony, but apparently bought new clothes for the entire trip, since he evidently did not own anything casual enough for the kind of vacation Mary Jo had in mind.

As it turns out, Mary Jo needn't have bothered to pack a suitcase at all. Frank bought her all new clothes once they got to the Island. He's been picking out almost all of her clothes ever since. She's probably the best dressed woman in Cincinnati, and she has absolutely no idea. He buys her designer originals from Europe. Mary Jo's very practical and thrifty. If she had any idea what Frank shells out for her clothes, she'd have a cow.

Much to everyone's amazement, they started trying to have a baby immediately. I guess it made sense given Frank's age that he did not want to waste a lot of time. It never occurred to me that Mary Jo would get on board with that plan so quickly.

Sadly, the doctors soon determined that Mary Jo would probably never be able to conceive normally. They looked into adoption, but Frank was too old to qualify for an infant. They then decided on IVF. I don't know if you know anything about that, but it's just awful. They pump the woman full of hormones to make her as fertile as possible, they fertilize the eggs in a lab and then they do artificial insemination. It took two years and five miscarriages before Mary Jo managed to get past the first trimester with Melissa. From that point on her pregnancy was relatively easy and Miss Melissa popped out after less than four hours' labor. She has reigned as the Princess in her family's castle ever since. You'd think she'd be a spoiled brat, but she is actually a sweet and very well behaved child who is adored by both of her parents and nearly everybody else who knows her. She does not appear to be spoiled in any way.

The two years before she was born were pure hell for Frank and Mary Jo, and also for those of us who were close to Mary Jo. Mary Jo's mom tried to be supportive but she was so devastated by what was happening to her daughter she begged them to stop. In order to spare her mother further heartache, Mary Jo quit confiding in her. Frank traveled. He came home as soon as he could when she needed him, but most of the time I was the first one on the scene when Mary Jo had difficulties. Sometimes it was just loneliness, frustration or feeling sick from the hormones. I'd listen to her rant and rave or I'd run with her when she needed to get out and run off her anger and frustration. When she miscarried, I stayed with her and held her while she cried until Frank got home. She had two miscarriages she never even told Frank or her mom about because they happened very early in the pregnancies.

By the time she had her third miscarriage, everybody was at the end of their rope. Frank was on the road. He flew back early, but it was several hours between the time Mary Jo came home from the hospital and when he got home, I was sitting in the family room where Mary Jo was sleeping stretched out on the couch. Frank came in and just looked at her for a long moment. His eyes held mixture of guilt and grief that made me want to burst into sobs. Then his look changed to one so filled with love I almost couldn't breathe. I got up to leave and he walked me to my car. He thanked me for being such a good friend to Mary Jo and opened the door for me.

At that moment, I did the absolute most evil thing I've ever done in my life.

To this day, I do not know what came over me. Maybe I just wanted someone to look at me with half the love Frank had just shown for Mary Jo. Maybe I as as overwrought as Frank and I knew Christian would not be any help to me when I got home. Maybe I was just temporarily insane. I don't know. I do know that I stood there like a street-walker and propositioned my best friend's husband while she was recovering from a miscarriage. I told him that if he wanted a baby, I would give him one. I had proven I could do it by producing two kids already. I don't know what else I said. Whatever it was, it was the babbling of a lunatic.

I truly do not know how he managed not to strangle me. I knew even at the time he wanted to do just that. That evening he showed me a terrifying display of just how angry he was and how much control he has over himself. He must have some deep pool of rage in his soul. (God knows where it came form and I sure as hell don't want to know!) Periodically things happen that set him off. When he is really angry, he truly frightens me. I honestly think the man would be capable of murder but for that iron control.

He didn't move. He stood there staring at me with those demonic-looking green eyes until I shut up. I knew that if I said another word he would hit me, and he probably wouldn't stop until someone made him. There was no one else around to stop him. I wisely shut my yap and stood still. He managed to get a grip on his emotions, tightened his jaw and then hit me with a wall of violent words that rained down on me exactly like the physical blows I knew he'd have liked to dish out. He called me every vile name I had ever heard and a few I hadn't. I don't remember exactly what he said, but the gist of it was that out of respect for his wife's affection for me he would not ban me from his home, but I had better never pull a stunt like that again or he would tell both Mary Jo and Christian. He suggested that for my own physical safety I might want to give him wide berth when I couldn't avoid him altogether. I promised to do just that.

To make matters worse I found out shortly thereafter that I was pregnant with Dylan. I am pretty sure that Frank has always believed I went home and got pregnant out of spite or to show him just how fertile I am. That wasn't the case, but I could understand how he would think that a woman capable of propositioning him under the circumstances I did also would be capable of such a spiteful act. Dylan was an accident whose timing sucked. She has turned out to be my golden child. I will never convince Frank she was an accident. I wouldn't begin to try.

Dylan was born only a few weeks before Mary Jo had what turned out to be her final miscarriage. Mary Jo called me and I immediately headed for her house. I do not know what I was thinking. The older two girls were in school. I called my mom to ask her to pick them up a the end of the day and I put Dylan in her car seat and took her with me to avoid delay. Dylan was sleeping when I arrived at Mary Jo's house, so I put her in the hall in her car seat where I could see her. I went into the bedroom and held Mary Jo for a long time while she cried. That was a really bad miscarriage for her because the pregnancy had lasted for more than two months longer than any of the others. She had almost started to hope that this pregnancy would succeed. She was beside herself. Eventually she cried herself out and was just about to fall asleep when Dylan woke up and started to cry.

Mary Jo went into hysterics. The louder Dylan wailed, the more hysterical Mary Jo became. We both knew I needed to get Dylan out of there. Mary Jo started screaming, "Go. Just go. Please go." I picked up Dylan and I ran out of the house, leaving Mary Jo alone. By the time Frank arrived a few hours later, she had calmed down a little, but she was still a mess. He waited until she was asleep, then he came over to our house. He almost broke down the front door before Christian could get it unlocked to let him in. He stormed into the house and said softly, "Are your children here?"

We nodded.

Frank lowered his voice to barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the children but he told me off even worse than the last time. I deserved it completely and I took it as best I could, praying that he wouldn't refer to the last time in front of Christian. Interestingly, he did not. He made it clear that I could visit Mary Jo and my ministrations to her were welcome when she was ill, but I'd better damned well leave my kids at home, especially the baby.

I did not like Frank from the beginning. He had initially been pleasant to me. After my little episode in his driveway and then nearly giving Mary Jo a nervous breakdown, we sort of mutually hated each other. He hated me for good reason. I guess to be totally truthful, I hated him out of shame. We have barely exchanged so much as a civil word outside of Mary Jo's presence. Frank has better control than I do. He was never uncivil where anybody else could see or hear, but he baited me until I'd lash out at him. Inevitably I would shoot off my mouth in front of Mary Jo after which she would get all hurt and offended. Eventually Mary Jo and I agreed to avoid social occasions that called for me and Frank to interact except for firm events where it was unavoidable. That generally worked pretty well. At firm functions, Frank and I could generally avoid each other.

Conception had been difficult for Mary Jo. Pregnancy turned out to be kind of a breeze. Melissa's birth was relatively easy as well. Once her hormones got back to their normal level, Mary Jo turned back into herself, only better because she now had Melissa, the most perfect baby in history to hear Mary Jo and Frank tell it. Mary Jo took almost no maternity leave. They hired a nanny. It was disgusting how quickly Mary Jo lost her pregnancy weight. She was back to work, and back in all her pre-pregnancy clothes in only a few weeks.

Mary Jo's bliss was hard for me to watch. My marriage was falling apart. My kids are wonderful and I love them, but I had two in early elementary and a toddler. They are not as cute at that age as newborns. I had a big house and I did all the housework myself. I was exhausted. I feared for my future. It was hard to watch my best friend sailing through life as though the very gods were clearing a path for her. I know that is ungracious of me, but it's how I felt. It was clear to me that Frank was aware of my feelings. To his credit, he never tried to rub my nose in my own misery. Mary Jo never gave any sign of noticing. That was one time I was sort of grateful for her lack of perceptiveness. I really didn't want her to know how unhappy I was.

Things could have gone on like that indefinitely except for the fact that this year Christian and Mary Jo were up for the same partnership. That's when everything sort of started to spin out of control.

You know Christian, he's kind of an egg-head sort of guy. He's smart and he can be funny when he's in the right mood, but he's not a real people person. He has some amazing specialized legal talents and he's from a prominent Cincinnati family with roots deep in the legal community. Those things gave him an edge at the beginning of his tenure with F&J, but by and large, at least from every account I've ever heard, Mary Jo is a much better lawyer. All the way around, Mary Jo had it over Christian except for a couple of things. First, she's a woman and F&J already had a couple of women partners and wasn't really looking for more.

Second, Mary Jo had never shown the kind of real ambition to be a partner at F&J that they wanted to see. I think that is because Mary Jo never really had a burning desire to be a partner at F&J. Quite honestly, until she met Frank I don't think Mary Jo ever had a burning desire for much of anything. She threw herself into whatever presented itself to her, whether it was school or work or love. She never had any grand plan or ambition. She loves being a lawyer, especially trial work, but she would be happy as an associate forever. She would be happy as a solo practitioner. She would be happy working for a judge. She just likes to keep busy with interesting work. She is not into the politics of career advancement.

Third, a lot of the people in the firm thought she and Christian were lovers. The people who believed that thought she was untrustworthy, common and low-class. She would die if she knew that because Mary Jo is very self-conscious about her poor farm-kid origins.

Apparently the situation was shaping up to be a sort of gladiatorial contest except for the fact that one of the combatants was unaware of it and probably would not have participated in it had she known what was happening. Christian knew it was coming and was ready for it. Mary Jo had no idea what was happening until she was in the middle of it. That was when her litigation skills and Frank's help got her through. She never missed a beat throughout the whole thing. If I hadn't had such an enormous personal stake in the outcome, it might have been entertaining to watch.

Her husband travels all the time and they have a small child at home. She did not have live-in help. So, naturally, the firm assigned her to a case involving a lot of travel all over the country. Instead of freaking out about it, Frank and Mary Jo invited the nanny to live in.

The partners wanted to know what was up with her and Christian. She showed them: absolutely nothing. She and Frank even managed to meet up on a couple of trips so they could show off how much they adore each other in front of the client and other F&J attorneys.

She was doing a great job on a huge case. The client's employees loved her.

She was sailing toward partnership with all engines running full steam ahead.

Christian, on the other hand, kept shooting himself in the foot. He didn't like his assignment, even though he did like the traveling part. He bitched to anyone who would listen about how "beneath" him the work was. He made some statements to the client along those lines. He started picking fights with Mary Jo on a variety of subjects. To make matters even worse, one night in Texas he got drunk and made a pass at her. He didn't realize it but one of their clients' executives was in the restaurant when it happened. That person was standing next to Christian at the bar when, after she had stormed out of the restaurant, Christian called her and begged her to let him come to her room. The client told the partner in charge of the case he could hear Mary Jo telling him off over the phone even from where he was standing.

How do I know all of this? As I told you, Christian's father was a big-shot attorney who was managing partner of a large firm. Christian's mother is a notorious battle-axe and I thank God she had already moved to Florida by the time I married Christian. I don't know how on earth I would have managed to live in the same city with her. However, for some reason she likes me. I guess she was desperate for Christian to settle down and get married. I am socially beneath him, but it seems that none of the girls in his social strata would have married him because they knew they could do better. When Christian met me, Mrs. Davis decided I was the likeliest prospect he'd come up with. I guess she thought I was trainable. She set out to teach me to be the perfect wife for her son. Generally, as I understand it that is supposed to involve putting up with any bullshit Christian chose to dish out without argument or attitude. I tried as hard as I could to do that for as long as I could stand it. I'm trying to work my way back from the emotional ditch that put me in, even as we speak.

The elder Mrs. Davis did, however, give me one piece of useful advice which I have followed carefully. She told me to make friends with Christian's secretaries at every stage of his career. I have done that, and the result has been that I learned a whole lot about the inner workings of the firm. Sometimes I think I know more about what goes on at the firm than Christian and Mary Jo combined.

Christian's secretary keeps me apprised of the firm gossip. Hell, Christian never talks to me about anything and Mary Jo has never talked about F&J. I had to get my information from somewhere.

As the contest for the partnership heated up, I really expected Mary Jo to make it known that it would be okay with her to give the promotion to Christian because he wanted it more. I think she would have, too, except that somehow she became aware of the rumors about her "affair" with Christian. What is more, I think she learned (or figured out) that Christian knew about the rumors long before she did and he did nothing to stop them. Mary Jo's the straightest arrow in the history of the world. She adores her husband. She would never do anything to hurt Frank, or me for that matter. She felt that Christian had stabbed her in the back – which he had, on more occasions than I hope she ever finds out. She apparently decided not to lay down and let him take the partnership without a fight. I'm guessing that Frank was somehow involved in that decision as well. Frank's worked his way up to an executive position in a large corporation. He know how it works.

Once she was engaged in the competition, she played fairly, but she played to win.

That was when my marriage finished falling apart. Christian was miserable and he brought all his misery home. I never said a word to him about any of this, and he never talked to me about it either. Somehow my friendship with Mary Jo became an issue between Christian and me for the first time. I think Christian thought that if a choice were to be made between the two of them, I would choose her. At the beginning, I was totally in Christian's corner. Hell, I stood to benefit from his promotion. By last night, Christian had pushed me so far I made a different decision.

I told you the first night you and I spent time together that I was in an ethical bind. It was worse than I thought. Initially, I thought the only thing at stake for me was money: a partner's share in the profits versus an associate's salary. I didn't realize my very marriage was at stake. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't know that.

And so, while Christian and Mary Jo were traveling around the country trying to prove themselves worthy of acceptance in to the Partnership, I was holding on to both my marriage to Christian and my friendship with Mary Jo by the skin of my teeth. In a way, I guess I had already lost both. I just didn't know it ... or, I couldn't admit it.

You and I started hanging out while Christian and Mary Jo were gone on one of those trips. Ordinarily if Christian was not at home and I was sad, lonely, depressed or just wanted to piss away some time, I'd call Mary Jo. Since Christian was traveling around the country with Mary Jo, I was at loose ends. You lived next door. We saw each other daily. It happened. What can I say?

Considering all the screwing around Christian has done over the years, I can't say I feel guilty. I like you, so I'm not sorry, either. Actually, it was kind of liberating to finally break free and do the one thing that would for sure put the final nail in the coffin of my dead marriage.

I can't tell you how mortified and pissed off I am to have learned that the person who caught me was, of all people, Frank Bennett. He saw us one evening when you and I went out together. Interestingly, as much as he hates me, he didn't run right home and tattle to Mary Jo. Maybe he loves her too much and did not have want to hurt her, or maybe he saved the information for use at the time he could get the most mileage out of it. Whatever.

A couple of weeks ago when you and I went to that jazz ensemble recital at the Conservatory of Music I told Christian that I was with Mary Jo. I knew that Christian and Mary Jo had made a pact not to discuss me or Frank. It was a gamble but I hoped Christian wouldn't mention it to her. Unfortunately, he mentioned it. He told Mary Jo that I came home in a great mood that night and perhaps she and I should get together more often. Mary Jo did not rat me out to Christian, which I would have expected. She invited me to breakfast that weekend and read me the Riot Act, however.

Mary Jo, ever the honorable and noble friend to both me and Christian, promised to delay telling Christian only long enough to give me an opportunity to do the right thing and tell him myself. I planned to tell him. I really did.

Before I had the chance to sit down and have a talk with him, we went to the firm outing yesterday. It was a total cluster fuck. We were seated with the managing partner and his uppity wife and the firm's head rainmaker and biggest playboy who was with some bimbo. Mary Jo and Frank came in all lovey-dovey and played their parts just perfectly. Christian was surly and sullen. I sat there like a bump on a log all evening long, watching Mary Jo's star rise high and bright while Christian's career finished crashing and burning. It was sad.

At one point I had the opportunity to add some remarks to the conversation that reflected well on Mary Jo. Even she caught it for once. She shot me a grateful look. I didn't look at Christian, but I know he was breathing fire.

He didn't come home with me last night, but he came in very early this morning. We talked. I told him about you. I told him a lot of other stuff. He didn't say much of anything other than that he thought it would be better if the girls continued to stay in this house. He is moving out.

God, I wish I could feel bad about that. Unfortunately, all I can feel is relief.

Mary Jo will get the nod for the partnership. Christian was informed that no partnership offer would be forthcoming this year, or ever. If he wanted to continue to work at F&J, it would be as a permanent associate. Not surprisingly, he resigned. That's his problem, not mine. Well, I guess it is sort of my problem. I hope he finds a new job so he can continue to support the girls. I'll get a job, but I can't maintain this house without his help.

I would love to be able someday to resurrect my relationship with Mary Jo. I feel sure she would still be friendly with me, but it would never be the same. I think I owe it to her to cut her loose at least until we have all had some time to cool off and allow our wounds to heal a bit. She has Frank and Melissa. She doesn't need me.

I'll have to move on with my life. My new life will include my girls, but I'll go forward without my husband or my best friend.

Lord, that's a terrifying prospect.

Chapter 7 -- Christian's Story

I'll have scotch on the rocks.

I'm glad you're not busy. I've always heard that bartenders make great confidants. I'm going to test that theory tonight. Just put the bottle on the bar. Help yourself if you're so inclined. I've got a room here, so you don't have to worry about cutting me off when I get really, really drunk. All you have to do is call somebody to help me to my room.

My whole world just imploded. In the past twenty-four hours, I lost my wife, my best friend and my job. Maybe I should have said that in the opposite order. Unfortunately, that is part of the problem. My job was always more important to me than my wife, my friends or my kids, for that matter, whom I didn't even think to include in the list of things I've lost. Now, I'm without all of them, and it's beginning to sink in how much they all meant to me, without my even being aware of it.

Well, perhaps it is not entirely true that it happened in just one day. The truth is that it has taken me years to destroy my marriage, a wonderful friendship and my career. The irony is that all of my self-destructive actions came to fruition simultaneously.

I am the son of an attorney of almost legendary skill. Both of my parents assumed, without ever asking me what I wanted, that I would follow in my dad's footsteps and be a lawyer too. When I was a kid I was very bookish and shy. Once or twice I dared to mention that I wanted to be a research scientist. That went over with my parents like a turd in a punch bowl. I never had the nerve to mention it again. My parents were determined I would become be a lawyer. So I became a lawyer to avoid the difficulty of arguing with them. Point one: the boy does not do conflict or confrontation well.

School was easy for me. I breezed through high school, university and law school with perfect grades. I loved school. I especially loved spending hours in the library. Before computers and the Internet, I used to love to lose myself for hours in the card catalog at the Public Library. Just reading the titles and synopses of the books that were available to be read was a thrill for me. While I would have preferred to be a scientist, I discovered that doing arcane legal research accomplished much the same thing. It was mind-bendingly complex and kept me locked away in the library for hours on end so I did not have to deal with people. Point two: the boy is not a people-person.

In high school I dated "society" girls mostly because my mother was one of the scrawny old witches who ran the Cotillion and her friends kept throwing their daughters at me. Eventually they quit. I guess the girls and their mothers discovered I was kind of a zero who probably would never be able to maintain a wife in the lifestyle the girls would expect. Maybe those girls and their meddling mothers were smarter than I gave them credit for. They had my number years ago.

In college I was generally too busy for girls. During my first year of law school I don't think I went out on one date.

I met Mary Jo Heinrich at the beginning of my second year of law school. She, too, had gone all the way through school up to that point with perfect marks. I heard she had achieved an almost perfect score on the LSAT. Word around the school was that even as a first year student she occasionally blew professors away with her deep understanding of the complexity and ramifications of the cases we studied. The word on her was that her writing skills were merely very good, but in every other area she was exceptional.

She was unusual in another respect as well. She was holding down a job while going to law school full time. Rumor had it she was poor.

Initially I sought her out mainly for the purpose of scoping out the person I knew to be my main competition for the top spot in our class. Research and legal writing were my best skills. That was my only edge, and it was not a very big one.

I was surprised to find that I liked Mary Jo. I liked her a lot. I had never met anyone like her. She was open and honest and utterly transparent, or so it seemed to me. She was pure of heart and she believed everybody else was as well. It was both attractive and kind of funny to see a student in the cut-throat environment of law school who was so totally without guile. In class and, later, in the courtroom, Mary Jo could and did go for the jugular every time. I've never known her to pull a punch in a professional situation. In her personal relationships, however, she's always been a total innocent. She has been fortunate in her life to have protectors and guardians to keep her from getting too badly hurt.

One of her principal guardian angels is my wife. Mary Jo and Annette were friends since childhood. More on that later.

Mary Jo fascinated me. Most people, including my wife and Mary Jo's husband, think I was in love with her. That's not exactly the case. I knew from the beginning that, while I was socially above her station, as a person Mary Jo was way too good for me. What I felt for her wasn't love, it was more like reverence. I put her on a pedestal and sort of adored her from afar. I never told her how I felt because I knew she'd tell me to knock it off and get real. Others interpreted my feelings for her incorrectly. I never did anything to disabuse them of their notions because somehow being in love with her would have been more acceptable than stupid idol worship.

A few months after we met, Mary Jo introduced me to her best friend, Annette Summers, a nurse at one of the local hospitals. Mary Jo clearly adored Annette and the feeling was apparently mutual. Mary Jo put us together and expected that, because she loved each of us, we would love each other. In a way, Mary Jo is no better at relationships than I am, she's just luckier.

I think Annette and I tried to make Mary Jo's silly plan work out, maybe partly because neither of us wanted to hurt her feelings. We were both ready to get married. We both wanted kids. Neither of us had any other likely prospects in our lives, so we started dating. We sort of liked each other, although I really can't say I ever was in love with her. If she were honest, I think she would say the same of me.

To Mary Jo's credit, in many ways Annette and I were suited to each other. She's a wonderful wife and a fantastic mother. She truly seemed to enjoy managing our home so I could concentrate on my work. We had similar tastes in a lot of things. We did not have a grand passion, I guess, but we got along well enough. In any case, Annette and I got married over the summer before my last year of law school. We moved into my family home, remodeled it and started a family. Our first child was born about three weeks after I graduated from law school. I think at first we were pretty happy. Or at least I was. I guess I never asked what Annette was feeling or wanted. Point next: as a husband, the boy is a pig.

My grades in law school and my family connections got me interviews at all the big firms in Cincinnati, and a few firms in other cities as well. I took a job at F&J because they offered to put me in the litigation department. Litigation was where my father built his reputation. It was what my mother expected me to do, too. The fact that I couldn't make the moot court team in law school should have told everybody I was not cut out for litigation, but no one was paying attention.

I had been at F&J for about a year when Mary Jo joined the firm. She had spent her first year out of school clerking for a federal judge. She loved that job and I feel sure she would have stayed there forever, but the judge felt she needed some experience in private practice and encouraged her try her wings. He used his influence to get her an interview at F&J. They fell in love with her and hired her immediately. They assigned her to the litigation department and a star was born.

I, on the other hand, was struggling to find my place. As long as they let me do research and write briefs, I was fine. When they put me in a courtroom or let me have any interaction with clients, things sort of went down hill. They didn't know what to do with me because, while a lawyer who can't deal with judges may be able to carve out a career in legal specialties outside of litigation, a lawyer who can't deal with clients is kind of a problem.

Mary Jo suggested a brilliant solution, and if I had listened to her I am almost certain I would be sitting at home playing board games with my kids right now. Mary Jo wanted us to work as a team. She actually wanted us to leave F&J and start our own practice. She never liked big firm politics. According to her plan she would be the litigator and handle client relations. I could do contracts work, legal research and run the back office of the business. I actually love all that back room accounting and business management stuff. I knew the first time she mentioned it that it would have worked out great.

But, I didn't listen to Mary Jo or to my heart because I was afraid of the confrontation that would have brought about with my mother. Sitting here today, I think Mary Jo and Annette could have more than handled Mother, but I never thought of that at the time. Point next: the boy is a wimp.

Instead, I continued (unsuccessfully) to try to fit into the litigation department against all odds.

When she came to work at F&J, Mary Jo was so task-oriented she never really bothered to take the time to network. She made it clear to everyone that she absolutely would not play any political games. She sort of went overboard in the staying-out-of politics area. She more or less held herself aloof from everyone except me. She trusted me because I was already her friend. We had lunch together often. We bounced things off each other. We sort of hung around with one another.

I was already considered to be a ladies-man. Or maybe that's what I considered myself. I think most of the women at the firm thought of me as something of a goat. Anyway, I was not exactly the model husband even then. Given my reputation for seducing new secretaries and associates, everybody assumed that I was screwing Mary Jo, too. I did nothing to dispel those rumors. In a way it sort of enhanced my reputation a little because Mary Jo was several cuts above the kind of skirt I generally chased. The talk damaged her reputation more than it did mine, especially considering that mine was already pretty bad to begin with. Point next: the boy is a bastard.

Despite what people may have thought of her morals, Mary Jo's career sky-rocketed. She was trying cases and taking depositions way ahead of the usual schedule. She tried her first case in her very first year at the firm. Granted, it was a bullshit pro bono case, but she did such a good job the judge called her supervising attorney at the firm to compliment her.

She had only been there about a year and the senior litigation partner let her participate as second chair in a huge trial. She did the closing arguments and wowed everyone in the courtroom. I was in the courtroom for the closing. She was incredible. The jury returned a huge verdict, and Mary Jo became the associate all he litigators wanted on their biggest cases.

Very soon after that, she met Frank Bennett. To this day, I cannot understand what in the hell she sees in him. He's an arrogant, mean, low-class son of a bitch who works as a traveling salesman selling make-up of all things. He's condescending as hell to me which really pisses me off because I can't imagine how he could dare to look down on me. I hated him from the first minute I met him. I have learned to tolerate him because he is Mary Jo's husband, but I have never trusted him.

He's nice to Mary Jo in public and she has always seemed happy with him. He is just so unbelievably mean, I've always thought he would be capable of terrible cruelty even to Mary Jo and their daughter. Mary Jo has never showed any signs of physical or emotional abuse, and I've watched her very carefully. I swear to God, I'd call the cops in a second if I had any inkling he ever hurt her. I wouldn't put it past him. If he's the kind of monster I've always thought he is, he sure as hell hides it well.

Mary Jo, who never, to my knowledge, dated anybody before Frank, fell in love with him hard and fast. They got married after only a few months and they started trying to have a family immediately. After a lot of heartache and medical intervention two years later their daughter was born.

Mary Jo's career stalled slightly during that period, but almost as soon as Melissa was born, Mary Jo was back in the saddle and more potent than ever. It was as though marriage and motherhood unleashed some kind of power in her that had been locked up and hidden before. She had always been a smart person and a good lawyer. She came back from her maternity leave like a mother bear. It was amazing to watch her in action.

The funny thing is that in her personal relationships Mary Jo isn't very perceptive. She doesn't pick up on subtleties in personal communications. She is not very intuitive, you might say. She misses almost all non-verbal communication in social settings.

Oddly for a person such as that, she has some kind of uncanny radar for lies when she is interviewing a witness. I have never actually been to a deposition with her but other attorneys and paralegals have told me that she can impeach a witness like nobody you have ever seen. Some of them said they would pray that the witness would lie so they could watch Mary Jo do her thing.

One story has reached the point of being firm legend. She was deposing an accountant who had allegedly stolen money from his employer. The employer filed a civil suit to recover the money because the prosecutor putzed around and didn't file criminal charges fast enough to suit the employer. The criminal trial had not yet taken place. The guy couldn't very well admit that he stole the money in the course of the civil suit, or he'd end up in jail for sure. Naturally, in his deposition, he denied stealing the money. Mary Jo took him through the whole story three times. Finally, when his attorney starting raising hell about Mary Jo badgering the witness, she started tossing out exhibits. One document after another, after another, after another. "Is that your computer user code? Is that your signature? Are these numbers correct? What happened to the money that doesn't appear on this document? Is this deposit slip made out to your bank account? Is it the same amount as the missing money on the previous exhibit?" She had documentary proof the guy embezzled more than $200,000. She laid it all out in front of him, one deposit slip at a time.

Finally, she had him in so deep all she had to do was ask the core question one more time. If he told the truth, he would go to jail for embezzlement. If he lied, he would be liable to prosecution for perjury. Mary Jo shuffled her papers for a long time. The witness was sweating and visibly shaking. His attorney wasn't in much better shape. Mary Jo had produced all that evidence to them in the course of discovery but they had apparently done a poor job of reviewing the boxes and boxes and boxes of accounting records she had buried it in so all of that evidence came as a surprise to the defendant and his attorney.

The attorney who told me the story said that the silence in the room was broken only by Mary Jo flipping through papers. That silence went on for more than three minutes. That's a long time to hold someone's future in the balance.

She didn't deign to look at the witness at all, but eventually, Mary Jo looked up at the opposing counsel. She smiled a sort of Cheshire cat grin and said, "Since I already know the answer, I think I'll save my last question for the courtroom..." she paused and leaned forward and said in a very low voice, ".... if we get that far."

That case ended with the thief agreeing to pay restitution and legal fees to his former employer. He copped a plea on the embezzlement charges, serving a reduced sentence which consisted mostly of a short house arrest and probation. Nobody mentioned the perjury again. Mary Jo never had to ask her final question.

Somebody told me later that the senior attorney on the case who was present at the deposition went into the bathroom and cried when it was over. Knowing him, that was probably true. He appreciates good legal technique like some people appreciate art. I guess it is in a way. If so, that was a virtuoso performance.

I was present one time when she did something almost as dramatic. It was not in a deposition. It was in a meeting with a client. A person requested our firm to defend him when his former employer sued him for allegedly violating a non-compete clause in his employment contract. A lot of the litigators liked having Mary Jo get involved early in cases like that because of her ability to sniff out a rat. They often invited me to participate in contracts disputes because I was considered to be something of a contracts nerd. Since we were lowly associates, usually Mary Jo and I didn't say anything in those meetings. I typically sat and listened. My work always came later when it came time to parse sentences.

Mary Jo always took copious notes in meetings.

That day she took notes as usual during the first part of the interview. At one point, she put down her pen and left it lying on her pad. She sat through the rest of the meeting with her hands folded on the table staring at the guy. The partner conducting the meeting worked with Mary Jo a lot, and he apparently took that for some kind of a signal. At the very end of the meeting the partner looked around the room and said, "Does anyone else have any questions?" Nobody said anything. He looked at me and said, "Mr. Davis?" I shook my head. He looked at Mary Jo, "Mrs. Bennett?" She started to shake her head then she made face that she told me later she hoped looked something like Lt. Columbo on TV and said, "Well, actually, I do have a couple of questions, if you will permit me."

The partner opened his hands in invitation for her to ask her questions. In a very pleasant, almost friendly tone of voice she asked him three questions which caused him to admit that he had in fact knowingly and intentionally violated the agreement with his former employer. The partner invited him to find a different lawyer.

After the guy left the conference room with his tail between his legs, the partner turned on Mary Jo. He was so pissed off at her, he screamed at her for ten solid minutes. I guess he suspected all along the guy had breached his contract, but once Mary Jo made the guy sit there and admit that he couldn't be trusted, we couldn't very well represent him. The firm that ultimately took the case billed over $800,000. They lost the case, but the firm made a lot of money, money F&J could have made if Mary Jo had kept her mouth shut and never flinched during the tongue-lashing. I don't think that partner ever forgave Mary Jo, and he won't work with her now.

Anyway, the point is, her career had all the signs of brilliance. I was floundering around doing nothing but getting in trouble.

Oh, and, by the way, even getting reamed out by a senior partner ended up enhancing her reputation because she sat there and took the ass-chewing without getting defensive, angry or crying. When he was finished, all she said was, "I understand how you feel, sir, but I respectfully submit that I felt ethically bound to ask those questions."

It has become a joke around the firm that when Mary Jo used the phrase "I respectfully submit" the person she is speaking to is about to have his balls handed to him.

Recently she and I were up for the same partnership position. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she deserves it more. Frankly, I was a little surprised that they didn't just give it to her this year and not go through the bullshit of having us compete for it like it was some kind of sports event. Since the partners are basically a bunch of sadistic bastards, they set up the competition anyway. It's kind of a firm tradition. Sort of like gladiatorial combat. In this case, it turned out to be a fight to the death: mine.

Sometimes it seems to me that they set the whole thing up in the manner they did in order to humiliate me. Or maybe that is me rationalizing the way I managed to humiliate myself at every turn. Point next: the boy is an incompetent boob.

They assigned us both to interview witnesses and collect documents in a large national corporate litigation case. Mary Jo hates to be away from her daughter and Mary Jo's husband travels all the time, so traveling imposed a huge burden on her. The partners knew it and put her on the road to see how she would handle it. She rose to the challenge and never let them see her sweat the child-care details. She embraced the assignment with relish.

On the other hand, while I liked the idea of traveling around the country in first class accommodations, I do not like investigating and I really hate interviewing witnesses, so I was totally out of my element. They sent me with her. I crabbed constantly about the assignment.

I think they also wanted to find out how we would behave alone together on the road without our spouses.

My wife was on my ass about traveling and leaving her alone. Mary Jo was on my ass about taking my wife for granted. The supervising attorney was on my ass because I wasn't accomplishing enough work for the hours I was billing. Firms like to bill a lot, but clients like to see some results for their money, so they tell me.

I felt as though I could do nothing right. Everywhere I turned, someone was on my case virtually every minute.

And for what? Mary Jo was going to get the partnership anyway. I really couldn't understand why we were even going through the whole worthless exercise.

To make matters worse, Mary Jo's husband started coordinating some of his business trips with ours so the two of them were able to meet up on the road. That made Mary Jo a hero to the client (she was only billing them for half her hotel bills since Frank's company was paying for the other half). They also did not expense their meals when they ate together without clients. She not only did great work, she was cheap to send on the road.

The other attorneys and paralegals (who are all gossips and vipers) saw the two of them together and learned that Mary Jo and my wife were friends. They put two and two together and understood that there had never been an affair between us. They suddenly realized that Mary Jo was one of the few young women associates with whom I had not had sex. Suddenly instead of being another one of my conquests, she was seen to be smart enough to have figured out a way to fend me off. That was, for most of the female employees in the firm, a huge pile of bonus points for her.

I ended up fighting with Annette at home and fighting with Mary Jo at work. I was miserable.

A few weeks ago, we went to Texas to pull documents from a warehouse. It was hot, dirty and miserable work. I hated it. Mary Jo seemed to be having a ball. She was so happy and cheerful, I wanted to smack her. I don't know what got into me but I got drunk at dinner and made a pass at her. I know, that doesn't make any sense at all.

Of course, she shot me down. I truly expected that. I guess I was sort of trying to get on her nerves so she wouldn't be so damned chipper. What I did not expect was the depth of the look of betrayal and hurt in her eyes the next morning.

To make matters even worse, the next night Mary Jo and Frank went out together. I went to dinner with some of the client's employees. I was trying to impress them, so I sort of shot off my mouth about some internal firm business. The client made sure my remarks got back to the billing partner on the case. My legal career in this town was over right then and there; I just had not yet been informed.

Last night we all went to a firm dinner at the country club up the road. Annette and I sat at a table with Mary Jo and Frank. We were seated with a couple of the top senior partners. The dinner was the fourth quarter in the partnership Super Bowl. Mary Jo was so far ahead it was mathematically impossible for me to turn it around; I kept wondering why the hell I had bothered to show up for the final blows to fall.

It seemed to me as though everyone at the table, including my wife, took great pleasure in humiliating me all night long. When dinner was mercifully over, Mary Jo and her husband went home knowing she had the promotion in the bag. My wife went home alone.

Before I had the chance to skulk off and crawl under a rock, the managing partner called me aside in the bar at the country club. He told me that the decision had been made that, based on my poor performance over the last few years and, in particular, my breech of confidentiality in Houston, I would never be invited to be a full partner in the firm. Out of respect for my father's memory and reputation, he had managed to talk the partnership into not firing me for cause. He told me that if I elected to remain employed, it would be in the capacity of a permanent associate. Naturally, I resigned, effective immediately.

My mother's second husband recently died in Florida. I think I'll go down there and stay with Mother for a while until I can figure out what to do next. Annette and the girls will stay here. I hope I can make enough money to support them.

Chapter 8 - Epilogue

Mary Jo turned into the driveway going way to fast and squealed the tires. Frank was already home. She expected to catch hell for speeding into the driveway, but she didn't care. She was too excited.

The partnership vote had been announced that morning. They had selected her! She ran into the house and skidded to a stop in front of Frank, who was sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee, looking morose.

"Put away that coffee, we're breaking out the champagne!"

He looked up at her and smiled rather vaguely, "So, you made it?"

"I sure did. You are looking at the newest partner in the firm of Friedman & Jostens."

"Congratulations."

Her back was towards him as she rummaged in the fridge for the bottle of champagne she had put there for this very occasion. There was something about the tone of his voice that seemed wrong. She turned around and looked at him carefully. He was making a valiant and totally unsuccessful attempt to seem happy for her.

She sat down next to him and put her hands over his and asked, with her heart in her throat, "What's wrong?"

He smiled and said softly, "I had a bit of a career development today myself."

"What?"

"The CEO of the American division of Arielle called this morning from New York and said she wanted to meet with me. She was on her way in the corporate jet. We had lunch on the plane sitting on the tarmac at the airport. She offered me the position of Director of Marketing for Arielle International. It's an Executive Vice-President level position."

Mary Jo gasped, "My God, that's wonderful! You totally deserve it after all your years of service with such unbelievable results." She reached over to embrace him.

He pulled away and said, very softly, staring into his coffee cup, "The job's in Paris."

She felt her emotions screeching around a corner on two wheels, but she scarcely hesitated. She clasped her hands in front of her and said, "Oh, my God! That's fabulous. Melissa can learn to speak French and I have always wanted to go to Europe!"

He looked at her for the first time, total bafflement in his eyes. She rushed to say it before she chickened out, "Apart from my career, is there any reason why you would not be thrilled beyond words to take this job?"

His expression, a mixture of disbelief and confusion, soon flickered with the tiniest hint of hope. He shook his head and looked back down at the cup in his hands.

She slapped her hands down on the table and stood up. "Good thing I bought French champagne to celebrate! How much time do we have to get ready?"

He blurted, "They're giving me three months to find a replacement here." He stopped and looked at her again, "Do you mean to tell me you would actually go with me if I took this job?"

She looked at him as if he had said something stupid, "Well, you don't expect me to let you go off to France with all those beautiful women by yourself, do you? And what's this 'if I took this job' shit. You'd better take it!"

"But you've worked so hard...... This partnership was your dream."

She walked up behind him and put her arms around him, and spoke to the top of his head, "Frank, I never dreamed of being a partner in at F&J or any other firm. To be honest, I'd have been happier going out on my own, maybe with Christian as my partner. Going after the F&J partnership was a kind of game I was playing because it was there in front of me. It was fun. It was even more fun when you joined the game. You and I worked together to get this partnership for me; it was kind of like playing mixed doubles.

"It would be fun to be a big shot partner at F&J, but it was never my life's dream. I never really had any kind of ultimate dream until I met you. The thing I want more than any other is to be with you. Here. In Timbuktu. Or, shoot, what the heck, I can make the sacrifice, – even, in Paris!"

She moved around to face him, took his hands and leaned towards him, and said softly "You have worked for Arielle for nearly 30 years. They're offering you a wonderful career opportunity. If you take this job, in a few years you can end your career at the very top of your profession.

"Of course, I want you to take it, and of course I will go with you.

"It might take me a little time to get reoriented to being an executive housewife, but I'll have plenty of money and I'll have Paris to explore. I think I can keep myself occupied. Oh, God, I can hardly wait!"

He leaned forward and put his head on her shoulder. His whole body trembled for a minute. Mary Jo couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. Then he looked up at her with love radiating from not only his eyes every pore in his body, and said, "Honey, I swear I will make this up to you."

She grinned and took his hands. "There is nothing to 'make up.' We're a team. In Cincinnati. In France. Wherever."

She stood up and said, "Let's go tell Melissa."

She stopped and turned to him. "Do you think we could take Grace with us? It might help Lissy in the transition and it would be sooooo cool for Grace. Plus, it would be nice to have a nanny we know and trust with us from the start. And I don't speak French – yet – so I'll need a nanny I can talk to."

He stood up and put his arms around her, "I think we can twist her arm. I happen to know she was considering trying to get into a foreign exchange program next year. Maybe this will prevent us from losing her altogether."

He kissed her and said, "I'll take three months to find my replacement. Then we'll go to Paris for a couple of weeks to find a place to live. Give me a couple of months to get acclimated and get the household squared away. You and Lissy can come at the end of the next school year."

"No way, Partner. We are a team. We go together. S'posin' we do this: I'll go into the office tomorrow and decline the partnership. There is no point in me paying for my share in the partnership if I'm not going to be there to get some kind of return on my investment. I'll give the firm one month's notice. That will give me two months before we leave to get this house ready to sell."

He shook his head and put up his hands, "No. Let's keep the house. We have redone it exactly the way we wanted it. I love our home. I think Arielle will expect me to retire in perhaps two to five years. I've served my time. They won't want me to hang on too long. We can have someone take care of the house or we can lease it out. When I retire, I want to come back here.

"With any luck, you could potentially pick up your career....."

She put her hands over her face, "Oh, what a great idea! I could do some post-graduate work at the Sorbonne. They have one of the world's great programs on International Law. The F&J executive committee has been dying to nab a lawyer who can do international work. A lot of Cincinnati-based companies do business in Europe. I'll bet I could lay the groundwork for a return to F&J in a few years to do international work! If we keep our house here, it may be an indication to the firm that I am serious about coming back."

She looked up into his eyes and grinned, "Oh, my God! I am so excited. We're going to Paris! We will have so much fun, and then someday we can come back here and I'll try pick up my career sort of where I left off.

"I can't wait to tell Lissy, and then call Mom.

He pulled her down on his lap and whispered, "But, first, let's open that champagne and celebrate, just the two of us."

She poured them each a glass of bubbly, raised hers and said, "To the _perfect_ partnership. Ours!"

The End

**Meredith Morgan** is a pseudonym for an author who grew up in the Midwest and now lives in Florida.

Born at the apex of the Baby Boom wave in the mid 1950's, every time she thinks of some great new, original idea or plan, she knows that next week it will show up on the cover of "Time" Magazine as the "Next Big Thing." She exhibits all the narcissistic Boomer neuroses, plus a few extra just to make things interesting, all of which she pours into her writing.

She enjoys walking the beaches, cooking (in theory if not in actual practice), and collecting odd, unusual and utterly useless bits of knowledge.

**Visit her blog at:** http://meredith-morgan.blogspot.com/
