Anything You Can Do

by Sally Berneathy

  As she flipped the coin for the twenty-first time, the time she promised herself would be the final tie breaker, Stafford Morris charged in, descended into one of her chairs, and propped his feet on her desk.

  "Good morning," she snapped. "Come in. Have a seat. Put your feet up. Make yourself comfortable."

  He sipped coffee from a large, thick mug, then pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and started to unwrap it.

  "You light that in here, and I'll put it out in the exact center of your head," she warned.

  "Better have some more coffee," he advised. "You need it." But he returned the cigar to his pocket. "Tough decision? I thought you'd really latch onto the idea of being in control of everyone's fate."

  "Just keep it up, and I'll vote against you." Bailey snatched up her mug and drained it even though the coffee was stone-cold and pretty awful.

  "So you're planning to vote with me. I thought as much. You like the status quo." He looked so smug, she thought of retrieving the cigar, lighting it, and carrying out her threat.

  "Which doesn't mean I have the right to vote to keep it. What about other people's rights? What if this is the wrong decision? I don't want to control the fate of others."

  Stafford lowered his feet to the floor with a thud and stood up, grinning. "Bailey, you take things too seriously. Vote the way you want to and make it a tie vote. I’ll break the tie."

  "Not if I vote in favor, you won't," she retorted, springing from her chair and leaning toward him.

  "Okay." He shrugged. "In that case, Hollis'll cast the deciding vote." Unwrapping his cigar, he left her office.

  Typical irrational lawyer logic, Bailey thought, flopping back into her chair. Something you'd use to sway a jury.

  She tossed the coin into the air again, slapping her hand on it as it landed, but not looking to see which side was up. Stafford's logic did make a kind of sense. At least, if you wanted to buy into it, it did. And boy, did she ever want to buy into it.

  She rose, smoothed her navy skirt, and straightened her shoulders. He was right about some things, though. She did like the status quo, the small size of the firm, the familiar clients, even the incomprehensible way Stafford Morris chose to run things. And she could only cast her vote the way she felt was right, even if part of that "rightness" came from personal things like concern for Gordon's place in a big firm.

  Having made her decision, she started confidently down the hall toward the conference room but was struck midway by a strange feeling she couldn't readily identify. After a few confused moments, she admitted it was concern for Austin. This was someone's career she was voting on, not a game or a contest, and winning didn't feel like winning anymore.

  With an odd rush of elation, she hurried on to the meeting. If she was concerned about Austin, that meant he wasn't influencing her vote. She wouldn't be voting against him, only against the merger. Perversely, that made it okay.

  *~*~*

  True to his word, Stafford withheld his ballot until last. However, to Bailey's surprise, the final tally showed only two votes in favor and five against.

  "Feel better?" Stafford boomed as he caught up with her striding down the hall after the meeting.

  "Maybe, maybe not," Bailey evaded. "If I were one of the two dissenting votes, probably not."

  "You weren't," he declared confidently.

  "You sound awfully sure of yourself." She turned into her office door.

  He laughed and waved his cigar as he strode away from her down the hall.

  "Wait," she called, hurrying after him. "Did you know all along that someone had changed his vote?"

  "Maybe, maybe not," he mocked her. "If someone did change his vote, it might be because somebody else talked some sense into him."

  She followed him into his office and closed the door.

  "But you let me keep on worrying!"

  Stafford settled in his chair behind his desk and pulled some papers in front of him. "You voted for what you wanted. That's all that mattered. All that ever mattered. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

  Bailey flopped into one of his chairs, settled her feet on his desktop, and crossed her ankles. Stafford glared at her, but she glared back.

  "I have a problem—the firm has a problem—and, as managing partner, it becomes your problem." She told him what she had discovered about Candy Miller, omitting the more interesting details of how she uncovered the information. "It seems to me," she concluded, "that the firm has some potential liability."

  Stafford shook his head and crushed his cigar to splinters in the ashtray. "I don't see how you got mixed up in this thing in the first place. That case was assigned to—uh—"

  "Margaret," Bailey supplied.

  "Yeah, her. So I don't know what you're doing in the middle of it."

  "Helping her," Bailey responded quickly.

  He gave her a suspicious look. "Whatever," he finally said. "Tell Margaret to find out what's going on ASAP, and you get out of it just as fast."

  For once, Bailey didn't feel inclined to argue. Nevertheless, she soon decided she couldn't follow Stafford's orders. When she went immediately to Margaret's office and tried to explain the situation, the girl's small eyes seemed to retreat back into her round face.

  "What are you trying to do?" Margaret asked. "At first you acted like you wanted to help me. Now you want to mess up the whole deal."

  Bailey stood just inside the closed door of Margaret's cubicle with her arms folded, glad she hadn't elected to take a seat. It looked like she was going to have to intimidate. "This doesn't involve messing up a deal. This involves a possibility—a probability—of fraud. This involves ethics, not to mention our firm's reputation. "

  "Everything's going great," Margaret protested. "We're probably going to win. Why are you doing this to me? You don't even know for sure that something's wrong."

  "And I'm not suggesting we do anything about it until we are sure, but I am saying we need to look into this immediately. This is an order from the top, Margaret." If logic didn't penetrate the dense layers, maybe force would.

  "Okay," the girl agreed with a shrug, averting her eyes. "I'll go check it out as soon as I get a chance."

  Which evasive reply certainly, Bailey felt, justified her trip to the courthouse to determine the truth for herself no matter what Stafford Morris said.

  *~*~*

  Austin knew he was in real trouble when he was disappointed to find that Candy Miller had been involved in another, very similar lawsuit a couple of years before. He walked down the courthouse hallway, clutching his copies of the incriminating papers, wondering exactly what he should do next. He should be thrilled to have more ammunition against Bailey, but he wasn't.

  He'd thought a lot about her since leaving her Sunday afternoon and had come to a conclusion. It was vitally important to him to establish a relationship with her.

  All other women were pale ghosts beside her. She made him feel vital and alive. Their lovemaking had been earthshaking, opened totally new dimensions. But he knew the weekend had been only a respite. For a little while they'd touched the possibilities, but they still had a way to go before they achieved an ongoing relationship.

  It represented his biggest challenge to date, but he had no doubt it would be well worth the effort.

  He paused to lean over a water fountain, not really thirsty but reluctant to leave the courthouse, as though taking the information from the premises would make it real, inescapable. When he straightened, he saw Bailey heading down the hallway he'd just come up. He watched until she turned into the doorway he'd recently vacated.

  No need to speculate about what she was doing. She hadn't known the details. She was there to check and verify, just as he had been. And now, being the moral person she was, she'd admit her error and back out of the case. Which meant he wouldn't have to crush her. That would undoubtedly make their relationship a little smoother.

  With a sigh he jabbed the elevator button. Which also meant he wouldn'
t be facing her in the courtroom. What a battle that would have been! Too bad, really. But some things had to be sacrificed.

  He'd be magnanimous when she admitted defeat, comfort her. No, scratch that. Even in his fantasies, he couldn't imagine being allowed to comfort her.

  He stepped into the elevator smiling so broadly a couple of people returned his smile.

  Definitely not comfort her. Not even in defeat. Run from her, maybe! But not too fast. Let her catch him. Then when they worked up a good head of steam fighting…

  The elevator opened and he sauntered out of the building, headed for his office.

  It had taken him quite a while to dig out the information, but she would likely have more of a lead as to where to look than he did. He'd give her an hour then phone her at the office and make dinner plans. Something simple but elegant. Maybe fish or steak. No sauces. Nothing messy in case she decided to throw it.

  CHAPTER 12

  "Since you're the official attorney of record, you need to sign this and get it to the court as soon as possible." Bailey slapped a file onto Margaret's desk. The pleading paper-clipped to the front of the folder was partially hidden by a handwritten memo, "Margaret, handle ASAP."

  Margaret scowled as she pulled the file across her desk, lifted the memo, and scanned the pleading.

  "I checked at the courthouse," Bailey went on, "and confirmed my suspicions. Our client is trying to perpetrate an insurance fraud. She's done it before, with the roles reversed."

  "So you took it upon yourself to draw up a 'Motion to Withdraw as Attorney of Record.' You don't have the right to do this!" Margaret exclaimed, pushing the file with its attachment away from her. "This isn't your case."

  Bailey folded her arms adamantly. She'd expected protests after their last conversation. "Every case in this office concerns every lawyer who's a part of the firm. Since I became involved in this matter with your approval, and since I'm the one with the crucial information, I feel my actions are appropriate."

  "Fine, you just go on and feel that way, and I'll take care of my case." Margaret drew the folder back proprietarily.

  "Very well." Bailey offered a single sheet of paper covered with her sprawling handwriting. "Then you'll doubtless want to take a look at this—my notes from the courthouse."

  Margaret snatched the paper eagerly, glanced at it, then scowled. "It's a photocopy."

  "Yes." Bailey smiled without mirth as she turned to leave. "I have the original in case you lose that one." She paused in the doorway. "I'll be back to pick up the signed Motion as soon as you've had time to study the facts."

  With a great deal of effort, she refrained from slamming the door on her way out.

  When Austin got back to his office, his secretary handed him a message that Stafford Morris had called. The merger, of course. With everything else that had been happening, he'd forgotten all about that.

  Easing into his chair, he studied the message slip fixedly as though he could somehow find an answer in the printed form. Bailey had hinted so strongly that she could block the deal, but would she, particularly after Saturday night?

  He smiled at the memory of the easy camaraderie at the race track. His whole body tingled as he recalled the soaring vibrancy of their lovemaking, and he reached for the phone.

  Having made an appointment to meet with Morris that afternoon, he decided to wait until then and approach Bailey in person about dinner. Whistling softly, he turned to work.

  When he popped into Bailey's office without warning that afternoon, she seemed to be in a foul mood, barking instructions to her secretary. However, he felt a warm glow inside when she looked up at his greeting, and her scowl turned into a smile that curved her soft lips and twinkled in her sea green eyes.

  "Thank you, Sharon," she said to her secretary.

  "We'll finish up later. Come on in, Austin. How about some coffee?"

  "Can't," he replied, returning her smile, savoring her presence and her obvious pleasure at seeing him. "Got an appointment with the big guy. Maybe you could work me in for ten minutes after he's through with me."

  Her smile faded slowly as he spoke. She picked up a file from her desk and looked at it, then laid it back down. "Sure," she said. A shadow settled in her usually translucent eyes.

  "Great," he replied, not understanding her change. "Great. We can discuss our favorite case, new developments, uh, you know…" His voice trailed off as her entire face glazed over in ice.

  "If you wish to meet with me on behalf of your client, contact my secretary and we'll schedule a conference."

  Jeez, she was touchy! "That's not what I meant," he said placatingly. "I'd like to talk to you about some—" he lowered his voice— "other things. I just thought maybe you and I also have something to discuss about Candy and Alvin's activities."

  He'd been ready to deal with some anger on her part when she found out she'd lost, but not this withdrawal, this twenty-degree drop in the temperature of the room. He'd expected—even anticipated—sparks and fire.

  "Bailey," came an irritated voice from the doorway, "this Candy Miller deal—oh!"

  Austin turned to see the rabbity-looking associate he remembered from the insurance company's deposition glaring at him from behind her thick lenses.

  "Let me get back to you on that, Margaret," Bailey responded, icicles dripping from every word.

  "That's okay," Austin said. "I need to get on to my appointment." He pushed past Margaret and moved into the hallway.

  He wasn't eavesdropping, he assured himself, but his slow footsteps were probably a direct cause of his overhearing Margaret's angry comment just before she closed the door.

  "I took it to Stafford. We can't just—" The door slammed.

  Austin's steps became slower, but his mind raced. Can’t just what? Continue to represent a client who was perpetrating fraud?

  It would seem that Bailey had no intention of admitting that her client was in the wrong. That knowledge hit hard. He'd expected more from Bailey—lots more. Never, no matter how angry he'd become with her, had he ever entertained the slightest doubt about her integrity. But even that associate knew Bailey wasn't acting ethically.

  "Well, if it's not Jimmy the Greek." Paula greeted him with a big grin as he approached her cubicle.

  "Hello, Paula," he replied, trying to pull out of his reverie and sound friendly, although small talk wasn't even a possibility considering the big things that were racing through his head. "I think your boss is expecting me."

  She nodded and picked up the phone to announce his presence. "How about a cup of coffee?" she asked, ushering him into the corner office. "It's really concentrated this time of day. A few sips are all it takes. All you can take, too."

  "No, thanks." He needed a drink, all right, but coffee wouldn't cut it.

  When Stafford told him the merger had been voted down, he found he wasn't even surprised. Somewhere inside he'd known from Bailey's reaction to his appointment with Stafford. Through a haze, he watched the man's lips moving and heard some of the conciliatory phrases— "admire what you're doing," "recommend clients we can't handle," "just not right for us." He studied the long ash on the cigar Stafford waved around and tried to deal with his new knowledge of Bailey, a deceitful Bailey who voted against the merger just to win against him.

  In hypnotic fascination, he watched the cigar ash drop onto a pleading clipped to the front of a file folder. Stafford brushed it away with no break in his discourse, but Austin's gaze remained riveted to the file. On the top left corner, a piece of notepaper printed with the words FROM THE DESK OF BAILEY RUSSELL partially covered the name of the case, but he saw enough to know it was a new pleading in the Service Insurance/Miller case. On the notepaper was the handwritten message in Bailey's unmistakable scrawl, "Margaret, handle ASAP." Bailey was pursuing the case when she knew her client's claim was fraudulent.

  Austin realized Stafford had stopped talking. Turning his attention back to the man, Austin felt something freeze in his chest. The ro
om took on a crystal clarity, every detail distinct. He could count the hairs on Stafford's balding head.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Austin said, responding to the comments about the merger. "Just for my edification, how close was the vote?"

  Stafford chuckled quietly, complacently, Austin thought. "Can't tell you that. Doesn't really matter. Majority rules, one or seven."

  And that, Austin thought, told him what he needed to know. Bailey had been included in the voting to make seven, and the majority had probably been by one vote. She had beaten him. Simply for the thrill of winning, she had sabotaged his efforts, his career, and was assisting in defrauding his client. She knew what she was doing was wrong. That's why she'd been so cold to him a few minutes ago.

  Somehow Austin managed to stand, smile, and shake hands with Stafford. Paula's mouth was moving as he walked past her, but he couldn't hear the words over the roaring in his head.

  Bailey's door was open. When he charged in, she stood, her ivory skin becoming even paler, her eyes huge.

  "I had to do what I felt was right," she said quietly, her voice strangely calm considering the circumstances.

  "Right?" he stormed. "All you want to do is win. Right isn't even part of your vocabulary."

  Her gaze narrowed and her face flushed with sudden color. Splaying her hands on her desktop, she leaned toward him. "You're having a temper tantrum because you lost, and you have the gall to accuse me of only wanting to win?"

  "That's right, trying to win at any cost, and I emphasize the word trying." He leaned toward her, narrowing the distance, getting so close, he could see the faint freckles on her nose, smell her clean freshness. His teeth clenched as he reminded himself her character was neither clean nor fresh.

  "You win the merger deal," he taunted, "but I can tell you one case you're going to lose, though it won't be from lack of trying, will it? I know all about Candy's history."

  She pulled back, and he knew he'd struck home. "So you end up being a party to a crime," he pressed on. "So what, as long as you win?"

  "Get out of my office," she ordered, her eyes and voice glacial.