“See? I knew you’d understand.” He felt like he could breathe again.
“Okay. If you really want me working on this case, here’s who you have to talk to. Anne van Oostrum,” Meghan said. “She’s the litigation administrator. She knows all the players, and all the politics. If there’s a problem with an associate, a partner, even a case aide—she’s the one to go to.”
“She’s out today. Wally mentioned that.”
“Right. Because there’s no way Darlene gets onto the forty-fifth floor if Anne’s around.” Meghan’s tone was jaunty but her frown hadn’t gone away.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Better?”
She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll feel less like an outlaw if Anne says it’s okay.” She stood up.
He walked her to the door. He knew this was his cue to wish her a good night and let her leave. Then, just as it had on Monday, Dan’s flip book of possibilities—ask her out to dinner, suggest they have lunch tomorrow, kiss her… Wait a minute—kiss her? Where did that come from?—riffled through his mind. The vivid image of kissing her delicate lips startled him so much he backed away slightly.
“Uh, okay. Well, I’ll get going then. See you tomorrow,” he blurted out. He watched her walk away, the image of the two of them kissing on a Jumbotron haunting him.
The next day, Dan called Anne van Oostrum and asked if he could stop by her office. Either she made time for partners or didn’t have too much else on her mind because she told him to come see her right away. Or—more likely still—she’d heard about Darlene and Wally and Dan and Meghan.
He sighed. He needed a guide book to the law firm, like it was a foreign country and he didn’t speak the language.
Anne’s office was along the north wall on Forty, just off the secretarial space near the elevators. She stood as he paused in the doorway. She was a tall, striking woman with dark hair streaked with gray in a surprisingly chic manner. He’d remembered her name almost immediately because she reminded him of Anne Bancroft, albeit from a role a good bit later than The Graduate.
“Dan,” she said. She seemed happy to see him. “Close the door and have a seat. How are you settling in?”
“Great. Apart from not understanding why I need to have my office redecorated, it’s all good.”
She looked at him shrewdly. “Well, it can’t be all perfect or you’d never have come to see me.”
He laughed. “Surely partners stop by all the time to tell you what a great job you’re doing.”
“Never.” Her expression was so solemn, he couldn’t tell if she was kidding. “So tell me what your problem is.”
Could he trust her with the truth, or did he need to fashion some story that was a close enough approximation of the truth for his purposes? Before he could decide, Anne broke in.
“Let me guess. It’s Vicky, isn’t it?”
He managed to keep from looking startled, but it was a close thing. “Why do you think that?” he stalled.
“C’mon, Dan, she’s not your type. She’s very popular with certain partners, which is why she’s doing well enough here, but I have learned which partners she should be assigned to, and which she shouldn’t work with. Georgia Moran was in the former category—you’re in the latter group.”
Dan was intrigued. He’d forgotten that Anne was the one who assigned the litigation associates to various cases and partners. This could be useful when he did get around to his actual question. He relaxed and crossed his legs. “So what do you suggest?”
Anne leaned forward a bit. “I gather she’s not exactly impressed you on the ProCell matter,” she began.
Dan wondered how Anne had gotten that idea. He didn’t think Vicky was the sort to complain about him, which left only three sources: the two junior associates, the client, or the senior patent partner whose client ProCell was. He couldn’t imagine the two junior associates saying anything, and he’d barely met Adrian, so that left Lou Trioli.
“Lou?” he ventured.
“An old friend.” She nodded calmly. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t too impressed with Vicky either.” Dan began to wonder if Anne wasn’t a bit disenchanted with Ms. Womack herself. Then her face lit up slyly. “He likes you, though. He’s convinced you’re going to save them a lot of money.”
“I just want him to give us the work. It sounds like ProCell brings their IP work here and not a lot else.”
“Which is one of the reasons Georgia and Vicky’s approach didn’t, uh, resonate with Lou. You, on the other hand, had him eating out of your hand.”
“But if we’re successful in getting ProCell out on the cheap, doesn’t that violate some principle of law firm economics—never let the cash cow get away?”
“Dan, you’ve come from the US Attorney’s office, so the size of the cash cows around here may surprise you. You also got the Bayliss Labs case from Georgia, right?”
He nodded.
“We handled their last medical products liability case, where the plaintiffs numbered in the thousands. At its zenith, we were billing Bayliss almost a million dollars a month.”
“Oh-kay,” he drawled. “That would explain the rising cost of health care.”
“Don’t be an ass.” Anne grinned. “So what do you want me to do about Vicky?”
“Well, I don’t want her working on the ProCell case, that’s for sure. As for the rest of the Complex Lit cases, if you tell me that I need to leave her in place and just work around her, I can do that.”
Anne shrugged. “No, I’ll take care of it. So, problem solved?”
“Not the one I came in with, no.” At her expression, Dan held up his hands. “You couldn’t have solved my original problem because I didn’t think to bring it to you sooner.”
“Oh, no. If Vicky wasn’t the reason you’re here, what is?”
“It’s Meghan Mattson.”
As he’d expected, she looked surprised. “You want me to reassign Meghan?”
“Lord, no. She’s the best thing about my job so far. Well, that and the snazzy green leather handbook all new partners get,” Dan teased. “No, if anything, my problem is going in the other direction.”
“All right, I’m confused. I’ll stop trying to guess. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, Meghan tipped me off about her situation—law school on hold because of legal problems. Just as well because I’d already met her.”
“You had?”
He explained about his stint as a moot court judge that spring. “Meghan and Libby Pembroke—Blackjack’s niece?—were up against each other. I’ve known Libby for years. Her brief was excellent—Meghan’s was that much better. And her oral argument—well, let’s just say I’ve heard actual oral arguments before the Third Circuit that were a lot worse.”
Anne was scribbling something on a pad. “Just want to make sure our hiring committee knows about Libby,” she explained when she looked up. “Anyway, back to Meghan.”
“If I hadn’t had that prior experience with how smart she is, I’d have been a bit surprised that my team’s paralegal is thinking rings around all the lawyers on a case.” He watched Anne, who nodded.
He went on. “She’s the one who spotted the possibility of getting ProCell out of the case on the cheap. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have caught it, but clearly she’s studied civil procedure more recently than I have. I think we both know why Georgia didn’t get more aggressive with a case that landed on her desk days before she left for D.C. We’ve already dealt with Vicky, so I won’t comment further. And while the junior associates might well have approached the case creatively, they probably weren’t asked to.”
“Definitely not their job to volunteer, either.”
“Which is why Meghan really impressed me. It’s clearly not her job to think like a lawyer, she just does. Mind you, she didn’t push her ideas on me. I asked. Still, I wasn’t expecting her to be quite that smart.”
Anne looked over at the door for a moment. Checking that it was still closed? “Dan, there�
�s something you may not have been told. Meghan got straight A’s at Franklin Law. The dean is—” she paused delicately.
“A close friend?” Dan suggested.
“Of the firm, yes. She told us that having Meghan drop out was a huge blow for them. They’d actually thought she might have been their best chance in years to have a Franklin grad clerking on the Supreme Court.”
“I’d heard that. Then why the hell isn’t she working as something other than a paralegal?” And paid more, he wanted to add, so she could get back to law school.
“We can’t,” she said. “We could say she was something amorphous like a consultant, but the reality is that the Disciplinary Board in Harrisburg would be on us like white on rice. Any sign that she was practicing law, and we’d have more trouble than it was worth.”
“As long as she’s strictly supervised—?” he began.
“At the time, we didn’t really have anyone who wanted to do that. She was coming in with some baggage. Dean Morrissey put some real pressure on…well, on someone here to get Meghan a job. Oh, and Dan? Meghan doesn’t know this, so please be discreet.”
“She’s convinced she’s here as a favor to someone.”
“I know. She really doesn’t know how highly the law school thinks of her.” Anne caught his gaze. “We were thrilled when she accepted our offer of a summer associateship. Her, uh, problems have been a wrinkle no one foresaw and no one much knows how to deal with. I think most people would prefer to let her go, as much to avoid the hassle as for any possibility that she’s damaged goods.”
Dan frowned over that, but didn’t respond. He’d told Meghan he wouldn’t gossip. “I want Meghan working on the ProCell case. I understand she can’t prepare any legal documents or advise the client without my supervision, but it’s not like I’m overloaded with work after a week here. I have the time to keep tabs on her. Meghan, as you may have noticed, is scrupulous about the law firm hierarchy and caste system. I’d say she knows her place all too well. So I promised her I’d ask you,” he trailed off, still distracted by everything Anne had told him.
“Ask me what?” Anne asked, confused.
“Um, would it be okay if she took over the work Vicky was supposed to have done on ProCell?” Dan stopped, aware that he sounded more like a teenager asking to borrow the car than a partner with a problem to be solved.
Anne burst out laughing. “That’s it? That’s your big problem? Of course you can. You know the limits: she can’t practice law, and she can’t give anyone the impression that she’s a lawyer. If you want her doing all the research, writing all the briefs, prepping all the witnesses, knock yourself out.”
Dan felt the relief flow over him like warm air. “Thanks.” He stood up to go.
“Be careful,” Anne warned. “She’s bright enough and she’s tough. She’s also young. Life has been hard for her for a long time, it’s true. But that’s no substitute for another decade of age. And you risk looking like you’ve got a pet, which isn’t a good look for a new partner.”
Dan barely heard her—he was already mentally on his way to tell Meghan they’d gotten the go-ahead. He beamed at Anne as he left with a little wave.
Meghan had just gotten on the elevator when Dan ran up to her. She couldn’t decipher his expression as he put his hand on the door to keep it from closing. He looked excited.
“You leaving?” he asked.
She hoisted her backpack and handbag like they were weights. “Yup.”
He got on the elevator and stood next to her. The car started to descend.
“Why?” she asked. “Did you need something before I leave? I can go back up.”
He shook his head, possibly conscious of the people behind them. He was grinning like a kid with a brand-new bike. Her lips curved instinctively even while his charm and palpable joy made her feel old. Probably the worst calamity he’d faced was the loss of a bicycle to some random thief, after which Mom and Dad just got him another one. It would explain his passionate sense of justice. Still, Meghan doubted Dan had any sense of what it was like to lose something permanently.
In the lobby, he didn’t say anything—just walked with her out into the Philadelphia summer heat. It wouldn’t cool off until midnight, if even then. Meghan started heading west, then stopped. “What? Are you going to walk home with me?”
He pulled her over to the warm stone of the building, then glanced to either side. When he looked back at her, he was grinning again. “We’re cleared for takeoff. I talked with Anne, and she says of course it’s okay if you do Vicky’s job on the ProCell case. I have to supervise all your work, of course. That’ll be easy. As I pointed out to her, it’s not like I’ve had a chance to get overwhelmed with work in just one week.”
“That’s great,” she said carefully. She didn’t want to get too excited. “So what’s the next step?”
“We go to Boston. As soon as possible. Anything on your calendar?”
“You’re kidding, right?” She tilted her head, looking at him like he was missing a few screws.
“No—oh, I see. Yes, okay, all your cases are with me, and if I want you in Boston, then I get you in Boston.” He stopped, frowned for a moment, then added hurriedly, “I’ll get Tessa on this, okay?” He gestured vaguely toward the entrance.
“Sure, whatever.”
Meghan waited until he’d rounded the corner back into the lobby, then started to walk home. Her tension melted in the late afternoon mugginess. A client visit, a chance to work on something other than data entry, the opportunity to use her legal education.
Time spent alone with Dan.
Her body tensed again, but it felt different. It felt…like desire. A very inconvenient desire. She could want the work, she mustn’t want her boss.
Chapter Eight
Meghan refused to tell Dan she’d never been to Boston. As they never left the highway, it hardly mattered. They were out in the western suburbs within an hour of landing, and from there it wasn’t much different from Philly’s suburbs. So much for travel broadening one’s mind.
ProCell occupied a sprawling single-story building that looked a bit like Meghan’s high school. They parked the SUV that Tessa had rented for them and headed for the door. Just before they entered, Meghan gave her suit—the same one she’d worn for the moot court competition—a final check to make sure she hadn’t spilled anything on it.
Lou Trioli, a tall, untidy fellow with a great smile and knowing eyes, met them in the reception area and led them back to his large corner office. His kids’ artwork adorned the walls, and Meghan suspected there were some nice photos of his family, turned to face Lou’s side of the desk. He told them to make themselves comfortable, got his assistant to get them coffee, and then went through the schedule he’d arranged.
Dan nodded. “We’re going to do the best we can to get everything in one trip. Of course, there’s always a chance that we’ll have more questions. Nothing a conference call couldn’t cover, I suspect. We’ll also need to meet with our intellectual property partner back in Philly. I have some real questions about why there haven’t been allegations of infringement. Who did your patent work back then?”
Lou explained that most of the work had been done by a D.C. firm. “We use them less and less. Fergusson has most of ProCell’s IP work now.”
“There’s another reason to hire Fergusson for this case. After all,” Dan remarked, “that way we have a lot of the information already in our office.”
Lou laughed.
When they’d finished their coffee, Lou had his assistant walk them to a conference room where they were going to do their interviews. In fact, someone was already waiting for them.
Harvey Keane looked young to be retired. His round, happy face lit up as he told Dan and Meghan how he’d done pretty well investing in the company’s stock, and when he’d had enough to retire, he did. “It’s a young guy’s game, these days. Besides, I wanted to play with my steam trains.”
Harvey walked them thr
ough ProCell’s use of the specific technology that had upset the FCC. He didn’t know anything about any overbilling problems, but then ProCell might never have known about that because it sounded like an intermittent issue, and anyway, the telecoms company generated the bills.
“But I’ll tell you this—our phones were subjected to a lot of testing on billing issues. I can’t say for sure that we’d have caught this issue with text message rates, although I’d be really surprised if our phones had that error and we didn’t catch it.”
Meghan, still bent over her pad, spoke before she could stop herself. “Could we see that research you did?”
When there was no response, she looked at Dan. “What? You were about to ask for that yourself.”
He grinned at her, that sly but sunny look that made her glow. “What I’d been thinking was how confident Harvey sounds. He’ll make a good witness. You’re right, too.” Dan turned to Harvey. “How about it? Can you get us more details on testing protocols?”
Harvey said sure, made a couple of notes, then went back to his time line.
When he’d finished, Dan said, “Okay, what did you know about your competitors’ technology?”
Harvey didn’t speak at first. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I even thought about them.”
“Why’s that?” Meghan asked. “Surely you were as concerned with their products as you were with your own?”
“Not really. We kept track of what the other companies were doing, sure. I remember that. We’d buy their phones, and I dare say they bought ours. As I recall, we looked at their phones and decided we were already on a better track.” Harvey shrugged. “I’ll have to go back over my files for more details.”
Meghan pulled out the file containing her research from the Internet. “Didn’t Argus announce that they had made significant technological advances in SMS back in 1998? Were you tracking the progress other manufacturers were making?” She caught Dan’s look. “Short message service,” she reminded him.
Harvey stared at a corner of the room, as though he was fast-forwarding through his memories of the industry on an invisible screen. Finally he said, “Yeah, okay. That sounds about right. Argus was the big name back then—well, still is, I guess.”
The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance Page 8