Izzie had followed in her father’s footsteps. She had gone to NYU on a full scholarship and lived at home then, because they couldn’t afford the dorms, followed by Columbia Law School, and now, at thirty-two, she worked at a prestigious Wall Street law firm.
Justin had gone to Brown, on a scholarship as well, and was a freelance writer, doing magazine pieces and writing a novel. He was thirty and living in Vermont. Both he and Izzie had held jobs all through school. Julie, Justin’s twin, had had a harder time in school than her siblings. She had moderate dyslexia, and her grandmother had tutored her for her entire school career, and helped her keep up her grades. Julie had a remarkable artistic talent and her mother’s love for fashion, and had gone to Parsons School of Design. She was working for an up-and-coming young designer now who paid her well. She got none of the glory for the clothes she designed, but she earned a decent salary she could live on. In her early years after Parsons, she had had four roommates, but at thirty she could finally afford a loft she loved on her own.
And at twenty-four, Kate’s youngest, Willie, was the family techie they all teased and called a geek. He’d gone to UCLA but came back to New York when he graduated. He had a great job with an online start-up that they hoped would become a big success.
None of Kate’s children were married. Izzie had suffered a broken engagement two years before. Her fiancé had dumped her for a debutante from a fancy New York family, and they had recently gotten married. Izzie hadn’t gotten over it yet, and had an edge to her now that she’d never had before, which Kate hoped would dispel in time. She hadn’t dated anyone seriously since, and worked hard at the law firm. She was hoping to become a junior partner soon.
Justin was gay and lived with his partner, who taught history and Latin at a local high school in the town where they lived in Vermont. Richard was thirty-six, and they had met at a writing workshop four years before. Kate had realized that Justin was probably gay when he was eleven, and was supportive when he came out at sixteen. Richard’s family was still in denial. They were a conservative family in the South, and disapproved of everything about his life, in contrast to Kate’s loving acceptance of both of them.
Julie had had a series of relationships, though none serious. She said most of the men she met in the fashion world were gay, and she worked too hard to date much. She had always been shy, and didn’t mind spending time alone. She was a gentle soul, with a huge talent. She put all her time into designing four collections a year, not romance. And at thirty, she wasn’t worried about getting married.
Willie, the “baby,” was unofficially the family “slut,” according to his sisters. He went out with one girl after another, and as many as he could at the same time. At twenty-four, he just wanted to have fun, and didn’t want a serious relationship, and was honest about it with the girls he dated.
Justin and Willie had both suffered growing up without a father, despite Kate’s efforts to be both parents to all of them. But it was harder with the boys. Once in a while she heard from teachers that the boys lied about their father being dead, and pretended to their friends that he was working in another city or on a trip. Justin suffered from it less than Willie, and always had Kate take him to the father-son dinners at school. He still remembered his father, though the memories were dim now. Willie didn’t, since he’d been only three months old when Tom died, but they had photographs of him in their rooms when they were growing up, and Kate talked about him frequently to keep his memory alive.
Kate had made her peace with being a widow, the children had kept her busy for many years until they grew up and left for college. She’d had some romances but was too frantic trying to keep their collective heads above water and provide for them to get seriously involved with anyone for a long time. Most of the men she met didn’t want the burden of four children not their own. And the few who seemed to like the idea were never the ones Kate was drawn to. She always said that she and the children were doing fine, and for the most part she was right. But it was lonely for her at times now, not having a husband or partner, with her kids on their own, with busy lives. She made the best of it, and in recent years there were only casual dates from time to time. She often thought it was ironic that now that the children were grown up and doing well, she would have had time for a man but never met anyone who appealed to her. The men she met now were either married or commitment phobic. And she was busy with her store, and loved what she did.
Days like the one she had spent going through the estate in Connecticut were still fun for her. It was exciting to find beautiful clothes, often knowing their provenance and who had worn them. Clothes like the ones she had seen and sold in the course of her business were pieces of fashion history, and it still thrilled her to make special discoveries.
Her family mattered more than anything to her and her children were the joy of her life. And Still Fabulous gave her tremendous satisfaction, was something to be proud of, and had fed them well.
She could hardly wait to get back to the store now and figure out what she was going to agree to sell for the estate, and which pieces she wanted to buy outright and keep to offer special clients.
—
Isabelle Madison was in a hurry as she left her office. She’d had to reorganize all her appointments for the afternoon in order to accommodate the pro bono assignment she’d been given. She always thought that it was inconvenient that attorneys in her firm had to accept pro bono work as part of their giving back to the community. She had done an internship in the district attorney’s office years before, when she was in law school, and had discovered how much she hated criminal work. She was a business attorney who specialized in mergers and acquisitions, but she was conscientious, and would do the best she could with the case. She knew only the bare bones of the charges. The defendant, Zach Holbrook, was accused of possession of a large amount of marijuana and cocaine with intent to sell. He had no previous arrest record, and his last name was that of an illustrious family in New York, but she had no idea if he was related or if it was just a coincidence. And whatever his name, the defendant sounded badly behaved to her. He had been drunk and disorderly and had resisted arrest. She had to remind herself to keep an open mind as she got out of the cab in front of a seedy bar where he had offered to meet her. She didn’t want to have him come to her office, so had agreed to meet him at the bar. She’d had no idea how bad he’d look.
Holbrook had already been arraigned, and was out on his own recognizance because he wasn’t considered a flight risk, and Izzie met him at the bar he had suggested. A public defender had attended the arraignment before she was assigned to the case. She was already planning to ask for a continuance of the proceedings, so she could do some research into the case. But according to the police report, he had been caught red-handed with a fairly large amount of cocaine, and he was clearly guilty. It was going to be difficult to come up with a credible defense.
She arrived five minutes early for the appointment, and her client showed up half an hour late, and was not what she had expected. She’d expected him to look slightly derelict, and maybe like a drug addict, despite the fancy family name. He was thirty-five years old, strikingly handsome, and was wearing a clean white tee shirt, black jeans, a black leather biker jacket, and motorcycle boots. The jacket had obviously been expensive, and he was covered with tattoos, including on the backs of his hands and crawling up his neck. His hair was shoulder length but clean, and he had several days of beard stubble. He looked sexy and stylish and was friendly and relaxed when he sat down at her table. He could guess immediately that she was his attorney. She looked the part. She was relieved to see that there was nothing ominous about him. If anything, he was charming, which annoyed her as he explained that he was sorry he was late, he had just flown in from Miami, where he’d spent the weekend, which concerned her, since she wasn’t sure he was allowed to leave the state. What if the flight had been late or canceled? He seemed very casual about the charges he was facing. She didn�
�t think the marijuana charges would be hard to beat, but the large quantity of cocaine in his possession would be. She told him that he could go to prison, and he insisted that was unlikely since he’d never been arrested before. He didn’t seem worried at all as he sprawled in the chair across from her, and drank a beer, while Izzie drank water.
She wondered if she could get him to show up in court in a suit for future appearances, even a sport coat, instead of like a rich boy’s version of a Hells Angel in a movie. He had a very studied “bad-boy” look. There was something theatrical about him, and much too smooth. He joked through the meeting, which Izzie didn’t find amusing. He admitted to her within the client-attorney privilege that he had, in fact, sold cocaine and marijuana. It wasn’t the first time but he’d never been caught before. She was not pleased to be representing him. It seemed like a waste of her time. She had better things to do than defend the black sheep from a wealthy family. He had told her immediately that he was part of the family whose name she had recognized, not that it mattered.
“Why did you ask for a pro bono attorney?” she asked him bluntly, “instead of just paying for one?” She was surprised he qualified as indigent. He seemed like he could pay for his own, and his family surely could have. The district attorney’s office had exercised their right to ask the judge for a pro bono attorney in order to move the case along, since all the public defenders were currently overworked, and the judge had agreed.
“I’m dead broke. I have no money,” he said easily. “My family cut me off when I turned thirty. They don’t approve of my lifestyle.” He smiled broadly, seemingly undisturbed by it. Further conversation with him told her that he had never had a job and didn’t want one. He didn’t see why he should work, since no one else in his family did. He had dropped out of high school after being kicked out of all the best boarding schools in the East. “I deal coke sometimes when I’m broke,” he said with an ingenuous look, as though that were an acceptable form of part-time employment. And he said he thought it served his family right for not supporting him. He explained that all of his relatives lived off a family trust, but the trustees would no longer disburse funds to him, at his father’s request, since he had dabbled in drugs when he was younger. So he had no money, but didn’t work. Isabelle wondered how he lived, other than occasional coke deals. From what he said, he was living hand to mouth but had just gone to Miami. She wondered how he had paid for that. He was obviously resourceful.
Holbrook volunteered that his father was married to his fifth wife, who was twenty-two years old, and his mother to her fourth husband, and lived in Europe. He said his parents had divorced when he was five, and had been marrying other people ever since. His mother lived in Monte Carlo and he never saw her, and his father alternated between various homes in Aspen, L.A., and Palm Beach, and he ran the family investments from wherever he was.
“I’m the black sheep,” Izzie’s client said proudly. He had a sister who had been in and out of rehab and was living in Mexico, and a flock of step- and half siblings Izzie couldn’t keep track of and he wasn’t close to. He was the proverbial rolling stone from a dysfunctional family with money but no stability. He seemed to be without anchor or foundations, acted more like a kid than an adult, and had clearly never grown up. And what bothered Izzie most about him, other than his obvious irresponsibility, was that he was so appealing and occasionally funny that even she smiled several times at what he said. He was totally without remorse but not without charm, by any means. And he was obviously intelligent. It was hard not to be somewhat seduced by him, and despite her best efforts not to be, she was, but gave no sign of it to him.
She was trying to think what defense she could use for him, and was hoping there was some improper technicality about the arrest or the charges that she could use to have the case against him thrown out. Otherwise he was screwed and would go to prison. She told him not to ever wear the leather biker jacket for court appearances, to put on a proper shirt, and get a haircut and shave before they went to court. He laughed at what she said, and obviously didn’t take it seriously, while she tried not to notice his broad shoulders, and how toned his body was in the tee shirt under the leather jacket. He was visibly amused by her instructions and intense look.
“You’re cleaning me up?” he asked her.
“Trying to,” she said tersely. “Judges don’t like that look.”
She didn’t want him appearing and acting like a juvenile delinquent, or wasting her time, if he expected her to win his case. He had pleaded not guilty at the arraignment and got a three-month continuance while he waited to be assigned a pro bono attorney, and she intended to extend it so she could research the case. She had made all the notes she needed to at the bar, and he smiled at her as they stood on the street for a minute. She found his cocky attitude irritating. He was arrogant, although the family history he had given her sounded pathetic. She almost felt sorry for him, in spite of herself, and he clearly wasn’t doing anything with his life and never had. He was one of those people where everything had gone wrong right from the beginning, and still was. He seemed foolish and immature, not evil.
“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asked her with a mischievous look, and Izzie frowned. She was his attorney of record, not a date.
“No, you cannot. You’re facing very serious charges here, Mr. Holbrook, and I strongly advise you not to do anything foolish before we get this resolved. Where are you staying, by the way? Do you have an apartment?”
“I was staying with friends, but I got kicked out,” he said, grinning sheepishly, which made him look younger than he was. “My grandmother lets me stay at her summer house in the Hamptons when I’m in New York. But I’m going back to Miami tonight.”
“I am fairly certain you are not allowed to leave the state with this case pending.” She was also wondering how he was going to pay for the plane fare if he had no money, but she didn’t ask.
“Probably not, but my grandmother has a house in Palm Beach too, so I can stay there if I need to.” He didn’t seem to be without comfortable lodgings in posh places, only without a work ethic and a conscience about what he’d done to get arrested. It was trivial to him. And justified by lack of family financial support, which he felt was his due.
“I’ll be in touch,” Izzie said soberly. He had given her his cellphone number and email address to contact him. “I want to review some of the details of the arrest and see if we can make a deal, or even get you off on a technicality.” She thought it was her only hope of keeping him out of prison.
“I’m sure you’ll find something,” he said, seeming relaxed and confident. “I’ll call you when I’m back in New York.” She had given him her business card and planned to see him at her office next time. She hadn’t wanted to bring a criminal to her office, but he looked respectable enough despite the biker jacket and tattoos. They would have three months before the next court appearance. And she hoped to get another continuance then too, to drag it out and give her time to prepare their case. “We’ll do lunch,” he said, and hailed a cab.
She stood staring after him as he rode away, still stunned by how nonchalant he was. She had never seen anyone as cavalier, but the details he had told her about his early life, divorced parents, many remarriages, no stable family, growing up in a series of boarding schools, with no parental involvement in his youth, and no work ethic as an adult, probably explained his attitude. It was a recipe for disaster, which he was heading for now and didn’t seem to know or care. She couldn’t imagine him surviving in prison. He was much too spoiled. And he was obviously used to getting whatever he wanted, or somehow making his life work. It didn’t bother him how haphazard it was. He had practically undressed her with his eyes, and yet there was an innocence to him too. But she had no intention of having lunch with him or falling prey to his charm. She was much smarter than that, she thought, as she took a cab back to her office, relieved to be returning to the real world. The world of Zach Holbrook disgusted her.
Wasted lives.
Two hours later, her paralegal staggered into Izzie’s office with an enormous vase with three dozen long-stem bright pink roses and a card that said “Thanks for everything. See you soon. Love, Zach.” Izzie almost groaned when she read the card. This was not the relationship she wanted with him. She was angry instead of pleased.
“New admirer?” her paralegal asked her with a smile, as Izzie frowned and shook her head.
“No. New client.” She offered no further explanation, but she wasn’t happy about it, and her paralegal left the room with no comment after depositing the roses on a table behind Izzie’s desk. Izzie went back to work without glancing at them, annoyed at Zach Holbrook all over again. He was completely inappropriate in every way, no matter how beautiful the flowers were, or how attractive he was. All she wanted was to get rid of the case. And she hoped she’d be lucky enough to get him off or make a deal so she didn’t have to keep seeing him over the next few months. He was a headache she didn’t need. There was no room for a charming, unruly black sheep in her life.
Chapter 2
The two nieces of the deceased dowager in Connecticut were delighted with the prices Kate suggested for the items she wanted, and the clothes were delivered to Still Fabulous the following week. Kate was there when they came in, dropped off by a chauffeur with a van. She and Jessica, her assistant, checked them again, entered them in their inventory, and put them upstairs to show their most favored clients. Kate had already contacted several of them, and the editor from Harper’s Bazaar had said she wanted two of the fur coats. They were Revillon and in perfect condition. One was a shaved dark blue mink that had been worn only a few times, and the other was an incredibly chic skunk. She was picking them up in a few days. Kate had chosen a whole rack of Chanel suits, several items of haute couture, some Oscar de la Renta cocktail dresses, and a dozen alligator bags in different colors that looked brand-new. The dowager had kept her clothes impeccably, and it always excited Kate to bring in items of such high quality. She was sure it would all sell very fast. It was one of the best estates she had seen in years.
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