Anything You Can Do

chapter 12



"Since you're the official attorney of record, you need to sign this and get it to the court as soon as possible." Bailey slapped a file onto Margaret's desk. The pleading paper-clipped to the front of the folder was partially hidden by a handwritten memo, "Margaret, handle ASAP."

Margaret scowled as she pulled the file across her desk, lifted the memo, and scanned the pleading.

"I checked at the courthouse," Bailey went on, "and confirmed my suspicions. Our client is trying to perpetrate an insurance fraud. She's done it before, with the roles reversed."

"So you took it upon yourself to draw up a 'Motion to Withdraw as Attorney of Record.' You don't have the right to do this!" Margaret exclaimed, pushing the file with its attachment away from her. "This isn't your case."

Bailey folded her arms adamantly. She'd expected protests after their last conversation. "Every case in this office concerns every lawyer who's a part of the firm. Since I became involved in this matter with your approval, and since I'm the one with the crucial information, I feel my actions are appropriate."

"Fine, you just go on and feel that way, and I'll take care of my case." Margaret drew the folder back proprietarily.

"Very well." Bailey offered a single sheet of paper covered with her sprawling handwriting. "Then you'll doubtless want to take a look at this—my notes from the courthouse."

Margaret snatched the paper eagerly, glanced at it, then scowled. "It's a photocopy."

"Yes." Bailey smiled without mirth as she turned to leave. "I have the original in case you lose that one." She paused in the doorway. "I'll be back to pick up the signed Motion as soon as you've had time to study the facts."

With a great deal of effort, she refrained from slamming the door on her way out.

When Austin got back to his office, his secretary handed him a message that Stafford Morris had called. The merger, of course. With everything else that had been happening, he'd forgotten all about that.

Easing into his chair, he studied the message slip fixedly as though he could somehow find an answer in the printed form. Bailey had hinted so strongly that she could block the deal, but would she, particularly after Saturday night?

He smiled at the memory of the easy camaraderie at the race track. His whole body tingled as he recalled the soaring vibrancy of their lovemaking, and he reached for the phone.

Having made an appointment to meet with Morris that afternoon, he decided to wait until then and approach Bailey in person about dinner. Whistling softly, he turned to work.

When he popped into Bailey's office without warning that afternoon, she seemed to be in a foul mood, barking instructions to her secretary. However, he felt a warm glow inside when she looked up at his greeting, and her scowl turned into a smile that curved her soft lips and twinkled in her sea green eyes.

"Thank you, Sharon," she said to her secretary.

"We'll finish up later. Come on in, Austin. How about some coffee?"

"Can't," he replied, returning her smile, savoring her presence and her obvious pleasure at seeing him. "Got an appointment with the big guy. Maybe you could work me in for ten minutes after he's through with me."

Her smile faded slowly as he spoke. She picked up a file from her desk and looked at it, then laid it back down. "Sure," she said. A shadow settled in her usually translucent eyes.

"Great," he replied, not understanding her change. "Great. We can discuss our favorite case, new developments, uh, you know…" His voice trailed off as her entire face glazed over in ice.

"If you wish to meet with me on behalf of your client, contact my secretary and we'll schedule a conference."

Jeez, she was touchy! "That's not what I meant," he said placatingly. "I'd like to talk to you about some—" he lowered his voice— "other things. I just thought maybe you and I also have something to discuss about Candy and Alvin's activities."

He'd been ready to deal with some anger on her part when she found out she'd lost, but not this withdrawal, this twenty-degree drop in the temperature of the room. He'd expected—even anticipated—sparks and fire.

"Bailey," came an irritated voice from the doorway, "this Candy Miller deal—oh!"

Austin turned to see the rabbity-looking associate he remembered from the insurance company's deposition glaring at him from behind her thick lenses.

"Let me get back to you on that, Margaret," Bailey responded, icicles dripping from every word.

"That's okay," Austin said. "I need to get on to my appointment." He pushed past Margaret and moved into the hallway.

He wasn't eavesdropping, he assured himself, but his slow footsteps were probably a direct cause of his overhearing Margaret's angry comment just before she closed the door.

"I took it to Stafford. We can't just—" The door slammed.

Austin's steps became slower, but his mind raced. Can’t just what? Continue to represent a client who was perpetrating fraud?

It would seem that Bailey had no intention of admitting that her client was in the wrong. That knowledge hit hard. He'd expected more from Bailey—lots more. Never, no matter how angry he'd become with her, had he ever entertained the slightest doubt about her integrity. But even that associate knew Bailey wasn't acting ethically.

"Well, if it's not Jimmy the Greek." Paula greeted him with a big grin as he approached her cubicle.

"Hello, Paula," he replied, trying to pull out of his reverie and sound friendly, although small talk wasn't even a possibility considering the big things that were racing through his head. "I think your boss is expecting me."

She nodded and picked up the phone to announce his presence. "How about a cup of coffee?" she asked, ushering him into the corner office. "It's really concentrated this time of day. A few sips are all it takes. All you can take, too."

"No, thanks." He needed a drink, all right, but coffee wouldn't cut it.

When Stafford told him the merger had been voted down, he found he wasn't even surprised. Somewhere inside he'd known from Bailey's reaction to his appointment with Stafford. Through a haze, he watched the man's lips moving and heard some of the conciliatory phrases— "admire what you're doing," "recommend clients we can't handle," "just not right for us." He studied the long ash on the cigar Stafford waved around and tried to deal with his new knowledge of Bailey, a deceitful Bailey who voted against the merger just to win against him.

In hypnotic fascination, he watched the cigar ash drop onto a pleading clipped to the front of a file folder. Stafford brushed it away with no break in his discourse, but Austin's gaze remained riveted to the file. On the top left corner, a piece of notepaper printed with the words FROM THE DESK OF BAILEY RUSSELL partially covered the name of the case, but he saw enough to know it was a new pleading in the Service Insurance/Miller case. On the notepaper was the handwritten message in Bailey's unmistakable scrawl, "Margaret, handle ASAP." Bailey was pursuing the case when she knew her client's claim was fraudulent.

Austin realized Stafford had stopped talking. Turning his attention back to the man, Austin felt something freeze in his chest. The room took on a crystal clarity, every detail distinct. He could count the hairs on Stafford's balding head.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Austin said, responding to the comments about the merger. "Just for my edification, how close was the vote?"

Stafford chuckled quietly, complacently, Austin thought. "Can't tell you that. Doesn't really matter. Majority rules, one or seven."

And that, Austin thought, told him what he needed to know. Bailey had been included in the voting to make seven, and the majority had probably been by one vote. She had beaten him. Simply for the thrill of winning, she had sabotaged his efforts, his career, and was assisting in defrauding his client. She knew what she was doing was wrong. That's why she'd been so cold to him a few minutes ago.

Somehow Austin managed to stand, smile, and shake hands with Stafford. Paula's mouth was moving as he walked past her, but he couldn't hear the words over the roaring in his head.

Bailey's door was open. When he charged in, she stood, her ivory skin becoming even paler, her eyes huge.

"I had to do what I felt was right," she said quietly, her voice strangely calm considering the circumstances.

"Right?" he stormed. "All you want to do is win. Right isn't even part of your vocabulary."

Her gaze narrowed and her face flushed with sudden color. Splaying her hands on her desktop, she leaned toward him. "You're having a temper tantrum because you lost, and you have the gall to accuse me of only wanting to win?"

"That's right, trying to win at any cost, and I emphasize the word trying." He leaned toward her, narrowing the distance, getting so close, he could see the faint freckles on her nose, smell her clean freshness. His teeth clenched as he reminded himself her character was neither clean nor fresh.

"You win the merger deal," he taunted, "but I can tell you one case you're going to lose, though it won't be from lack of trying, will it? I know all about Candy's history."

She pulled back, and he knew he'd struck home. "So you end up being a party to a crime," he pressed on. "So what, as long as you win?"

"Get out of my office," she ordered, her eyes and voice glacial.

He stared at her for a moment, a deep sadness overwhelming him, replacing his anger. The realization hit him like a swift kick to the gut that he hadn't really believed the evidence until that moment, hadn't wanted to believe it. He'd expected her to deny it, tell him he was wrong. He turned away from her and strode out the door.

She slammed it behind him.

Bailey leaned against her door, trying to stop the trembling. She was angry, really angry. Through all their arguments, she'd never before felt like this, her stomach churning, her chest clenching, and, damn it, tears somehow finding their way out of her eyes. This was a fight, not an argument, not a contest. Austin had attacked her, and it hurt.

He must have won. She certainly hadn't.

She had expected he'd be a little upset about the merger, and she'd been prepared—not eager but ready—to deal with that. But apparently he thought she'd known about Candy all along and was so immoral, she'd defend a criminal. Win at any cost. Obviously he didn't have a very high opinion of her. She wasn't prepared to deal with that. She'd thought they were at least friends—well, friends with the added spice of sexual attraction thrown in. She'd begun to feel comfortable with him, close to him, especially after Saturday night. His words today were like a slap in the face. Obviously he didn't share her feelings.

She moved slowly back to her desk, to her work.

She'd pull out a file and get busy, forget the cruel things Austin had said. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd won.

But it was the first time it mattered, the first time it hurt.

She snatched a tissue and blotted her eyes. If she didn't get those damned tears stopped soon, she'd be sobbing. She pressed the tissue hard against the corner of each eye, trying to push the treacherous moisture back inside.

The intercom on her phone buzzed. She took a deep breath and answered it.

"Come see me," Stafford snapped, then hung up. Bailey slammed the receiver down, though it was too late for him to know it. Was there anybody else, she wondered, who would like to yell at her today?

She dug out the original sheet of yellow legal paper covered with names, case numbers, and other information she'd gathered at the courthouse. She was prepared for this confrontation.

She reached Stafford's office dry-eyed. After knocking twice, she entered without waiting for an invitation.

"Come in." He looked up as she flopped into a chair, but then he immediately returned to the paperwork on his desk. As though it were more important than she was, Bailey thought.

"You wanted to see me," she announced, ordering herself to control her temper.

"That girl who's handling Miller—" He waved his arm in the air interrogatively.

"Margaret," Bailey supplied.

"Margaret brought me that file. Said you tried to get her to sign this 'Motion to Withdraw as Attorney of Record.'"

"How nice that she understood my request."

"You want to tell me why?" He flipped through the file.

"I told you why once. Now I have the proof." She tossed the paper onto his desk. To her dismay, it floated gracefully down. A sheet of paper didn't make a good throwing object.

"Hmmph. I can't read this. What is it? Shorthand?" He turned the notes back to her.

"No, it is not." Bailey at least had the pleasure of snatching it away from him. She read off the names, dates, and details of the previous, similar suit. "About the only difference, other than Candy's boyfriend's name, is that she was the one who ran into the boyfriend that time, and her insurance company was the one that got sued."

"And you think that proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she's a fraud?" He rummaged in his desk drawer, came out with a cigar, and began rolling it between his fingers.

"It proves it to my satisfaction. Have you met the woman? She's horrible."

"Horrible people have a right to legal counsel too."

Bailey folded the sheet of paper and creased it firmly between two fingers. "Fine. We're not the only legal counsel in town. Let her go elsewhere."

"We agreed to take her case."

"Before we were aware of the facts." She folded the paper again.

"The facts being that she's been involved in a personal injury suit before, she’s having a relationship with the defendant, and she's horrible."

Bailey slammed her fist down on the desk. "What is the deal here? She's not one of our major clients. How did we get her in the first place? Is she somebody's sister? Is she sleeping with somebody important? We don't need her business, but we do need our good standing in the legal community."

Stafford nodded and turned his attention back to the file. "I'll go over it." He stuck the cigar in his mouth.

In disgust, Bailey turned to leave, but Morris' voice stopped her. "Your notes."

"What for?" she demanded. "You can't read them."

He held out his hand and smiled. She passed him the multi-folded paper and rushed out before she said something she'd probably regret. Probably, but not definitely.

*~*~*

"The man is a total, one hundred percent perfect jerk!" Bailey shouted as she pulled on her running shorts and dug her shoes out of the closet.

"Will you come in here so I don't have to yell?" Paula called from the living room.

"Only if I can continue to yell." Bailey stomped across the room and flopped onto the floor in front of the sofa where Paula sat drinking a glass of Zinfandel wine.

"Can you sort of start at the beginning and tell me in chronological order exactly what happened?"

Bailey jerked her shoelace tight then cursed when it broke. "Austin's been trying to get our firm to merge with his."

"I know all that," Paula interrupted. "Get on with the story between you and Austin."

"You know about the merger?" Bailey asked, pausing in her attempt to rejoin the pieces of her shoelace.

"You didn't think Stafford Morris typed up the notes on the merger that all of you had to read, did you?"

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

Samantha leapt off the sofa and pranced over to crawl in Bailey's lap.

"Good grief, Bailey. You should know a legal secretary's job is confidential."

Bailey stroked Samantha's soft fur and cuddled her to her neck, feeling some loosening of the constriction in her chest. "Not confidential from somebody who already knows."

"You never brought up the subject. Have a glass of wine. You can't run with a broken shoelace." She shoved a full glass across the coffee table.

"I can run barefoot if I have to," Bailey declared, and Samantha squirmed at the angry tone. "Sorry, darling." She scratched a fuzzy ear then slid the dog back to her lap while she resumed work on the shoelace. As dispassionately as possible, Bailey described Austin's violent entrance into her office.

"I just can't believe he would get so mad at you over a stupid merger," Paula interrupted.

"Believe it. He did. He was vicious." Both shoes tied, Bailey set Samantha on the floor, put her feet together, and began to bounce her knees, stretching her thigh muscles.

"Did you try to explain your reasons?"

"Yes, I did. I told him I'd done what I considered the right thing, and then he accused me of representing Candy Miller even though she's a fraud, which is just what your boss is trying to make me do."

"So then did you tell him what you'd been doing about it?'"

"Why should I? If that's what he thinks of me, I don't want anything to do with him." She stood and began stretching.

"He'll get over it," Paula encouraged.

"How nice for him. I won't."

She headed for the door. Behind her she heard Paula say in a voice obviously meant to be overheard, "Samantha, I think your mommy's in love."

Bailey charged down the stairs and forced her legs to carry her across the parking lot, toward the street. Any minute now, she told herself, her muscles would become properly oxygenated, the adrenaline would start to flow, and she'd begin to enjoy this. The sun blazed heat down on her, and the concrete slammed it up into her face. Running in an oven took a lot of effort.

The run ranked right up there with her first venture out after a bout with pneumonia three years ago. Her legs felt like rubber bands, and each foot seemed to weigh twenty pounds. This business of fighting for real and dealing with scrunched-up insides apparently took a lot of energy. Not a pleasant thought.

Other thoughts dogged her, too, thoughts that involved running with Austin. And she had been, she realized, running with him. Until today, their competition had been a form of togetherness, a closeness. At least, it had been for her. Apparently the same wasn't true for the creep.

After only a mile, she headed back home in exhaustion.

"All right," she gasped, almost falling in the door, ''I'm ready for wine now."

As she slumped on the sofa, Paula shoved a glass in her hand. Samantha climbed to her shoulder and licked her sweaty face.

"To my friends," Bailey declared, laughing and raising her glass of wine. "Even though one of them has her head screwed on crooked." Bailey took a big gulp and was glad she had done so when Paula spoke again.

"I've got it all figured out. By now Austin's probably feeling as rotten as you are, so you need to just pick up the phone and call him and explain."

Bailey pulled herself upright. "Is it your hearing or your comprehension that's defective? If I saw that man coming down the street, I'd go ten blocks out of my way to avoid him. Unless, of course, it had been raining and he was walking close to the street in a white linen suit and a car was headed for a huge puddle two feet away from him. Then I might stop to watch."

"Okay," Paula agreed. "You're hurt. We'll leave it alone for right now."

"I am not hurt, but I would appreciate leaving it alone."

The three of them sat silently on the sofa while Bailey cast about for something to say. Her whole mind seemed to be filled with thoughts of Austin the Arrogant Creep. The only other thing she could dredge up was her visit to Stafford's office. And if she lost her partnership by losing her temper, she could lay that at Austin's door too. Because of his tantrum, her temper had been a lot more volatile than normal.

But at least she'd come up with a new topic for discussion. "I suppose, since you seem to know everything else, that you've heard about the new partner," she ventured cautiously.

"I thought you'd never tell me!" Paula exclaimed, smiling broadly and refilling both glasses. "Let's drink to that. Congratulations." She raised her glass in a toast.

Bailey grinned, a small ray of happiness shining through her gloom. "I wanted you to find out at the fiscal-year-end party. I wanted to march up there in some gorgeous dress I don't own yet and look back to see you watching. Gordon already knows too. But you both have to promise to act surprised and excited!" She leaned back on the sofa and sipped her wine. "I don't know why they make such a big deal out of keeping everything secret."

Paula shrugged. "It's like little kids when they have a club with lots of club secrets that aren't really secret and don't really matter anyway, but the kids get off on the secrecy idea."

Bailey burst into laughter. A good friend and a little wine after a run when one's heart was pumping furiously could effect marvelous mood changes, she decided. "You have a way of putting things into perspective. Stafford would be lost without you," she said.

"I know that, but he doesn't."

"Well, he will. I'll tell him. Just as soon as I'm officially a partner. You deserve recognition for your efforts." A sudden thought struck her. "Does Stafford pay you enough? I don't see you going on any spending sprees. "

"Do they pay you enough? Does anybody ever get paid enough?"

"Sometimes." Bailey watched her friend's face closely.

Paula refilled their glasses again and drained half of hers. "That may well be, but I doubt that any of those sometimes ever happen in a legal secretary's life. And let me explain something else to you while we're on the subject of our different stations in life. In case it's escaped your attention after all these years, secretaries don't attend parties with attorneys."

Why was Paula suddenly so defensive about her job? Bailey had never considered that they had different stations in life.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"Wake up, Bailey. Your little scenario where I get to see you made partner isn't going to happen."

Bailey set her wineglass on the table. Her mouth went suddenly dry. "You won't be there because you're a secretary? You also happen to be my best friend, and this will be my moment of glory. You and Gordon will both be there."

Paula stood. "I'm going to bed now. You'd better do the same and try to sober up."

Bailey didn't think she'd ever been more sober in her life.

*~*~*

"That just doesn't sound like Bailey," Gordon protested, signaling the bartender to bring them two more beers. "Her ethics are like everything else about her, black and white. Why, she jumped all over me one time because I pulled an uncanceled stamp off a letter. "

"Evidently they shade into gray when it comes to winning," Austin said, dragging one finger through the condensed moisture on the outside of his beer mug. He'd felt a night on the town and a few drinks would be just the ticket to clear Bailey's treachery from his mind. However, the beer tasted as bitter as his thoughts, and he found he would prefer to be at home by himself where he didn't have to make conversation.

Gordon shook his head. "No, I just don't buy it. You need to talk to her, give her a chance to explain."

Austin signaled for a fresh beer. Maybe this one would taste better.

He lifted it to his lips. It didn't. "Explain what?" he asked. "That she knocked my career in the head for the sake of winning, that she'll represent a client she knows is a fraud just so she doesn't have to admit defeat?"

Gordon laughed, an action Austin felt was totally inappropriate considering the seriousness of the situation. "Lighten up," Gordon said. "I seriously doubt that your career's ruined because you didn't get our firm. And I certainly don't think Bailey's so dumb or so spiteful as to base her career decisions on a chance to score a point in this endless contest you two have going." Gordon shifted on his stool to face the mirror behind the bar. "To tell you the truth," he continued, raising his beer in a salute to the reflections, "I'm glad it didn't go. I like things the way they are, and I sure don't want to have to work as hard as you do."

Austin scowled at the images in the mirror, one radiating sunshine even in the dark bar, and the other—himself—adding to the gloom. Okay, he had to admit, maybe Gordon was right. Probably he was right. Okay, so his friend was definitely right. So why did he still feel lousy?

He tilted his glass from side to side, watching the bubbles float around, examining the thoughts floating around in his mind. "I guess maybe it isn't the merger that's bothering me the most. That sort of lost its critical aspect when I found out the old grouch refused to hire me because of his own skewed perception of the ingredients for a successful firm, not because of my lack of qualifications. I guess the important issue here is Bailey's lack of morals in that asinine lawsuit."

Gordon nodded slowly. "Interesting," he said. "If this was just any lawyer we're talking about, you wouldn't be angry. You'd be excited about ripping their client to shreds, presenting your client with a real coup."

That was true, Austin had to admit. "But Bailey isn't just any lawyer. She's—" He halted in midsentence, swallowed hard. She's the woman I love, he'd almost said. And even as he choked back the words, he knew they were true.

Good grief! What on earth could he do now? Setting aside the more obvious problems like their constant competition, how could he love an unethical attorney? His career, his life, were built on the preservation of justice and equity. How could he love someone who apparently didn't know the meaning of those terms? True, he admired her courage and her determination to win, but not when it meant dishonesty, a breach of ethics.

"She's what?" Gordon asked impatiently.

"Huh?"

"Bailey. You said she isn't just any lawyer. So what is she?" The smug look on Gordon's face suggested his friend had a good idea of the gist of his unfinished sentence.

But Austin was having enough trouble facing the knowledge himself; he wasn't ready to admit it to Gordon just yet. "She's pushy," he said. "Pushy, irritating, arrogant." He hesitated again, at a temporary loss for adjectives. Brilliant, exciting, sexy, and fun were the only ones that came to mind.

"Yes?" Gordon prompted.

Austin sighed as images of Bailey danced through his head—Bailey's sweat-damp, exultant face after a run; Bailey expertly taking down the detective at the deposition; Bailey, sassy and sexy in that horrible wig at the bar; Bailey's ivory skin in the moonlight after they made love. Damn!

"She has the morals of a television evangelist," he growled, more to convince himself than Gordon.

Gordon shook his head. "You're wrong. I don't know what's going on, but I do know you're wrong. You've made a judgment based on circumstantial evidence."

Austin belted down half his beer in a sudden burst of anger, though he wasn't sure if the anger was directed at Bailey, Gordon, or himself. "After I left Stafford, I came right out and asked her about it, and all she did was order me out of her office. Slammed the door behind me. You don't consider that confirmation?"

Gordon laughed. "Bailey slammed a door? No, I don't consider that confirmation. I consider that anger and pride—qualities both of you seem to have an excess of. See that pay phone over there? Go call her and give her a chance to tell her side of the story. Isn't that what the law's all about? Innocent until proven guilty?"

Austin flinched at the way Gordon contrived to use his own ethics against him, and for a moment he considered taking his friend's advice. Gordon seemed so positive, and Austin wanted to believe him, wanted to believe in Bailey's innocence.

"She'd only hang up on me," he concluded. "She's already done that once, not to mention ordering me to leave her office and slamming the door behind me. I'll be damned if I'll give her the chance to do any of it again."

"Good boy," Gordon drawled. "Win at all costs."