My brows went up reflexively. “You’re leaving? Since when? What will you do?”
Freeman looked cautiously over his shoulder. “I haven’t told them yet, so keep it to yourself, but it’s time I went into practice on my own. Criminal law has never been important at Crawford—for years I’ve known I should cut the ties—but there are so many perks in a big firm that I just coasted along. Now the firm is growing so fast and so far away from the work I think is important, it just seems to be time to go. I’ll notify you officially—notify all my clients—when I’m actually on my own.”
A few clumps of people stood around talking, not wishing to head into the melee below. Freeman kept looking at them to make sure he couldn’t be overheard and finally changed the subject abruptly.
“My daughter’s here someplace, along with her boyfriend. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.”
“Yeah, I was wondering the same about the couple I came with. They’re not very tall—I’ll never find them if I head into the scrimmage.
“I wondered what brought Dick here. I’d have put refugees down near the bottom of the list of people he’d shell out for, kind of near women with AIDS. But if the firm is pushing Chicago Settlement I suppose he’s out in front leading the cheers.”
Freeman smiled. “I’m not going to comment on that one, Warshawski. He and I are still partners, after all.”
“He’s not the one bringing in the business you don’t like, is he?”
“Don’t sound so hopeful. Dick’s done a lot to revitalize Crawford, Mead.” He held up a hand. “I know you hate the kind of law he practices. I know you love driving a beater and sneering at his German sports cars—”
“I no longer drive a beater,” I said with dignity. “I have an ‘89 Trans Am whose body still gleams despite my having to keep it on the street instead of in a six-car garage in Oak Brook.”
“Believe it or not, there are days when Dick wonders if he made a mistake—if you’re doing things the right way, not him.”
“I know you haven’t been drinking, because I can’t smell it on your breath—so it must be something you put up your nose.”
Freeman smiled. “It doesn’t happen often, but the guy did think enough about you to marry you once.”
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Freeman. Or are you thinking there are days when I wonder if he’s doing it right, ‘stead of me? How many women are partners at Crawford now? Three, isn’t it, out of a roster of ninety-eight? There are days when I wish I made Dick’s money, but there’s never a time when I wish I’d put myself through what a woman has to do to make it in your kind of firm.”
Freeman gave a placatory smile and tucked my hand under his arm. “I didn’t come here to alienate my feistiest client. Come on, Saint Joan. I’ll clear a path to the bar for you and get you a glass of champagne.”
In the few minutes we’d been talking the shrimp mountains had disappeared and most of the strawberries were gone. The haunches of beef seemed to be holding their own. I scanned the crowd as we strolled downstairs but couldn’t make out Lotty or Max. Teri’s bronze dress had disappeared too.
I tried staying close to Freeman, but as we hit the ground floor this proved impossible. Someone cutting between us got my arm separated from his. After that I followed the close-cut gold hairs along his neck for a few twistings through the mob, but a woman in pink satin with trailing butterfly wings needed a yard’s clearance and
I lost him.
I moved with the eddies for a bit. The noise was intense, echoing off the marble pillars and floor. The sound filled my head with a white roaring. It became impossible to concentrate on any outside goal, such as looking for Lotty; all my energy had to go to protecting my brain from the swells of noise. No one could possibly carry on a conversation in this lion’s den—they all must be shouting simply for the pleasure of adding to the uproar.
At one point the jostling moved me close to the food tables. The men behind the haunches stood expressionless in their little island, only their hands moving as they sliced and served. The shrimp had vanished, as had all the hot food. All that was left besides the meat—now close to the bone—was the picked-over salads.