Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (27 page)

~*~

Kate
was finally able to meet with
D'arcy and her mother after waiting for almost two weeks. She was excited to
resume reconciliation sessions, but filled with trepidation before the prospect
of confronting the issue of her alleged professional misconduct with D'arcy and
the formidable Madame Duchamp.

 She had to be perfectly clear in her mind how she
would address the issue of her relationship with Simon
and
believe her own story, or
she would never come across as sincere. Securing their confidence was critical
for her plan. She had to win over D’arcy’s mother if she hoped to persuade her
to meet privately with Eli. Kate had to make sure the meeting went ahead as
planned or she’d need a new plan.

Her case files were spread out on the dining room table.
Oscar leapt up and spread his mangy body out across her papers, flicking his
bent tail and tossing her a feigned look of disdain. “Oh, you’re not fooling
me, you old baby,” she crooned and gently plucked him off the files to curl him
onto her lap, stroking him.

Only a few minutes had passed when the phone rang and,
expecting it would be D'arcy with some question or change of detail, she
answered it formally, but with a smile in her voice. “Kathryn O’Day,” she said.

A moment passed. “It’s Tuesday. I miss seeing you,
Kathryn O’Day,” said Simon in a gentle, playful tone.

Oh! Her heart rate shot through the stratosphere, sending
adrenaline through her veins. He was the last person on earth she’d been expecting.
Kate had spent a good deal of time and energy thinking about Simon, but that
was a far cry from being ready to talk to him. A fluttery feeling in her belly
told her she wasn’t prepared. In her astonishment, she actually forgot to
reply.

“That bad, eh? I was kind of hoping you’d be glad to hear
my voice,” he said.

“Uuh.” Glad to hear his voice? The sound of it sent her
head spinning and her pulse racing. She was overjoyed to hear his voice, she
wanted to leap for joy. But that was bad. On the one hand, she’d committed to
postpone dealing with this relationship until the case was over. On the other,
she remembered her vow to Eli, and tried to calm herself sufficiently to say
something warm and friendly, and yet retain some dignity. What would he think if
I suddenly came on like a schoolgirl with a crush, or an old lover keen to
rekindle the flame? While she was in some respects both of these undesirable
things, she certainly didn’t want to appear so. Oscar batted her idle hand and
she resumed scratching his chin.

“Kate?”

She put a hand on her heart to steady it. “Sorry to sound
so stunned. I haven’t heard from you in awhile and I’m afraid my mind was
elsewhere.”
I sound like a ninny!
She was trying to convey so much with just a few words and the tone of her
voice, she could hardly think at all.

“I was only checking to see if you’ve made any progress
with D'arcy and Eli. I’m afraid I’ve been quite delinquent for the past two
weeks. I haven’t even spoken with Eli since he walked out.”

“Really? I’m surprised.” She hadn’t missed the dejection
in his voice. Her recovery had been too slow; he had mistaken her hesitation
for disdain. A weight settled to the base of her stomach.

“I’m off to meet with D'arcy this afternoon… ” she
paused, “ … and her mother. They’ve just returned from Montreal together.” She
waited for his reply.

“O-oh?” He sounded uncertain. “And how are you planning
to handle that?”

“We-ell. I don’t know what to expect from Madame Duchamp,
of course. But I’m going to try to get her to agree to meet with Eli.”

“You’re crazy. Eli won’t go for that.” Simon’s voice held
more than a hint of concern. “That’ll be a disaster.”

“You really are out of touch. Eli and I have an…
understanding. It was his idea to meet her alone. He’s going to confront her.”

“About what?”

“About the $100,000 bribe they offered him seven years
ago,” Kate revealed this jewel with smug amusement in her tone, anticipating
Simon’s reaction. He did not disappoint her.

“Je-sus!” he breathed. “I knew there was something there.
But I never imagined… ” he tapered off.

“Yeah.” Kate bit her lip, pondering her next words. “I
really think this needs to happen to unlock this issue for Eli and D'arcy.” She
chose not to mention her concern over the complaint. She would deal with that
on her own.

“I see… ” The silence stretched out, brittle and
uncertain. “Well, I guess you’d better get ready then.”

Oh. She didn’t want to let him go so soon. “I… uh… I’ll
let you know how it goes, okay?”

He didn’t immediately reply. “Sure. That’d be good.” Was
it her imagination or did he sound despondent?

Say
something else!
Her mind screamed, though nothing came to her. “I’m
really glad you called. It was nice hearing from you.” That was pathetic. He’ll
think he’s being dismissed.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll see you next Tuesday, if all goes
well.” His voice was tense and awkward now.

Instead of saying good-bye, she waited, undecided.
“Simon?”

“Yup?”

“I… uh... miss seeing you, too,” she finally gambled, her
heart thumping in her chest. What if he’d reconsidered his interest in the last
two weeks? She had been anything but encouraging, or genuine, for that matter.
Maybe he was tired of her games and thought her ridiculous. “It’s always nice
to talk things over with you. You always understand,” she added for insurance.
What a coward I am!

His long silence did nothing to pacify her. “Okay. I’ll
see you then,” he finally said, his voice thoughtful. He said her name softly,
in a hopeful whisper. It felt like a caress. She set the phone tenderly back in
its cradle.

Two and a half hours later she had reviewed her files,
made a page of notes and outlined a rough agenda for the meeting. She took a
deep breath, gathered her papers and her coat, and called a taxi. If the
weather hadn’t been so godawful all month, she could easily have walked over to
the Hotel Vancouver, but the rain hadn’t let up for weeks. She had begun to
feel she would never see the sun again.

Twenty minutes later, she was in the elevator heading up
to suite number ten. On the way, she’d struggled, not entirely successfully, to
keep her focus on the case and not let her thoughts drift to Simon. She did,
after all, have to be prepared to discuss her relationship with him with Madame
Duchamp and D'arcy. If only it were simple. She could hardly answer her own questions
about her feelings for him, let alone theirs. But she did know that she had
them and they continued to overwhelm her. Whatever happened, they weren’t
through yet.

The broad corridor held the hush of an old world hotel in
its thick, plush, bordered carpet, deep crown moldings and paneled wood doors,
an impression they undoubtedly endeavored to maintain. She passed one discrete
bellhop, who made himself silent and invisible.

When Kate knocked, D'arcy opened the door with a wan
smile, and invited her into the deluxe suite. It was not overly spacious, the
constraints of the old hotel’s walls overwhelming any efforts to modernize, but
these limitations were more than offset by the quality of traditional
appointments. Darkly polished Louis XIV furnishings and heavy tapestry
draperies, sparkling chandeliers, gilt trim and gleaming brass fittings created
an old-world elegance.

“How nice to see you again.” D'arcy moved aside, and
gestured with a sweep of her limpid arm for Kate to enter. There was no sign of
Madame Duchamp. “Mother will be out in just a moment.”

Kate took a seat at the round mahogany table to one side
of the sitting room, understanding that she was to wait for an audience. Some
things never changed. She smiled at D'arcy.

“How was your trip?” She made a point of seeming relaxed,
shucking her coat and tossing it over a chair and reaching for her briefcase.
It occurred to her that D'arcy was perhaps the most tense of all of them and
Kate should do her best to set her at ease. “Here, sit down and talk to me.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” D'arcy asked, standing
awkwardly a few feet away. Kate studied her oddly shy demeanor. Her formerly
cherubic but chiseled face was now just plain plump though her complexion much
improved. She wore her usual dark shadow and eyeliner and thick long lashes, as
well as shimmering rosy lipstick. The pale lips and dark eyes in the round,
porcelain face brought the idealized beauty of Noh theatre masks to mind. Kate
imagined she’d had a couple of weeks of good sleep and pampering at home. Odd
that after six years of marriage, her parent’s home might still seem more hers
than the one she shared with Eli.

“No, thanks. Water’s fine,” she replied with a wave of
her hand, noticing the cut crystal water jug and glasses standing ready on a
tray. Before D'arcy came closer, Kate noted that she seemed heavier altogether
and lacked a distinct waist. She wore a knee-length blush pink cashmere
cardigan over a loose-fitting blouse, the crisp white collar points drawing
attention to D’arcy’s graphic features and gleaming dark pageboy, expertly cut.
The hard edges of the shirt and hair almost succeeded in distracting from the
ample femininity of her other parts. Her breasts, for one thing, were fuller,
and the blouse could no longer disguise the swell of her abdomen beneath the
pleats. A light blinked on in Kate’s head, and her mouth dropped open with a
gasp. “My God, D'arcy! You’re pregnant! I can’t believe it!” She shot to her
feet, just as D'arcy had pulled out a chair.

D'arcy looked chagrinned as Kate embraced her, laughing.

“I guess I can’t hide it any longer,” she said meekly.

“Does Eli even… ? You must be months… ” She stood back,
gripping D'arcy by the shoulders and compelling her to meet her eyes. D’arcy’s
only reply was to shake her head and drop her eyes. “This is a much bigger
muddle than I thought. Why did you keep it a secret?”

“I imagine that is a woman’s prerogative, don’t you, Miss
O’Day?” interrupted a rich, sonorous contralto from the doorway to the adjacent
bedroom, a voice she instantly recognized. Kate stiffened and looked up,
curious and uneasy.

Kate corrected her posture. “Up to a point, Madame
Duchamp, I suppose, depending upon the circumstances.” She stepped toward the
sturdy, round-faced grey-haired woman who had just entered the room, extending
her hand. “How do you do?” Kate was stunned; not only did she sound like the
Queen, she even bore a resemblance, less a decade or so. She might have laughed
were she not so intimidated.

Lowering her heavy-lidded eyes in disdain, D’arcee’s
mother ignored the offering, turning to close the door, and swept haughtily
into the room toward the table. “Please sit down.” Kate had met other women
like her before. She was of a certain generation, accustomed to privilege and
power and her style reflected this. She filled a well-tailored short jacket in
quilted, plum silk, and a coordinating wool skirt and silver blouse, like a
seamstresses mannequin, generously padded and smooth. Kate’e eye caught on a
large amethyst pin in the shape of a quail, with a coil of silver on its head,
pinned to her lapel.

Kate was only too glad to get going. “Please, after you,”
she gestured for Madame Duchamp to take a seat and waited for both she and
D'arcy before she took her own. She was determined not to be cowed by Madame
Duchamp’s dismissive manner and regal bearing and equally determined to take
the bull, so to speak, by the horns.

“I’m quite certain you’ve had a full report from Sharon
Beckett, D'arcy, and much as I’d like to launch right into our discussion about
the mediation, especially in light of recent… ” she dipped her chin “…
developments, I sense a certain reticence on your part and I’d like to address
your concerns around Sharon’s complaint before we continue.”

Madame Duchamp raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow and
inclined her head ever so slightly. “That suits me, Miss O’Day. I trust you
have your defense prepared.”

Kate’s breath caught, and she met D’arcy’s eye, which was
determinedly blank. Why did she put up with her mother’s controlling ways? She
continued to address D'arcy instead of letting the older woman take control.
“On the contrary. I’d like to know exactly what you’ve heard, and then I’d be
happy to clear things up for you.” She would not to be drawn into a mock trial,
as Madame Duchamp appeared to have her verdict prepared. She would take an
entirely different approach. Still uncertain what the dynamic was between
D'arcy and her mother, she kept one eye on D'arcy while waiting for her mother
to reply.

“Your name came highly recommended to me, Miss O’Day,
when D'arcy informed me of her desire to pursue mediation and it is with great
dismay that I have learned of your unprofessional conduct in allowing your
personal affairs to interfere with your representation of my daughter’s interests.”

So it’s to be like that, is it? Well, Kate knew how to
disarm such obtuse and pompous speech. She leaned forward on her elbows,
meeting Madame Duchamps eye directly. “Please. Remind me in precisely which way
I have behaved unprofessionally?”

Madame Duchamp’s eyes widened but Kate had no reason to
fear that she was too reserved to speak frankly when invited. “Why, you are
alleged to be having an affair with the legal representative for the opposing
side. You’re completely biased. Please don’t play games with me.”

While inwardly she bristled, Kate leaned back and smiled.
“On the contrary, I never play games. I’m so relieved to hear you use the word
‘alleged.’ It would have distressed me greatly to hear that Ms. Beckett claimed
to have evidence of such an indiscretion, for truly, how could she, or anyone,
know the nature and extent of my relationship with Mr. Sharpe?” Madame Duchamp
leaned forward incrementally, her pencil thin brows flattening, poised for her
next attack, but before she could leap at the deliberate lure Kate had dangled,
she continued. “I will confess to one thing, however.”