The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance (34 page)

Dan’s phone rang mid-afternoon. He answered it midway through the jaunty ringtone—it could be Meghan.

It was Chris. Dan flopped on his couch and said hello.

“Hey, Dan, how’s it going?”

“Uh, fine, I guess.” Dan tried to tamp down his annoyance with his genius brother. Not Chris’s fault that Dan was praying for a call from Meghan.

“It was so good to see you over Labor Day,” Chris began. Then he paused. “I was thinking about you, about your girlfriend. What was her name again?”

“Meghan.”

“Right. Meghan. Pretty.” Another pause. “Anyway, I just… I wanted to tell you…” Chris cleared his throat. “See, the thing is, I wanted to ask your advice.”

“Mine? My advice on what? D’you have a legal problem?”

“No. Dating.”

The first thing that went through Dan’s mind was “carbon dating,” which was ridiculous. Only, the idea his brother was calling for dating advice—as in, advice about dating women—seemed even less likely.

“Dating? You want to ask someone out on a date?”

There was a long pause, then Chris spoke in a mad rush. “Yeah, okay, so rub it in. I’m a complete dork around women, and I’m what? Forty-two? Jeez, you’ve been married already, and now you’re going to marry the love of your life—”

“Well, actually—”

“—And I’m still struggling to talk to women.”

This made no sense. Chris was a good-looking guy. Blond, tall, wire-rim glasses. The handsome nerd look. Tons of women went for that.

An image of his brother popped into his head. He was tall, but he tended to walk with his head down, as though he was studying the ground, or didn’t want to make eye contact, or—what was usually the truth—he wasn’t aware there were people in the vicinity. He might be handsome, but who was going to notice if he never looked up?

Dan sighed. “Tell me about her.”

“Oh, God, Dan, she’s so perfect. Her name is Brenna. She’s a postdoc here, in the Brain and Cognitive Sciences Department.”

“How did you meet her?”

Chris launched into a long, rambling story about bumping into her at a cafeteria on campus. Dan listened carefully even as he considered the surprising suggestion that his wildly gifted brother was bad at something. Bad at something Dan didn’t suck at.

“So?” Chris took a deep breath, like he needed to steel himself for his brother’s assessment. “Is there any hope?”

Dan assured him there was lots of opportunity for hope. They talked through some approaches Chris might take. At the end, after Chris had thanked him, Dan said, “So why did you call me about this?”

“Well, you’re so good at it. You’re like this complete package. Smart, funny, friendly. I feel unbalanced, as though all my gifts got bundled up into one tiny box.”

“But Dad is always singing your praises. I feel like such a loser compared to you.”

“Oh, God, that’s so wrong. He does that because he’s trying to protect me.”

Dan leaned his head on the sofa back. “Protect you from what?”

“I was sixteen when I left for college. You were still a kid, but already I could see that you were popular, clever, accomplished. You were normal, and I felt like such a freak. Dad took me out for lobster rolls, just the two of us. He explained that I’d be bored with your life, just as you’d be lost in mine. He told me how proud he was of me.”

“Does that mean I have to hear about every last prize you win?”

“Yeah, it does.” Chris laughed. “For what it’s worth, Dad tells me about every one of your wins in court. And how cool it is that you’re a partner at your firm.”

“He says that?”

“He told me once that Grandad never even spoke to him or our uncles. Always at the office, trying hard to get the next promotion. At least Dad talks to us.”

“Hunh.” Dan thought for a moment. “Well, I guess that’s fair—if he praises you to me and praises me to you.”

“You and I should talk more often,” Chris suggested. “Compare notes.”

“Definitely. I want to hear how things go with Brenna.”

Chris agreed.

After Dan hung up, he checked for voice mail—nothing—then sat in the quiet of his apartment. It had never occurred to him that Chris had trouble with anything. Literally, the golden boy. Maybe Dad saw that, saw that Chris struggled in his dealings with people, an area Dan found easy.

Easy…until this year, with Meghan.

Who still wasn’t home.

If Meghan came home on Sunday, she had to have snuck in. When Dan called Kassie late, she admitted she’d heard nothing.

“Her phone just rings, so I suspect she turned it off,” Dan said.

“She’s hurt. Give her time.”

Dan thought about that. He’d see her in the office. He had to be circumspect, but they did still have work to discuss…

“Okay, I’ll wait.”

“If I see her, I’ll talk with her,” Kassie said.

Dan went to bed more worried than he’d been the night before. He just couldn’t have said why.

The next morning he knew why. Meghan had come in, quit, cleaned out her office and was out of the building before the usual Complex Litigation Group meeting started.

Dan’s first clue was the empty chair near the door when he got to the conference room. Meghan was always the first there. Dan’s gut twisted to see the chair still neatly tucked in under the table. She wasn’t missing or sick. She’d left.

When he looked up, his attention locked onto Vicky Womack. Her mouth looked smug even as she tried to make her eyes huge and innocent.

“Vicky,” Dan said.

“Yes, Dan?” In a cartoon, her feline smile would have had bird feathers dripping from it.

“May I speak to you privately?” He stood and walked to the door.

She stepped out into the hallway. Now she looked nervous.

“It’s come to my attention that you’re the reason Georgia didn’t pursue the ProCell account in the cell phone litigation.”

“What?” Vicky’s eyes looked huge, like a terrified horse’s.

“Wally and I spoke Saturday night with Adrian Leveque, in IP. He handles ProCell’s patent work. He says Georgia asked you to prepare a pitch for the ProCell representation, but you never got around to doing it.”

“That’s not true. Georgia never assigned it to me.”

Dan cocked his head. “Really? So it’s going to be your word against Adrian’s? Who do you think the management will believe?”

Her face looked stunned, her mouth open and her eyes huge with panic. Then she got it. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips. “This is because of her, isn’t it? Well, it won’t work.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I’ll explain to Wally and Anne that you’re making it up.”

“Oh, so now it’s my word you dispute?”

“Yes, and I’ll tell them you’re retaliating against me because your girlfriend left.”

“Why would that make me retaliate? You had nothing to do with Meghan’s departure.”

Vicky’s head snapped back as though he’d physically punched her. She started to say something, then stopped.

Dan leaned in a little. “I’ll ask Anne van Oostrum to reassign you from Complex Litigation. What they do with you is up to them and to you—I hope I never have to see your face again, ever.” He pointed at the door to the conference room. “Go get your things, then leave.”

He waited until she came back out before he went in.

“I apologize for the delay, everyone. Let’s get caught up. What’s the latest with the pacemakers case?”

Dan took Anne van Oostrum out to lunch at the Four Seasons.

“This is lovely,” she said, indicating the elegance of the Swann Lounge. “What’s the occasion? Couldn’t we have talked in my office?”

“About one matter, yes. I need Vicky Womack off all Complex Litigation.”

Anne frowned delicately. “Why?”

“Do you want the real reason, or the official reason?”

She thought about that.

“Both.”

“The real reason is that Vicky somehow got access to my personnel file, photocopied the page that shows my emergency contact and showed that to Meghan at the Formal.” Dan held up his hand to forestall Anne’s questions. “My emergency contact is Susan Wolfson, at Bradford Wayne. She’s also my ex, but because of a snafu, we never got the divorce finalized. Don’t get me started on the Family Law attorneys in this town. Anyway, we fired both our lawyers, intending to do the paperwork ourselves. But you know how your own legal work is the last thing you get to?”

Anne nodded.

“So technically I’m still married to a woman I haven’t lived with—or slept with—for over six years.”

“But that’s absurd. It must create all sorts of financial difficulties.”

“Not really. For all financial purposes—yes, even taxes—we’re legally separated. There are some weird aspects, like Shana—that is, Susan—being entitled to a widow’s portion if I die. But until recently she was the principal legatee under my will anyway. Just because we aren’t a couple anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still care about her.”

“You can change your will more easily than you can get divorced?”

“We refiled the paperwork several weeks ago, before Meghan and I got involved. It still takes a long time in Pennsylvania.”

Anne put her hands on the table, took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. “I assume you’ve groveled to Meghan.”

Dan felt his mouth compress. “I tried. I doubt I succeeded. She quit this morning. I talked with Darlene, who seemed indecently thrilled to announce that Meghan came in early, cleared out her personal belongings, delivered a letter of resignation effective immediately and left.”

“Oh, I am sorry. You two looked so happy at the Formal. She’s lovely.”

“We were happy until Vicky ambushed Meghan in the ladies’ room, showed her the page from my file, and taunted her with the fact I was married.”

“How did Vicky get that copy?”

Dan arched his eyebrows. “Excellent question. But as Meghan pointed out, it hardly matters. If we went after Vicky for violating my privacy, she’d just say that Meghan did it.”

“Oh lord, she would, wouldn’t she?” Anne scowled. “She really is a gold-plated bitch.”

“Vicky? Yes. But I’ve gotten back at her already.”

“Oh, Dan, don’t tell me you broke into her personnel file?”

“No. Better. I said that Adrian Leveque identified
her
as the reason Georgia didn’t try for the ProCell business before leaving for Washington.” He explained about the memo Vicky never wrote.

“Is that true?”

“Actually, Adrian says it is, but who the hell knows? Vicky denies it vehemently, which could mean anything. I don’t care. I’ve used it to remove her from the Complex Litigation Group entirely. I did it this morning, which I know is very bad because I should have cleared it with you first. But there was no way in hell I was sitting at a conference table with Meghan’s seat empty and Vicky looking like a well-fed cat at the opposite end. And she understands that she can’t accuse me of retaliation without revealing what she did to Meghan. Stalemate.”

“No, I can see that.” Anne ate some food while she considered this. Finally, she placed her knife and fork on her plate, twitching the handles until they were parallel. “Of course I’ll support you. I’ll accept the stated reason, namely that she nearly cost the firm a valuable client, one we did eventually land and made very happy. I really hope ProCell sends us a lot of litigation going forward,” she added as an aside.

“Amen.”

Anne took a sip of her drink. “Okay, you said there were two things you needed to talk to me about. What’s the other one?”

“There’s more to Meghan’s legal situation, isn’t there? All she’s told me is that she got the charges dropped, but for legal reasons she’s had to take a leave from law school. But she never talked about when she’s going back. I need to know the full story.”

Anne played with the stem of her glass. “Why? What do you need to know?”

Dan leaned back and looked out the huge windows overlooking Logan Circle. It was raining but the fountain was on, its sprays a bluish-white against the gray stone of the Free Library on the far side of the circle.

“Meghan’s a fighter. Not combative—she’s analytical. She sees a problem and she solves it. So why hasn’t she plotted a path back to law school? I thought it might be legal fees, that some lawyer was demanding payment for his or her work on Meghan’s case, and she can’t afford to pay the legal fees and for school. Surely, though, she could have worked that off while still in school.”

Anne sat, looking at her plate. She dipped her head, once. Agreement? Or just “Go on…”?

Dan went on, “And why did she have to quit as a summer associate? If she was going back to school a year from now, the firm would have figured out a way to keep her working, and at a higher salary. She’s a star and you all had to know that. So why grudgingly give her a job as a paralegal?”

Anne sighed. “I’ll tell you, but I’m not happy about doing so. Does it reflect badly on us? Probably. Does it reflect badly on Meghan? You’re going to have to make that determination.”

“Okay.”

“She started in late May. Everyone wanted to work with her. Her reputation definitely preceded her. A few weeks later, she came in to resign her summer associateship. She looked calm, resolved, even a bit distant.”