Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Twenty

“There she is!” Paul Chapman bellowed when Sarah walked into the room. “Heard you lost your cookies. Hope it wasn’t something I said.”

Sarah gave him an unfriendly smile and greeted Marcela instead.

“Thanks for your help last week,” Sarah told her.

“No problem,” Marcela said. “You looked awful.”

“All better now, though,” Sarah said cheerfully. “Burke.” She nodded to her opponent.

“Sarah.”

Joe’s client sat at attention, hands clasped tightly in front of her, face tense with anxiety. Joe whispered to the woman, and she nodded stiffly. Sarah felt badly for her. She knew how stressful legal proceedings could be for people outside the profession. Many times she imagined her own parents having to sit through a deposition or a trial and having to face someone like Sarah whose sole goal was to pick their testimony apart and make sure they lost.

But no matter how much sympathy she had for the woman across from her—particularly since Sarah could still see the damage the hair iron had done to the woman’s head—she knew it was Joe’s job, not hers, to make his client feel better.

“Everybody ready?” Chapman asked. Marcela began typing as Chapman introduced himself for the record.

Then the new workweek began. “Ms. Hopkins, where were you born?”

***

Sarah had packed better for Montana. She checked the weather in Missoula ahead of time, saw that it would be cold and rainy, and packed tights to wear under all her suits, a full-length raincoat that would cover her past her knees, and the hat and gloves she’d picked up at the Walmart in Salt Lake City. She was done seeming frail and incompetent, too stupid to anticipate the conditions and know how to keep herself insulated and dry.

She also packed a set of resistance bands she borrowed from Angie so she could do some strength-training in her room in addition to running on hotel treadmills every morning. She needed to reclaim her healthy body. Needed to regain her balance.

With Joe as much as anything else.

It was the last week in November already, which meant she had survived eight full weeks of their grueling pace on the road. Montana and back to Utah and on to Idaho this week, Oregon next, then Washington and Minnesota before they all took a holiday break. A week and a half off, then back to work in January.

Looking at the schedule, Sarah couldn’t imagine how Mickey’s boss thought she’d be done by the end of February. Sarah always knew she wouldn’t be traveling to every single state—that would have taken months and months more, and the class certification hearing was already set for March—but still, now that she was on the hunt, she wished she could gather as much information as possible.

Maybe another temporary attorney in her position wouldn’t have bothered working the case so hard, but Sarah couldn’t help it. She needed to go for the A. It had nothing to do with beating Burke any more, and everything to do with her own pride and satisfaction.

Sarah asked her questions, and they let Ms. Hopkins go. Chapman had been speedier this time, and it was only eleven o’clock when they took their break.

“Wow, at this rate,” Sarah said, “we could actually fit in three depositions every day.” She said it sarcastically, but she was really feeling out the room.

When neither Chapman nor Burke took the bait, Sarah said, “I’m serious. Let’s think about adding more depos. I’d like to make it to the east coast by mid-January.”

“Why?” Joe asked.

Sarah turned to face him. He looked tired. He’d looked tired all morning.

“I’d like to do more discovery before the hearing,” she said. “If the three of us can agree to that now, then great. If not, I’ll file a motion with the judge. But either way, I want to talk to more of your clients, Burke. I’m sure you’re not trying to hide anything.”

There it is, she thought. He didn’t look so tired now. He looked angry.

“On the record,” he said to Marcela. The court reporter had to quickly set down her muffin and coffee, and prepare to type again. “Counsel for the plaintiff stipulates to expanding discovery to include additional depositions of parties. Names of deponents, locations, dates, and times to be determined upon consultation with opposing attorneys.”

He glanced at Marcela. “Off the record.” Then he leveled his gaze at Sarah. “Satisfied?”

“What do you say, Paul?” she asked, turning away from Joe’s eyes. “Now that you’re warmed up, ready for a marathon?”

Chapman bit down on a danish. “Don’t know why you have to make it so hard, Sarah.”

“I don’t know,” she answered, “maybe because they’re paying me?”

She’d already drawn up a preliminary schedule while Chapman droned on that morning. She showed the other two lawyers how they could fit in at least five more states, all in the Midwest and on the east coast, between then and the end of February.

Chapman glanced at the court reporter to make sure they were still off the record.

“You know it’s going to settle,” he said out of the side of his mouth as if letting them in on a secret. “Don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble.”

Burke smiled, but Sarah knew that look: Joe’s You’re a complete idiot look. “Of course we’ll entertain any offers your client wants to make, Paul,” he said. “And since I expect the judge to certify this as a class action, you should probably make me an offer soon, before that happens. But until then, if we’re in it, we’re in it. I don’t object to Sarah talking to every single one of my clients if she wants to.”

Sarah noticed he didn’t look at her. He wasn’t doing this for her benefit, she supposed, he was just reacting to the procedural aspects of the case, the same way he would if there had been any other attorney on the other side.

Chapman sighed. “All right, if you two are such gluttons. But I may start sending an associate to some of these. I still have work to do back at the office, you know. I don’t even get my weekends anymore.”

“You poor man,” Sarah couldn’t resist saying. “Whereas I go straight from the airport to a spa every Friday night.”

“See?” Chapman said to Joe, pointing at Sarah.

“I have the pink toenails to prove it,” Sarah added. She and her mother had enjoyed a ladies’ pampering night over Thanksgiving, and it was the first time in months any nail of Sarah’s had seen any color. Now that she thought about it, the idea of going from LAX to a spa sounded so heavenly—and out of reach—she wished she’d never brought it up.

“I’m going to lunch,” Joe said. “We’re back at one o’clock.”

***

The man stayed true to his word, Sarah thought. He barely looked at her if there weren’t some reason associated with the case, and he’d certainly been keeping his distance all day long. On the way back from lunch she saw him waiting to cross the street, and she knew he saw her, too. But he didn’t wait for her, didn’t try to initiate any kind of conversation, just pulled his suit coat tighter against the wind and strode back toward the hotel.

Sarah didn’t know what she expected. No, that wasn’t true, she told herself. What she expected was some kind of recognition that she was wearing their hat, their gloves, maybe pull some kind of comment out of him, even if it was sarcastic. Anything to acknowledge that yes, they had their moments the week before, and no, neither of them had forgotten.

But midway through Chapman’s ridiculous questioning of Burke’s next client, Sarah snapped out of it and realized what she was doing.

I’m chasing him again. I’m following him to the library, begging him to talk to me, and there he is with that girl, and he’s about to grab her ass—

“Your witness,” Chapman said abruptly.

“What?”

He checked his watch. “She’s your witness. I need to go make a phone call.”

Sarah checked her watch, too. It was only a little after two.

Chapman must have realized what he said, because he looked guiltily toward Marcela and said, “Not that last part—take that off. I meant off the record.”

Marcela looked to both Sarah and Joe. Sarah waved it off. “No objection. I don’t care.”

Joe nodded without looking up. “Fine.”

Chapman raced out of the room like he suddenly remembered he had a flight to catch.

“I just have a few questions,” Sarah told Joe’s client. She was surprised Chapman would let the deposition go on in his absence, but that wasn’t her problem. She introduced herself, asked her questions, and they were done twenty minutes later.

Joe escorted his client out of the room, leaving just Marcela and Sarah.

“That sounded so good!” Marcela said.

“What?”

“A spa.” She looked toward the door to make sure neither of the men were coming back in, and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ll bet we can find one.”

“Here?” Sarah asked.

Marcela sat down and started thumbing a search into her phone. “Four of them,” she announced. “You have a car, don’t you?”

A smile spread over Sarah’s face. “Do you want to?”

“I will if you will,” the court reporter answered.

Sarah took a deep breath. Flourish. She had been so careful with money, even once she started receiving a regular paycheck again, but maybe it was all right to loosen her hold on it every now and then. Maybe she was allowed a few luxuries, especially if a surprise opportunity presented itself.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s call and see if we can get in.” Then she added, “But you can’t tell the boys. Ever. I’m supposed to be as manly as they are.”

Marcela grinned. “Our secret.”

***

“You and Joe know each other, don’t you?” Marcela asked on the way to the massage studio. “From before, I mean.”

“Why do you say that?” Sarah asked, stalling. She didn’t really know Marcela, other than their polite interactions surrounding the depositions the past several weeks. Marcela had been the court reporter at more than half of them so far, and Sarah supposed she felt comfortable enough now to ask such a personal question.

But it wasn’t something Sarah felt comfortable answering.

“I could tell,” Marcela said. “By the way he picked you up and carried you when you were sick. And the way you put your arms around him and put your head on his chest. It looked like you’d done that before.”

Leave it to a woman to notice details like that, Sarah thought. She doubted Chapman would have picked up on it.

“We used to date,” Sarah confirmed. “A long time ago. But please don’t tell anyone—especially Paul.”

“What we say in this car stays in this car,” Marcela said. “Off the record. But it’s not illegal, is it? I mean, you can be an attorney against someone you went out with, right?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it, technically,” Sarah said. “There’s an ethical rule about disclosing to your client the fact that you might be married to someone on the other side, or related to them in some other way.” She remembered there being something about that on the California bar exam. “But I don’t think there’s any rule about telling people you dated someone once.”

“Then what’s the problem with it getting out?” Marcela asked. “I won’t tell anyone,” she hurried to add, “but I’m just curious.”

“I always think it’s best to keep our private lives out of cases,” Sarah said. “We’re all just here to do our jobs. Sometimes if people know too much about you . . . it complicates things.”

Knowing Joe was certainly complicating things for her.

“I heard he stayed,” Marcela said. “He didn’t go back until Thanksgiving.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“From one of the girls at his office.”

“See?” Sarah said. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want people knowing things about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcela said.

“No, it’s not you,” Sarah said with a sigh. She realized she’d sounded harsher than she meant to. She also knew she was particularly sensitive to the topic of gossip, having lived through a scandal earlier that year. She knew people had all sorts of opinions about her, including whether she had been more involved with the senior partners’ crimes than anyone let on. Maybe she was paranoid, Sarah thought, but maybe she had a good reason.

She parked the car and turned to Marcela. “There’s nothing between me and Joe now. We’re just friends—actually, not even that. We knew each other, then we grew up. The end.”

Marcela shook her head. “Didn’t look like ‘the end’ to me. You should have seen the way he looked at you. That’s how I knew.”

Sarah reached out and clasped Marcela’s wrist. “This has to stay between us. Please. It was a bad moment—I was sick. But it isn’t how things really are. So please just forget you ever saw it, whatever it was.”

Marcela smiled indulgently. “I won’t ever tell anyone, but just between you and me? I wish a man would look at me that way.”