The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  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.”

  Dan knew that look. And now he knew that it could be the tip of the iceberg—the outward appearance when inside Meghan was being ripped apart by razor blades.

  “She told the partner running the summer associate program that she’d been named by the US Attorney’s office in Chicago in a case for identity theft and mail fraud.”

  “What?” Dan grabbed the edge of the table, stunned at what he was hearing. “Federal charges? What the hell?” He raked a hand through his hair. He needed to get to his old office and check this out. He’d half-pushed himself away from the table when Anne spoke.

  “We looked into it. She and some other woman were alleged to have used Meghan’s name in a complicated fraud involving bankruptcy court and housing foreclosures.”

  “You can’t have thought she did it?”

  “Well, by the time she told us about it, she’d already gotten the Feds to drop her from the case. By that point, we’d seen the indictment—her name’s all over it. It certainly reads like the two women were in collusion. Our Chicago office looked into it and it did not look good. Plus, she agreed to pay the restitution.”

  “But not the fine?”

  “How did you know there was a fine?”

  “I used to be an AUSA. There’s always a fine with a white-collar crime.”

  Anne tilted her head. “That’s right. You worked with Blackjack McIntyre. Well, then you must know more than I do. All I know is that the firm couldn’t have an alleged criminal—”

  “Against whom all the charges have been dropped.”

  “Yes, but who knew why that happened? Meghan didn’t tell us. And she came in to resign, which didn’t exactly look like she was innocent. So we let her quit, then the dean intervened and we rehired her as a paralegal.”

  Dan tried to relax his shoulder muscles but it wasn’t easy. He wanted to strangle—someone. Not Anne. She was trying to help. Meghan? For not fighting for her job? The idiots in Fergusson’s Chicago office who read an indictment and took it as gospel? Or—hey, there was an idea. Why didn’t Dan throttle the asshole who filed the indictment in the first place?

  Finally, Dan said, “Thank you. That’s obviously more information than I ever had from Meghan.”

  Anne reached over to take his hand. To the other diners, it probably looked like some weird Mrs. Robinson-and-Benjamin scene. They even looked the part. Anne was so elegant and chic, while Dan felt confused and rumpled, twisted by his love for the unattainable girl.

  “It’s going to be okay. Meghan’s got a lot of sadness in her, but when I saw her at the Formal, it had lightened. You’ll have to meet her more than halfway, Dan, but you can do it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Anne’s smile reminded Dan of his sixth grade teacher. Like Anne, she’d had a lovely way of getting him to do the right thing.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Jack,” Dan said as he took a seat across the table from his former boss. The public knew him as Blackjack McIntyre, the superhero who’d convicted Dino “T-Rex” Reggiano in a media-circus-cum-judicial-proceeding that had dominated the news for several weeks last autumn. Dan knew a different man entirely. Jack had been Dan’s mentor, boss, and competition.

  “You intrigued me. I’ve printed out the public documents on your friend’s case.” Jack hoisted a slim sheaf of papers. “I want to hear more about your connection to these women.”

  The bar’s owner, a fellow named Barney, came over to shake Dan’s hand. Dan had been here once before, for a birthday party for Jack his secretary had organized. The County Cork was a small Irish bar in South Philly. No food, but the beers were pretty good.

  “Jacko’s having a Jameson. How about you, Dan?” Barney asked.

  “Guinness, please.”

  “Ah, good man,” Barney said as he went off to get Dan’s beer.

  Dan turned back to Jack, whose penetrating gaze already seemed to have gleaned all the answers he could possibly need. Of course, that was all part of the Blackjack mystique. He looked like Superman in a well-tailored suit. He saw everything, missed nothing, and his charmed life didn’t keep him from working harder than anyone Dan had ever known.

  After Dan won a case, he’d end up in Jack’s office for a combination post-game rehash and celebration. Celebrating with Blackjack had been a heady experience. When Jack approved, it felt like making a three-pointer against the Lakers. But a loss? Or worse, a screw up? No one at Fergusson—not even Wallace Leith—had the power to make Dan feel quite as low as a Blackjack post mortem used to.

  Dan took a sip of his Guinness. “I know Meghan Mattson in three ways. First, she’s a classmate of Libby’s.”

  Jack’s eyebrows went up, but Dan ignored the implied question.

  “In fact, I was a judge at their moot court competition last spring. Meghan beat Libby.”

  “I remember.” Jack’s voice remained soft, but after six years, Dan had gotten pretty good at reading the nuances of what Jack said and didn’t say.

  “Trust me, I assumed Libby would cream the competition. Her brief was solid and she’s very smart on her feet. But Meghan wrote a brief you’d have approved of, and her oral argument was even better than Libby’s. We had to give it to Meghan.”

  “Interesting. Okay, that was your first contact with Ms. Mattson. Second?”

  “She was the Complex Litigation Group’s paralegal when I started at Fergusson in July.”

  Jack had his glass halfway to his mouth when he heard this. His hand stalled. “Did you say paralegal?”

  Dan knew a rhetorical question when he heard it. “She’d been a summer associate when the indictment was handed down. First Fergusson knew about it was when she resigned her summer associateship on the grounds that while she’d gotten the Feds to drop her as a co-indictee, she had agreed to pay the restitution. She was prepared to walk away from the firm entirely, but Franklin Law’s dean intervened. Fergusson’s solution was to make her Georgia Moran’s paralegal. I get the impression the firm felt that doing data entry on product liability cases would be safe.”

  Jack nodded. Dan knew that meant Jack had assimilated the information, not that he agreed with the conclusion.

  “And the third way you know her?” Jack asked.

  “I’m in love with her and I want to marry her.”

  “Ah.” Jack sat back and relaxed. Dan supposed Jack had guessed about Meghan already and wanted to see what Dan would say.

  “Here’s the thing, Jack. She never told me what the legal trouble was. Not when I was just her boss—of cou
rse I didn’t want or need to know, as I was already aware that she was Franklin Law’s star student—and not when we started uh, seeing each other. I had to ask Anne van Oostrum for the whole story. I’d had no idea it involved a federal indictment. I thought maybe it was—well, actually, I never did have a satisfactory hypothesis. I just knew Meghan was no felon.”

  Jack stared off into space for a long moment, then flipped open the file in front of him. “A woman named Meghan Mattson defrauded various homeowners risking foreclosure by claiming to negotiate with the lenders for as long as the homeowners sent them money. That she was a law student at Franklin Law School was actually part of the scam.”

  “Good God.” Dan tried to reconcile that with what he knew of Meghan and her legal troubles—they were like jigsaw puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together even though the picture matched up perfectly. “She would never have done that.”

  “I suspect you’re right. Another woman, Bianca Boudreau, agreed to a plea bargain. She’s doing forty-eight months at Waseca.”

  “Waseca?”

  “Low security FCI housing women. It’s in southern Minnesota.”

  Dan scratched his chin. “Okay, so Bianca is the doer. What’s the connection to Meghan?”

  Jack looked pained. “Boudreau’s her mother.”

  That set Dan back. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  Dan leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He could smell the bread-like yeastiness of the Guinness.

  Did this make it look better for Meghan or worse? “Did we ever try two family members for white-collar offenses?”

  Jack shrugged, then tilted his head. “Yes. Once. Uncle and nephew.”

  “Nope, don’t recall it. What were the facts?”

  “Check kiting ring. Those were only two of six defendants, if I recall correctly.”

  “Did the family connection make a difference?” Dan asked.

  “Not that I recall.”

  Dan couldn’t see the significance of a mother-daughter connection in Meghan’s case either. He started to think out loud, a familiar practice from when he and Blackjack strategized cases together. “Some possibilities. Mother is the mastermind, daughter’s the dupe. Daughter is the mastermind, mother’s a shill. Or they’re in it together.”

  He thought of something. “Why did the AUSA drop Meghan as a defendant?”

  “Insufficient evidence. Boilerplate language about reserving the right to refile if evidence turned up.” Jack rotated his glass in his hands. “Y’know, I think I need to meet your Ms. Mattson.”

  That was a surprise. “Why?”

  Jack gave him a level look. “You’ve told me three things about her. She’s smarter than Libby—” He held up a hand. “No, you didn’t say that. You’re too tactful. But I know Libby, and if you say Meghan Mattson wrote a better brief and did as well or better in oral argument, then she’s special. She still could be a criminal mastermind, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Anyway, that was fact one. Fact two is that she voluntarily quit her summer associateship. Again—is she an honest person or very, very clever? And fact three, you love her. I could tell you that your love is dispositive for me, but I’m a bit cynical about love—”

  “Wait until it happens to you,” Dan said. “Cynicism—hell, self-preservation—goes right out the window.”

  Jack laughed. “Sounds uncomfortable. I look forward to it.”

  “You laugh now, but you’ll see.”

  “Be that as it may, I can’t trust Ms. Mattson sight unseen. And I assume you want me to help in some way.”

  That startled Dan. Had he come to Jack for help? “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but yes, I guess I did. I just wasn’t sure what constituted help.”

  “Fair enough.” Jack nodded. “So bring her to me and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Jack.” Dan reached to finish his beer.

  “One thing.”

  “Shoot.”

  Jack’s mouth twisted into an almost-smile. “Why did you quit Justice?”

  Dan lifted a shoulder. “I realized you were never going to leave, so I had no hope of applying for your job.”

  The famous Blackjack scowl, which had reduced scores of defendants into mush—and a few judges, too—flashed across Jack’s face. Then he threw back the last of his whiskey. “I wish you’d told me last spring. I might have suggested you stay and see what happened. Although, I can see you made the right decision regardless.”

  Dan opened his mouth to ask what Jack meant, but it was clear from the way Jack gathered up the papers and shoved them into his briefcase that Dan wouldn’t get any answers. And anyway…

  “I’m actually really happy with private practice,” he told Jack. Or maybe he was telling himself.

  Jack looked up and smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Still no answer at Meghan’s.

  Dan wasn’t surprised, but listening to her phone ring over and over and over was simultaneously reassuring—she hadn’t moved out and disconnected the phone—and worrying—she’s home alone, depressed, feeling unloved and abandoned.

  He hung up and walked out to Tessa’s desk.

  “It’s Tuesday morning,” he announced.

  She looked at him with pity. “Yes, boss.”

  “Do I have anything? I mean, anything that can’t be rescheduled?”

  “Do I need to teach you how to access your own calendar?” When he dropped his chin menacingly, she swiveled to look at her computer. “No. You’re supposed to talk with Darlene about replacing Meghan, but I can reschedule that.”

  “Do.” Dan was already walking away from her desk, past his office and down the hall to the elevator.

  All he knew was that Kassie worked in one of the shops at Liberty Plaza. A clothing boutique. Walking toward Market Street, Dan realized he should have printed out a map of the shops so he could do this methodically. Or just phoned them in order. Then he realized the walking gave him the illusion that he was doing something, getting somewhere.

  He found her in the third store he tried, an upscale shop with men’s and women’s clothing. It was the sort of store where a single mannequin wore something that would cost him a week’s pay. Not his impression of Kassie at all. Then he saw her arranging a silk scarf with a ferocious attention to detail. Suddenly, he could see the connection between the barefoot, smiling girl tweaking Meghan’s Cinderella dress and this young woman with the sleek blonde chignon and charcoal gray sheath.

  “Dan!”

  “I’d like to talk. Can you take your break now?” He waited, trying to convey an implacable patience. Just like cross-examining a hostile witness…

  Kassie looked around the empty shop, then spied someone. “Byron, I’m taking my break now.”

  “Right-o, Ms. K,” Byron said with a Caribbean lilt. He shot Dan a stunning smile.

  Dan smiled back, although it was hard.

  Kassie led him out to the atrium. They took the escalator up to the food court. She went straight to Smoothie King where she ordered for both of them. Dan paid and collected the smoothies when they were ready.

  They found two seats at the other end of the food court, near the windows overlooking 17th Street.

  “Okay, you want to talk about Meghan?” Kassie asked.

  “You want me to be honest?”

  She nodded.

  “I have no idea why I’m here. Well, that’s not quite true. I would like some reassurance that she’s okay. She must still have her phone turned off, but apart from telling me she hasn’t had the number changed or disconnected, I can’t be sure she’s not lying in a fetal position someplace.”

  “Over you? Hardly.”

  Dan tried the smoothie. “Not bad. Thanks.”

  “You paid.” Her expression made it clear buying the smoothies was the least he could have done.

  “Okay, so does this situation make sense to you? Yes, I get it that I screwed up.
I get it that she’s mad at me. What I don’t get is why she quit. She’s not a quitter.”

  Kassie frowned. “I don’t think she sees it as quitting.”

  “I was told she came in early yesterday morning, packed up her office, handed in her resignation and was gone by ten-thirty. Sounds like the definition of quitting to me.”

  Kassie waggled her head. “Yeah, she quit the job. I meant she’s not a quitter. She’s not lying in a fetal position someplace.”

  Time to try a different tack. “You know about her legal problems?”

  Kassie nodded cautiously.

  “So you know that’s why she’s not in law school?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I may be able to help. I used to be an Assistant US Attorney here.”

  Kassie’s eyes got huge. “Blackjack McIntyre was your boss? Holy shit.”

  Dan wanted to roll his eyes, but for once Blackjack’s fame worked in his favor. “That’s right. He wants to meet Meghan. Maybe we can sort her problem out so she can get back to Franklin and graduate.”

  Kassie melted. Her face went soft, her shoulders eased, and her lips curved a tiny bit. “Really? Oh, that would be so great. She doesn’t deserve this crap.”

  “Exactly. So tell me where I can find her. I need to get her in to see Jack.”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes shifted to the right. Body language experts would say she was preparing to lie, but in Dan’s experience it just meant the witness was considering what to say, one option being to lie.

  Finally she looked back at Dan. “I have to talk to her. I can’t let you ambush her.”

  Dan stared at Kassie, gauging if he could get more out of her. Probably not. “Okay.”

  He expected her to leave, but instead she leaned back and crossed her legs. Just like that she transformed herself into a bottom-line businesswoman.

  “Why are you trying to help Meghan?”

  Good question. “When I started at the US Attorney’s office, I had a case where this schmucky guy had defrauded his bank. We convicted him. When it came to the sentencing hearing, he asked for a special favor from the judge. Could he serve his sentence in Florida? He’d married a woman who was originally from Colombia. She came from money. I don’t know—maybe that’s why he committed the crime.”