by Stone, Jean
The chimes rang again. She sighed and kicked aside a stack of clothes. It had to be someone looking for someone she didn’t know or selling something she didn’t need.
It was Danny.
“Hey, stranger,” he said brightly, and stepped inside the door. “I happened to be in the neighborhood.…”
“At least you rang the bell this time.” Meg smiled and closed the door behind him. She wondered if, wherever she ended up, she’d ever find as good a friend as Danny.
He made himself at home it the study, amid the piles of papers and cartons of books that Meg had begun weeding out, organizing, packing—memories of a life’s chapter completed, making room for a new one to begin. Danny was, Meg knew, never one to spend much time in living rooms. He claimed that living rooms were too formal, too uninviting, too much a reminder of too many years lived in stifled silence being seen and not heard at his overbearing grandmother’s. He never offered any other information about his family, and Meg never pried, preferring instead to maintain mutual unspoken bounds on the subject of their personal lives.
Meg sat on the floor in front of him and straightened papers as he spoke.
“I still can’t believe you’ve done this.”
“All I’ve done is quit my job, Danny. A career change as one nears forty is hardly anything new. Or shocking.”
“Not if one has a plan.”
“All I know now is that whatever I do, it will be on my terms, handling cases I want, not those dictated to me by senior partners.” She moved a stack of papers to one side. “I want a peaceful life now, Danny. A quiet life.”
“Seems to me your life has been fairly quiet right here, doing what you’ve been doing.”
The telephone rang.
Meg smiled. “It was until today.” She reached for the phone.
“Meg.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “God, Meg, I called your office. They said you don’t work there anymore.”
It was a female voice, but Meg couldn’t place it. “Who is this?”
“It’s me, Meg. Alissa.”
“Oh.” She looked over at Danny and rolled her eyes. “Alissa. How are you?”
“How am I? Do you really have to ask how I am? Don’t you read the papers?”
Meg laughed. “I try not to.”
“Well, if you’d read them this morning, you’d know. There’s been an accident. A man is dead.”
“What kind of accident?” Visions of Candace Riley sprang to Meg’s mind. Danny put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “And who’s dead?”
She listened carefully as Alissa spilled her story. Fortunately, it had nothing to do with Candace. It had nothing to do with Steven. Alissa’s daughter Natalie had come home from a date. She had surprised an intruder in the library. She had grabbed for the gun they kept in the desk drawer. The intruder had picked up the fireplace poker. Natalie had been frightened and the gun mistakenly had gone off.
“Was anyone else in the house?”
“My husband. He was upstairs, asleep. He’s still recuperating from surgery. My other daughter wasn’t home, and Dolores and Howard didn’t hear anything. They never do.”
Meg watched Danny as she carefully asked the next question. “Are you certain this is what happened?”
“What kind of a question is that? Of course I’m certain. My daughter may be a lot of things, but she’s not a liar, and she’s not a murderer.”
Murder? Meg bit her lip. “Does she have a good lawyer?” Meg asked. She’d learned long ago that it was best to stay objective, not to offer advice on a case she knew nothing about.
“She will have.”
“That’s good,” Meg said, but thought, She’s going to need a good one. No witnesses. Nothing more than Natalie’s word against the prosecution.
“She’s going to have you,” Alissa said.
Meg thought she must have heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”
“I want you to defend my daughter.”
Meg looked at Danny and scowled. He stood up and began pacing the room. He was, she knew, itching to find out what she was hearing. “Alissa,” she said slowly, “has your daughter been charged with anything?”
“Not yet. But with these overeager police it won’t be long.”
“She should have an attorney present if they’re questioning her.”
“I remember Perry Mason, Meg. I’m not exactly stupid.”
“Then you’d better get a lawyer. Fast.”
“As I recall, Atlanta is only a two-hour flight from New York.”
“Alissa.” Meg cautiously chose her next words. “You already know I’m no longer at the firm. What you don’t know is that I’m no longer practicing criminal law.”
“Don’t tell me that. I won’t listen.”
“Alissa, it’s true. But I’m sure I can recommend someone in your area …”
“I don’t want anyone in my goddamn area! I know them all. They’re all assholes who only care about their reputations and how much publicity they can get for themselves.”
Meg smiled at the irony in Alissa’s words. She was glad they were having this conversation on the phone and not face-to-face. Danny stopped beside her and sat on the edge of the desk. Meg didn’t want to look at him; she was afraid she would laugh out loud.
“Alissa,” she said, “I’d love to help you. But as I said, I’ve given up criminal law.”
“I think you’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t.”
“Even if it means the media finding out about you?”
Meg felt a cold wave crawl up her spine. The smile vanished from her face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you, Meg. Would it make a difference to you if the media found out about you … and Senator Steven Riley?”
Meg reached out and grabbed Danny’s forearm. “Alissa, you don’t know …”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Meg. I do know. I know all about you and the senator. He was married when you had your affair and he still is.” She laughed a tight, sneering laugh. “His wife is having a few problems of her own right now, too, isn’t she? It seems to me the press would have a real field day between the both of them.”
“Alissa,” Meg said, “this is blackmail.”
Danny bolted off the desk and tried to grab the phone from Meg. She moved back and gripped it firmly.
“Call it what you will, darling, but that’s the deal. You help my daughter, or you and your precious lover will be smeared all over the world.”
It took two glasses of wine to get Meg to stop shaking.
“She’s serious, Danny,” Meg said. “That bitch will do it.”
“She’s not serious, Meg. She’s scared. It was the only way she could think of to get what she wanted. That’s Alissa’s way.”
“Jesus, Danny. Whose side are you on?”
He shook his head. “Not hers. But I do understand Alissa. I understand where she’s coming from, and I’m telling you, she’s scared.”
Meg rubbed the back of her neck. It was hard to believe that only an hour ago she was calmly sorting through clothes, speculating on the possibilities of her new life. Now, because the daughter of a friend who wasn’t even really a friend was in trouble, pessimism for her own future was seeping in. “She said the ‘accident’ was reported in the morning papers. Didn’t you see them?” Meg asked.
“Yeah. There was nothing I noticed. It probably won’t hit New York until tomorrow. Besides, if it was self-defense, it won’t cause much of a ripple.”
Meg chewed her lip and thought about what Danny had just said. “There’s something that doesn’t feel right. Alissa said her daughter wasn’t a murderer. Why would she even have mentioned the word if everything was so simple?”
Danny shrugged. “My guess is your friend tends to overreact.”
“I know. But you didn’t hear the intensity in her voice when she said it.” She poured another glass of wine, hoping it would numb her the way the f
irst two hadn’t. “And why blackmail? Self-defense would hardly warrant that.” She took a slow sip of wine. “And why me?”
“What are you going to do?”
Meg started trembling again. “I’ve got to call Steven. I’ve got to warn him.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to help her?”
“Even if I did, what makes you think Alissa won’t use what she knows against me someday? It’s blackmail, Danny. Blackmailers save their information for when they need it.”
“And I’m telling you, she’s not thinking of blackmail here. She’s just damned scared.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
Danny paced the study once again. “If you want to help her, count me in.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I said count me in. Maybe we should at least go down there. See what it’s about. Dig up some facts.”
Meg laughed. “Is it that you want to help me, or that you want to see Alissa again?”
Danny leaned against the bookcase and folded his arms. “I said I’ll help. I mean it.”
Meg took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “I’ve got to call Steven.” She shook her head. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine how she found out.”
“People like Alissa have a way of finding out things. But maybe this isn’t so bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least she’s given you a good excuse to contact lover boy again.”
“You know, Danny, I think that deep down, you really like Alissa.”
“Let’s just say I understand her.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah. Besides, she isn’t interested in me. The last time I saw her, she couldn’t get away fast enough.” He started toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud.
“Shit?”
He turned back to Meg. “My hotel room. In Atlanta. I had to make a call.” He returned to the study and sat down. “Shit. My grandmother …”
“Your grandmother?”
Danny nodded and ran his hands through his hair. “She broke her hip.”
“God, Danny, I didn’t even know she was alive.”
Danny frowned. “She’s tucked away in her manor, upstate on the Hudson. She raised me.”
Meg was confused. “What’s your grandmother got to do with Alissa?”
He stood up again. He paced. “She’s got nothing to do with Alissa. It’s with you. And Steven. When I met with Alissa in Atlanta, I went into the bedroom to make the call to the hospital. To check on her. My briefcase was in the other room. With Alissa.”
“And?”
“And inside I had the file with the clippings on the senator’s wife. The car accident. I must have had notes with your name on them.”
Meg set down her wineglass and watched the pale-yellow liquid sway from the impact. “And Alissa helped herself to the file and put two and two together.”
Danny nodded. “So it appears.”
She stared at the glass until the liquid settled. “Then it’s true,” she said. “She really does know.”
Danny sat down again. “God, Meg. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to help you.”
The senator, his assistant told Meg, was out to lunch. She left a message that this was an emergency, then hung up the phone and told Danny she would be in touch. After Danny left, Meg slouched on the sofa in the study, her thoughts whirring, her eyes glued to the phone. Ring, dammit.
When it rang an hour and a half later, Meg jumped as though she’d been shot by sniper fire. His voice was tentative, on guard, as though she were an associate, as though they’d never been intimate.
Slowly, Meg told him the story.
When she was finished, there was silence for a moment. Then Steven said, “How did she find out?”
Meg thought about Danny. Her friend. He’d only been trying to help. “I’ve no idea how she found out,” she said.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. She knows, and there’s no sense denying it.”
“But, Steven, if the press finds out …”
“If they do, they do. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Listen, Meg, I’ve done a lot of thinking since I saw you.” He paused a moment. She heard a half laugh. “Actually, I’ve done more than think. I’ve left Candace. I’ve filed for divorce.”
Meg sat perfectly still, trying to digest his words. But something about them wasn’t getting through, as though she was afraid to believe them.
“Public sympathy probably won’t be with me, so I may be through in politics,” Steven continued, “but maybe going back to practicing law won’t be such a bad idea.”
Meg pressed her temple. Her breathing had grown short, shallow.
“If you want to defend your friend,” Steven continued, “then you should do it because you want to help her. Don’t do it to protect me.”
Protect him? Is that what she was trying to do? Of course it was, Meg realized. The same way she’d tried to protect him by having the abortion, the same way she’d tried to protect him from herself … and from the misery she could have caused in his life. Protection. But at what cost?
She took a deep breath. “My friend says he doesn’t think she’ll do anything. That she’s just scared.”
Steven paused, then said, “I was going to ask how well you know her, but I’ve realized lately that no matter how well we think we know someone, we never really do.”
He was, she knew, speaking of her. He was trying to tell her he didn’t understand why she’d left him—twice. But what he didn’t realize was that Meg hadn’t really known Steven either, for in her heart she had never believed that Steven would leave his wife, she had never believed that he had the courage to jeopardize his career. She’d never believed it, because she’d been so afraid of being hurt. She’d been afraid; she’d been scared. She thought about Alissa. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe she was just scared, too. Damned scared. “I have to think about this some more,” Meg said. “I’ve quit the firm, you know. I’ve decided to get out of criminal law.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know.” He didn’t say it, but she could hear surprise in his voice. “What are you planning to do?”
Meg suddenly realized the fact that she had no concrete plans was foolish. Had she made an immature decision? Had she made it too quickly? She felt as though she were going to cry. She felt as though she were lost in the darkness with no light to show her the way out. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Family law, maybe. Women’s issues.”
Steven paused. “That’s good, Meg. I always thought you were meant to be a crusader instead of a barracuda.”
Meg made no comment; she was too amazed that Steven had, after all, understood her so well.
“Will you let me know what happens?” he asked. “Not just with your friend, but with yourself? Will you let me know how you’re doing?”
Meg bit her lip. “Yes,” she said quietly, “of course.”
When she hung up the phone, Meg lay on the sofa and felt the tears come. She’d never felt so alone. She had no one to love her, no work to occupy her. All her life she’d been afraid of being abandoned. Now she had been. She wondered if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, fate, self-induced. More than anything in the world, Meg wanted to rush down to Washington and into Steven’s arms. More than anything, she wanted someone to care about her. Scared. Yes. Alissa was scared. But so was Meg. She was lost, empty, and truly alone. A painful ache throbbed in her head, then crept through her body. And for the first time in her life Meg allowed herself to feel the fear. Fear that couldn’t be masked by studying or reading or by working on all the legal cases in the world. For she knew that if she didn’t finally feel it, she would never face it. And facing it was something that was long overdue.
Two thousand miles away Zoe and Jay stood on the deck of Cedar Bluff, looking out at the morning sun. They had slept together last night; they had made love
until dawn. When Zoe protested they were “too old to behave like this,” Jay had smiled that wonderful smile and said, “Lady, we’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”
He put his arm around her now. “You’re really something, Zoe. Keeping this magnificent house. Diving back into your career. You’re very much a woman of the nineties, aren’t you?
Zoe smiled. “Hardly. I’m more like a woman of the seventies, just trying to catch up.”
Jay hugged her. “Well, I think it’s great what you’re doing. Most women wouldn’t even attempt it. Especially alone.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “But there’s one thing I’d like to know. How flexible are you?”
Zoe pulled away from him and looked through his glasses into his green eyes, the eyes she trusted without hesitation, though she’d known him only a few days. His hair was blowing every which way, the sun melted into his smile. “What kind of a question is that?”
He reached across and took her hand. “I’ve got to be gone for a couple of weeks. South Korea.”
“What’s that got to do with my being flexible?”
Jay shrugged, then looked back over the canyon. “I guess I want to be sure you’ll still be here when I get back.”
Zoe leaned closer to him. “I’ll be here, Jay. Well, maybe not here. I may be off shooting the new film, but I’ll be back.”
“You won’t find another guy in the meantime, will you?”
Zoe laughed. She buried herself in his khaki jacket, smelling the sweet scent of the man. “Are you kidding? I’ll be too busy studying my lines.”
“Ah. Now you’re making yourself too available. Don’t you know that’s not how you play the game?”
“What game?”
“The boy-meets-girl game. The game of love.”
Love. It was the first time Jay had mentioned the word. Zoe stood back, her hand still in his, her eyes locked on him. “Is that what this is?” she asked. “Love?”