Objection Overruled (17 page)

Jackie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser as she padded slowly to the bathroom. Hopefully, Marilyn kept a professional makeup artist on staff, because she needed it. Her eyes were puffy with black circles, the kind boxers got after suffering a knockout.

In the bathroom, Jackie slipped out of the nightgown and turned on the shower. She got a good look at the damage that gray sedan had done to her. Big angry scrapes covered her left arm, elbow, and shoulder. A blue-and-green lump bulged from her shoulder. A light poke to the spot evoked a loud “ouch” from her. Other than the eyes, her face was passable. Her head was another story. Her brain felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed too tight with cotton balls.

She avoided the road rash while showering but luxuriated in the scent of the rosemary mint when shampooing with her uninjured arm. After a pat down to dry, she put on the thick, white cotton robe hanging on the door. At what point was she going to wake up back in her cozy loft where the A/C struggled all summer long and the heat limped through winter?

A soft knock came from the bedroom door.

She wandered out into the bedroom. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly, and Marilyn, with her perfectly coifed hairdo, came into view. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Good morning to you. This place is amazing. Obviously, I’m paying you way too much.”

“Dearest, you don’t pay me, remember?” Marilyn smiled.

“Well, let’s just keep up the illusion that I do, and we’ll tack an overpayment to that fantasy, just to boost my spirits.” Her spirits were higher than she’d expected them to be considering that she’d been run down by a car hours after uncovering the smoking gun to her ticket to financial freedom and professional success.

The smoking gun—

Her messenger bag—

Why hadn’t she thought of this before? So much had happened so quickly in the emergency room, and then the pain pills knocked her out.

“Marilyn,” her voice was tight and panicky, “where’s my messenger bag?”

Marilyn brought her knuckles to her lips in thought. “The hospital gave me everything you came in with. It’s in that white plastic bag there. There was no messenger bag, honey. Are you sure you had it?”

“This cannot be happening to me.” Jackie pounded the air with her fists, then clutched her head. “Ow!”

“When was the last time you saw it?” Marilyn asked.

“It had the report in it. I took the report to Boggs’s office and reviewed it with him. I had it when I left, when the car hit me. Oh shit. I remember now, someone from the car pulled the bag off my arm. That’s when I passed out. Please tell me you made a copy of the report.”

“Of course I did. Now’s not the time for business, though. Let’s get some food in you first. I have breakfast ready downstairs.” Marilyn reached a hand out to Jackie.

“Food first. Sounds like a solid plan. I’m starving. What do you have?” Jackie followed Marilyn out of the bedroom and along a hallway covered in carpet equally plush as that in the bedroom.

“Nice place,” Jackie said with her eyes wide in amazement at the luxury of Marilyn’s home. The woman had been single her whole life. She was a legal secretary. Legal secretaries did not own mansions.

“Where are we? I thought you lived in a bungalow in Westgate.”

With a dismissive wave of the hand, Marilyn said, “Oh well, you know, I like to maintain my privacy, so I provide the Westgate address when necessary. My cousin Jimmy’s son lives there. Nice boy. This is my main house. We’re in Homeland. Here we go. Breakfast.”

Homeland. Just the swankiest address in Baltimore. Before Jackie could get her head around Marilyn’s alter ego, the breakfast table came into view.

Was she in heaven?

All of Jackie’s favorite foods were there, except in fancy versions. Beautiful pastries lay on a silver tray. Red filling peeped out from folds of golden dough dusted with coconut.

“Wow, high-end Zingers. Are you for real?” Jackie’s stomach rumbled, and the saliva was practically running out of her mouth.

“I certain hope so.” Marilyn giggled. “Dig in. Your coffee is on the table.”

The pastries, bacon, eggs, and more formed a mountain on Jackie’s china plate.

“Eat; then we’ll talk business,” Marilyn ordered.

“Mmmm, I’m good with that,” Jackie said between chews.

With the feast over, Marilyn ushered her into a room off the main entry hall. The wood-paneled room looked like a cross between an English manor house’s library and NASA’s mission control.

“So, what’s the deal with the big-screen TV and the computers and stuff?” Jackie touched a mouse to wake up a computer with a sleek, twenty-one-inch LCD monitor.

“I like to stay up to date, so I can surf the Net and watch TV in comfort.” A wink and a twinkle from Marilyn made Jackie wonder what else was up Marilyn’s sleeve.

“Timeout.” Jackie made a “T” with her hands. “This is like the freaking Bat Cave. Am I dead or just hallucinating?” Jackie narrowed her eyes. “Before we go any further, you owe me an explanation.”

“My dear, what is it you’d like to know?” Marilyn sat in the sleek black leather chair in front of one of the computers and gestured for Jackie to have a seat in the other.

“If you had all of this,” she said with a wave of her good arm around the room, “why would you work as a legal secretary for fifty years?”

“It is true that some of my fortune, or at least the more interesting possessions, like the art and silver, were inherited. But much of what you see has come from my own work.”

“As a legal secretary?” Jackie’s eyes were wide in disbelief.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, no.” Marilyn laughed heartily and waved her hands dismissively. “When I graduated from high school, women could not become professionals. I took the job with Mr. Fenton because he was somebody in this town, and I knew that being connected with somebody would be the only way I could get into the career I really wanted.”

Jackie leaned forward in her seat. “Which was…?”

“Real estate. With Mr. Fenton’s help, I bought my first house, then expanded to some rental properties, then some office buildings. The real excitement came when I got into strip malls in the early 1970s.” Marilyn leaned back in her chair and daintily crossed her legs.

“You’re a strip-mall developer? And legal secretary on the side? Come on.”

“Truly. I’m no longer focused on real estate, but for years, it was my passion. So much so that there was little room for anything else.”

Marilyn stared wistfully in the direction of one of the bookshelves. There was a photo of a couple, but Jackie couldn’t make out the details from where she was sitting.

“Working at Fenton & Stone provided me with knowledge and contacts. The work at the firm was never that challenging, to be honest, so I was able to moonlight a bit during the day with my own stuff. And I like the young people, like you.” Marilyn tilted her head, smiled warmly, and rested her hand on Jackie’s knee with a soft pat.

Jackie shook her head in stunned disbelief.

“It’s really not that complicated. Most of us humans aren’t. Maybe if you let go of that misperception, things would go a little easier for you.”

The hair on Jackie’s nape bristled. Did Marilyn think she was inept at relationships? Was she? She mumbled, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Marilyn uncrossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. “You asked for an explanation from me; now it’s your turn. If I’m to help you, and I mean help you, not just provide secretarial support services, I need to know exactly what your relationship is with Brandon Marshfield.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jackie crossed her good arm over her chest and hugged herself tight. With a push from her feet, she rolled back her chair to put some distance between herself and Marilyn.

“Bullshit.”

That threw her off balance. It was uncharacteristic of Marilyn to swear. Jackie stuttered some kind of lame denial about “nothing between us” and “just professional.”

Marilyn’s pursed lips said she wasn’t buying it.

“My dear, trust is essential for any relationship to succeed. When are you going to trust me? First, I’m not blind—I was in the hospital room when he kissed you. Second, I’m not stupid—that was not a random first kiss. There’s history between you two. And, if I’m not mistaken, enough fire to roast an entire buffalo in less than an hour.”

Jackie sighed, set her jaw firm, and looked away. A precise description of her relationship with Brandon eluded her. How the hell was she supposed to tell Marilyn about her relationship with Brandon when she didn’t know herself?

Marilyn continued, “I am here to support you, and if you’ll let me, to help you. You need to decide, though. I’m going for a walk in the garden if you need me. It’s actually a pleasant morning. The humidity broke. There are clothes for you in your bedroom.”

On her way to the terrace, Marilyn laid her hand on Jackie’s head and stroked down the side of her head to cup her face like a mother might do to a cherished child.

Jackie instinctively cringed at the sweet intimacy. She’d conditioned herself over the years not to enjoy something that could be taken away at the turn of a mood. When Marilyn let her calming touch linger, Jackie considered allowing herself to be mothered. Was it as simple as Marilyn suggested?

She forced herself to relax and let the warm, soft touch give her comfort. Marilyn gave her a gentle pat on her cheek and left the room.

Jackie wandered around, trying to maintain the calmness Marilyn’s touch had imparted. An assortment of books and expensive-looking collectibles filled the shelves. A few photographs were sprinkled around. She picked up the one that she thought Marilyn had been looking at. It was of a very young and stunning Marilyn in dark lipstick with a handsome man in uniform. The couple looked at each other with obvious adoration. There were no other photos of that man. No photos of any other men either.

Then a color photograph propped in the corner of a shelf caught Jackie’s eye. She recognized the door in the picture. It was the door to her office. When she got her official office space and the nameplate was hung, the maintenance guy took a photo of Marilyn and her. She’d forgotten about it.

Jackie went to the French doors. Marilyn strolled across the lawn, a basket on her arm half-full of flowers. Telling Marilyn everything would be like confiding in a mother she imagined. That thought produced a clutching pang of emptiness. She never had, and never would, confide in her mother.

Chapter Fifteen

Damp grass underfoot, Jackie followed Marilyn through the garden. Marilyn named flowers and bushes. Jackie was not the botanical type. The variety of geraniums boggled Jackie’s mind, still fuzzy from the injury. After two trips around the perimeter, their steps left a discernible path in the dewy grass. The time for stalling had ended.

“Can I be honest with you? And you won’t judge me?”

“I promise.” Marilyn’s blue eyes conveyed calmness.

“I’ll tell you about Brandon, but there’s more. It’s complicated.”

Jackie talked Marilyn through her decision to leave Fenton & Stone and her struggles over the past year as a solo litigator trying to find her own voice while being the voice for others who had been injured or aggrieved.

The picture of the handsome man in uniform came back to Jackie. Marilyn would understand. Holding nothing back, Jackie recalled the night with Brandon.

Although never the doyenne of the social scene, she’d experienced her fair share of casual physical relationships and a few one-night stands. Unlike her other experiences, sex with Brandon wasn’t just good or fun. It fueled her passions like gasoline on an open flame. Her inhibitions fell away like the skin shed from a snake. Somehow, she knew deep inside he not only accepted her but also affirmed her.

That night with him was more than a one-act play. They’d explored each other’s bodies, souls, and minds. When had she ever admitted to anyone her affinity for hotel-lounge happy hours? How she pretended to be someone other than her every day self? And what about confessing that her fear of bankruptcy dominated her life?

Since that first night with him, Jackie tried to convince herself that she’d imagined the connection with Brandon. Saying it out loud now made it real, though. Her heart longed for him. She knew enough of him to want more. Yet the thought of completely knowing him and being known by him terrified her. Would he pull her emotions to and fro like a yo-yo? Like her mother had?

She’d arranged her life to always be in control. She controlled witnesses and exhibits and arguments in the courtroom. She realized she’d lost control.

With Brandon.

With Marilyn.

She looked at Marilyn with wide eyes and an open heart racing with excitement.

Marilyn frowned, her lipstick bleeding into the little lines around her mouth. “And now you have to tear him down on the witness stand. This is complicated.” Marilyn paused and stood still.

Now that she’d opened herself up, she wanted the help to flow more quickly. Jackie cleared her throat, then nudged Marilyn. “So…”

“Hush. I’m thinking. Let’s go to the herb garden.” Marilyn led Jackie by the elbow to the circular garden of fragrant plants to an iron bench. “I like to think here. The scents clear my mind of clutter.”

Marilyn sat still as Buddha with her eyes closed and face turned up toward the sun.

Jackie counted the stalks on the basil plant in front of her. There would be a lot of pesto from that plant. She waved her hand in front of Marilyn’s face. Her gaze followed the path of a butterfly from the sage bush to a purplish, tall plant. Was it lavender? She leaned in, trying to catch a scent.

“Stop fidgeting,” Marilyn chided in a barely audible voice.

“Sorry,” Jackie whispered. “When are you going to be done thinking? Because I’ve thought a lot about this.”

Marilyn opened her eyes and shot her daggers with a sideways glance. “Obviously, you cannot be in a relationship with Marshfield as long as he’s the expert for the other side.”

“Obviously.”

Marilyn tilted her head. “Trial is less than a month away. Can’t you just play it cool with him until everything is over? Then pick up where you left off.”