“Did they give a reason for that?”
“Suppose you take care of what you’re supposed to do this weekend and I’ll try to have all these answers by Monday.”
“I don’t get to nudge you about one more thing?” I asked.
“Shoot.”
“Lawrence Pritchard. The engineer who was fired from the water project for taking kickbacks. I know you were peeved at George Golden yesterday, but you’ve got to talk to someone about exactly what that involved.”
“Relax, blondie. Reset your coffeepot with decaf for a change. Get off the high-octane juice, okay? Teddy O’Malley has the skinny on that. It all happened when Duke Quillian was the union rep three years back. A bribery scheme that Pritchard tried to engineer with one of the bureaucrats. Not good for the union, so he and Duke went head-to-head on it.”
“But Max checked with the rackets bureau this afternoon,” I said. “There was never an indictment-not even any record of an investigation.”
“Bronx County, Coop. Battaglia never got his hands on this one.”
A large portion of the tunnel construction was completed in the Bronx before work had even gotten under way in Manhattan. I should have thought of that myself. “And Duke never cooperated?”
“Cat got his tongue. Might have had something to do with the fact that Lawrence Pritchard threatened to put big Duke’s lights out if he ever squealed. Maybe that’s why Brendan Quillian wants to find him.”
16
“You really ought to get some sleep,” Nina said. “It’s almost midnight.”
“How often do I have the chance to sit up all night and talk to you?”
Joan and Jim had organized a sunset clambake for the thirty guests who had arrived for the wedding. The glorious stretch of Black Point Beach was on the Atlantic Ocean, and with bonfires ablaze, we had feasted on local shellfish taken right out of Tisbury Great Pond, hot clam chowder from the Bite, burgers from the Galley, and dozens of lobsters from Larsen’s Fish Market.
When I returned to the house after the festive evening, Nina-who had randomly been assigned as my roommate from our first day at Wellesley-was settling in after her long trip from California. We had taken different paths in both our personal and professional lives-Nina marrying a college boyfriend and mothering her young son, Gabe, while also making partner at a powerhouse L.A. law firm, with an expertise in packaging large entertainment projects for screen and television movies.
Nina had opened a bottle of Sancerre and nestled into the oversize armchair in a corner of the living room, and I filled my glass and settled in on the floor in my sweatshirt and leggings, resting my head on a pillow at her feet.
We caught each other up on family, I listened to Nina talk about the contract negotiations of her latest deal, and she indulged me while I tried out my response to Lem Howell’s motion to dismiss Brendan Quillian’s murder indictment for failure to make the People’s case.
“So, cut to the chase, Alex,” she said, yawning and pulling a cashmere throw over her robe. “Didn’t you tell me that you were bringing a guy to the wedding? For almost a month his name was in every e-mail you sent me. Then he dropped off a cliff.”
“Easy come, easy go. I got in a bit over my head, and our pal the bride didn’t exactly help.”
“This was your airplane pickup?”
“Yup. Dan Bolin. Met him in April, when Joanie was up here with me for the weekend. Came on way too strong but even she thought he was charming.” I reminded Nina of the story of our meeting.
“Did you…?” Nina said, lifting her eyebrows as she tried to tease an admission out of me.
“No. Never got that far.”
Her leg straightened out and she poked her toe against my knee. “It’s me you’re talking to. Tell the truth.”
I smiled and sipped my wine. “Turns out he wasn’t quite as separated as he told me he was when we started dating. Couldn’t ever see me on Thursday evenings. I bought the story that it was his standing racquetball game and dinner with the guys.”
“What was it?”
“Marriage counseling. They were still trying to find a way to put things back together. Dan’s one of those guys who just can’t stand being alone for a minute.”
“Thank goodness he told you before you got in any deeper.”
“He didn’t tell me. The florist did.”
“What?”
“Way too many flowers. The Dan Bolin signature. All flowers all the time. About six weeks into our dating frenzy, there must have been a particularly heartwarming session with the counselor. The estranged wife got a magnificent bouquet, and mine must have been pretty nice as well.”
“You never saw it?”
“Nope. The florist mixed up the delivery. I got hers with a note promising reconciliation as soon as his head cleared, and whatever enticing words he penned to lure me into bed landed in her hands. She called him while I was still up in court. The whole thing was over before it began.”
“Sometimes, when I’m dealing with the PTA and playdates and car pools, I’m so envious of your lifestyle I want to scream. And then I think of how miserable it would be to be back on the market and wouldn’t swap with you for all the money in the world. Didn’t Joan have a fix-up for you months ago?”
I rolled on my side and stared out the window at the nearly full moon that lit the lawn and the surface of the water at the bottom of the hill. “She’s always got a prospect for me. I just can’t stand blind dates. I’ve got nothing to talk about but my work.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ve got great friends, you do interesting things, you’re a voracious reader, and you happen to have a job that gives you enormous emotional satisfaction. Talk about those things.”
“Yeah, but most guys really think the job is strange. That I must stay in the office because I hate men or something.”
“Don’t they understand how rewarding it is to take victims into court and help them regain their dignity?” Nina said. “Guys like Mike get it. Why couldn’t you convince him to come up here this weekend?”
I got up from the floor, kissed Nina on the crown of her head, and embraced her.
“It’s only been six months since Val was killed. It’s still way too raw for him. I keep trying to find ways to-you know-ways to get him out of his morose mood, bring him back. It’s like I’ve lost my right arm.”
I started toward my bedroom as Nina corked the bottle.
“I know what you can do to bring him back, Alex. You know it, too, don’t you?”
I waved her off.
“You fly up here with Mike one weekend, to this incredibly romantic setting. A few logs in the fireplace, more of this great wine. You’ll both be better for it. You haven’t forgotten how, have you?”
“I’m cutting you off, Nina,” I said, wagging a finger at her and laughing. “I work with the man. We’re partners on some of the most serious cases in the city, and you know as well as I do that our professional relationship would have to end if-if-”
“If you got smart and took a chance? Worst that happens is that somebody else will work the big trials.”
“I need the judge and jury to speculate about my sexual escapades, too? You’ve met Lem Howell-Mr. Triplicate. That would be a really sweet cross-examination, wouldn’t it?” I paced the floor, doing my best imitation of Howell’s manner and delivery. “‘Isn’t it true, Detective Chapman, that Ms. Cooper asked you-no, ordered you-demanded that you come up with some kind of confession from my client? Isn’t it true that you fabricated this statement in order to get yourself into her arms-into her pants-into her bed?’”
I stopped and shook my head. “I can’t believe I actually worry about how complicated my friendship is with Mike.”
“Bad news and good news.”
“What? That with my track record the romance won’t work, and I’ll also be out of a job for going after it?”
“The bad news is that you’re dead-on about the line of questioning from a good defense at
torney,” Nina said. “The good news is that you even think about it.”
17
“Isn’t rain supposed to mean good luck on your wedding day?”
Nina and I were helping Joan dress, in my bedroom, at six o’clock on Saturday. Our friends were gathering on the wide lawn, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight anywhere in the brilliant blue sky.
“There were a few sprinkles just after midnight,” Nina said. “Make do with that. My hair would be a nightmare if there was even a hint of precipitation.”
“Here you go, Joan. Borrowed and blue in one fell swoop.” I unhooked the sapphire bracelet that Nina’s husband had given her on her tenth anniversary and clasped it on the bride’s wrist. “You look absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I can barely breathe in this thing,” Joan said, adjusting the strapless ivory dress and looking out the window at the couples ambling toward the tent where the ceremony would be performed. “I should never have had that lobster roll for lunch yesterday. Where’s my Jimmy?”
“He’s right out there, talking to your mother,” Nina said.
“Is he wearing socks?” Joan asked.
“Why…?”
“No cold feet, right?” Joan walked into the bathroom to finish touching up.
“He looks deliriously happy, darling. It’s either the three-hundred-fifty-pound thresher shark the guys caught today or he really does want to get hitched. You ready to make this legal?” I picked up the leatherbound folder that held my remarks. The certificate from the secretary of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts authorizing me to solemnize the marriage was on top.
Nina and I looked each other over, head to toe, as we had done scores of times before we’d set out on the town together.
She put her arms on my shoulders and squared off in front of me. “Are you sure you can do this?” she asked.
When Adam’s car had crashed on the way to the Vineyard, it was Nina who had had to break the news of his death to me. This very hilltop that was supposed to be the site of our own wedding represented for a time my greatest heartbreak. Now it would be invested with new joy.
“Don’t ever forget him, will you?”
“Not a prayer.”
“Then this is the perfect thing to do for Joan and Jim. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re mush under all that tough stuff you put on in court,” Nina said as Joan came back to us for a second look. “Here comes the bride. Okay, you’re ravishing this time. Good-bye, Ms. Stafford, and hello, Mrs. Hageville. See you shortly.”
We could hear the music playing. It was my turn to give the bride a last prenuptial hug and walk out to the tent. Jim offered his hand and I stepped up on the platform, happy to see that so many of our friends had made the trip to my island paradise to witness the happy occasion.
I scanned the rows of guests as everyone turned to follow the bride’s procession toward the makeshift altar. Nina winked at me, and I noticed a man I’d never seen before leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Joan and Jim broke into irrepressible smiles as they locked eyes and she glided into place by his side.
“Dearly beloved, we have come together here today, on this magical island-on a perfect June evening-to celebrate the marriage of Joan and Jim.
“How fitting it is that the Vineyard is the place you chose to formalize your union. The first trip you took together was to this island, finding pleasure in its glorious natural setting, finding sustenance in the magnificent waters that encircle its shores.”
I had written a short service for them, after which I was ready to take the bride and groom through the classic vows-simple words that belied the profound commitment they represent.
“…as I ask you, Jim, do you take Joan to be your wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward-for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, so long as you both shall live?”
His strong basso voice resonated throughout the tent when he said, “I do.”
Now all the ladies’ tissues came out. Joan affirmed her vows as rings were exchanged and I ended the short ceremony. “It gives me great pleasure, by virtue of whatever authority is vested in me by the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, to now pronounce you man and wife. Jim, you may kiss the bride.”
The devoted friends were all on their feet applauding the long embrace and the recessional, before moving to the two larger tents that had been set up, one for a seated dinner and the other for dancing.
Champagne corks popped as waiters filled our glasses and Jim made a toast to his dazzling bride. Nina snaked her way to me after greeting old friends and stopping to chat with Mrs. Stafford.
“Add this talent to your résumé, Alex. You did just fine.”
“I’ll pass on that, but thanks,” I said, touching my flute against hers. “It’s even more nerve-racking than giving an opening argument. I kept waiting for someone to stand up in the tent and object.”
“Mrs. Stafford almost did. She can’t bear the thought of Joan living in Washington.”
“Neither can I. Now, who’s your new best friend, darling? You were tête-à-tête through the whole ceremony.”
“The poor guy didn’t know anybody, so I was pointing out all the players. I never got his name, but he said he goes way back with Jim. Catch your eye, did he? I didn’t think he was your type.”
“What would that be?”
“Aloof. Unavailable. Self-centered. Any or all of the above. Who did the seating for dinner? Maybe I can play around with the place cards,” Nina said. “His looks are so uneven, aren’t they? Makes it more interesting.”
“Don’t mess with Joan’s tables. It’s all very carefully calculated.”
I could see Jim’s friend just a few feet away, conversing with two other journalists I’d met last night. Nina was right about his features. One wouldn’t describe him as classically handsome-a slim, chiseled face with what my mother called a Roman nose, long and straight, and wire-rimmed glasses that shaded his blue-gray eyes. But he exuded a strong, attractive presence, and I blushed when he turned and caught me staring at him.
“How old do you think he is?” Nina asked.
“Who?”
“The guy in your sights.”
“Sorry. I was just daydreaming-nothing serious. Maybe forty-five or so.”
“A mature man would be such a good change for you. Better mingle, Alex. Here comes Mrs. S.”
“That was such a sweet thing for you to do,” Joan’s mother said as she approached me to introduce a gaggle of relatives. “You’ve absolutely got to be the next to go. Aren’t your parents frantic that you’re still single?”
“I figure they’ve just given up on me.”
“Married to her job,” she said to the others. “That’s what I always say about Miss Alexandra.”
I circulated among our friends and guests for more than an hour, until the sun slipped behind the Aquinnah ridge and the groom asked us all to be seated.
“You’re with us,” Joan said, looping her arm through mine and walking me to the table, to the seat next to Jim. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough for doing this. I’m delirious, and everyone else seems to be having a great time.”
“Congratulations. I hope I’m gaining a husband and not losing one of my best friends.”
“That’s a deal,” Jim said. “Have you two met yet?”
I turned to find his friend standing behind me. “No. No, we haven’t. I’m Alex. Alexandra Cooper.”
He gave me a crooked smile-sexy and warm-and set his glass down on the table before reaching for my hand. “Luc. Luc Rouget. Joan tells me you’ve graciously agreed to put a roof over my head tonight. I’m very grateful.”
“I know how pleased they must be to have you here,” I said as he pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit down. “I’m delighted to do it. When did you get to the island?”
The French accent was an added starter. “About an hour before the ceremony.”
“From?”
“A very long trip, actually. My home is in Mougins-the south of France. Do you know it?”
“The Côte d’Azur. I’ve only been there once. It’s quite beautiful.”
“Then you must come again. I shall have to repay your hospitality.”
The seating plan was no accident. Joan’s playfulness amused me. “And you’ve traveled all this way for the wedding?”
The waiter refilled our glasses as Luc leaned in to talk to me. “It was a perfect opportunity for me to get some business done in New York this week. Jim and I go back twenty years-when he was assigned to the Paris bureau of the Washington Post. I didn’t want to miss this affair.”
Nina was standing behind the waiter, trying to get to her seat to Luc’s left. He rose to greet her again as she bent over and tried to whisper discreetly in my ear.
“I’ve got a little more intelligence on your houseguest. Add three years, an ex-wife-but really ex-and two kids,” she said. “And he’s G.U.”
The translation meant that Luc was forty-eight and divorced, but geographically undesirable.
“Were you in on this plan?”
“Totally Joan. There’s an ocean and an Alpine mountain range between the two of you. I haven’t lost my mind completely,” Nina said, straightening up and handing the handkerchief she had borrowed from Luc during the ceremony back to him. “Thanks for the loan. I know you’re Luc. I’m Nina Baum.”
“Enchanté,” he said, kissing her outstretched hand. “Without you, I wouldn’t have had any idea who all these people are. You and Alexandra are the only two I got a full advance briefing on.”
“You did?” Nina asked.
“Well, Jim told me that your husband couldn’t make the trip, so I’m to be certain that your glass is always full and to expect that you’ll need a dance partner from time to time,” Luc said, as expressive with his hands as he was with his eyes. “And I’m afraid I have to admit, Alex, that Joan had planned to introduce us a few months ago, when I was in the city. I think you-how shall I say? You protested, is that right?”
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