The stenographer reads in a monotone:
Witness: Could you repeat the question, please?
Mr. Kostova: Dammit!
Kostova says, “Your Honor, what the transcript doesn’t show is that a glass of water—”
“You’ll have your turn in a moment, Mr. Kostova,” the judge says. “Right now Ms. Wilder has the floor.”
“Madam Stenographer,” I say, “could you now read from page sixty-two of the transcript, lines twelve through fifteen?”
The stenographer obliges.
Witness: Could you repeat the question, please?
Mr. Kostova: You shut up!
“Your Honor,” Kostova says. “This is not—”
“And could you read page seventy-six, line nine?”
Mr. Kostova: I want a ruling from the judge, you idiot!
“Your Honor,” I say, “I understand that Mr. Kostova is frustrated that he is not able to elicit the testimony that he wants from my witness. But that’s no justification for this sort of behavior. As Mr. Kostova knows, this is my first time defending a deposition. I can’t help but think he’s taking unfair advantage of my inexperience.”
There is a long pause. Kostova is purple with outrage. “Mr. Kostova,” the judge says at last, “why didn’t you agree to postpone the deposition?”
“Your Honor, I was already en route to the Keys when counsel for the defendant called and demanded that the deposition be delayed. To be frank, given the explosive nature of some of the documents pertaining to this witness, I suspected that they were using the weather as a pretext.”
“A pretext?” the judge says incredulously. “Have you been watching the news, Counselor? They’re calling this the storm of the century. It’s stretching from Boston down to the Carolinas. The Weather Channel has even named the darned thing. What are they calling it?” We hear some whispering on the other end. “Pluto!” the judge cries. “They’re calling it Pluto! The ninth planet! Ruler of the underworld, Mr. Kostova. This snow is serious business!”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Kostova says uncertainly.
“You couldn’t accommodate a reasonable request to delay the deposition?” The judge is getting worked up now. “Instead, you decide to come running to me, late on a Friday, with a bunch of complaints about a junior associate who’s supposedly making your life difficult?”
Kostova protests. “Your Honor, Ms. Wilder is deliberately interfering with my ability to question this witness. Her citations to the record completely fail to provide the context for what has happened here today.”
“Do you have anything specific that you wish to cite in support of your contention that it is Ms. Wilder, and not you, who has behaved with an extreme disregard for decorum and professional courtesy, both before and during this deposition?”
I smile at Kostova. Go ahead, I think. Tell him I made faces at you and gave you paper animals. Tell him that you let a lady lawyer rattle you, and that you lost your temper. Let’s see how well that goes over.
Kostova doesn’t have time to go through the transcript and look for examples. The judge is waiting.
“She hummed, Your Honor,” Kostova says at last. “And there was a … she made a swan—”
“Am I to understand, Mr. Kostova, that you are seeking my intervention in a deposition because opposing counsel was humming?”
“Your Honor,” he says, “if you will give me a moment, I will try to find some examples of her distracting behavior, and the long speeches that she has made, but—”
“Speeches, Mr. Kostova?” The judge chuckles. “My, my. If I were to sanction every attorney who made speeches on the record, the whole lot of you would be in jail.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Kostova says.
“Probably not a bad idea,” the judge adds. “Now, give me a moment.”
Silence.
I close my eyes and pray.
“I’m adjourning this deposition,” he says.
“I’ll be damned,” Gran mutters.
“You should have agreed to the postponement, Mr. Kostova,” the judge continues. “It would have been the professional thing to do.”
“But Your Honor,” Kostova protests, “we’ve already started, and—”
“I’m not going to get drawn into some he-said-she-said here,” the judge continues. “It sounds to me as though everybody needs to cool off. I suggest that you sort out your procedural issue and reschedule the deposition for a few weeks from now. I have no doubt that EnerGreen’s counsel will be both accommodating and professional. Isn’t that right, Ms. Wilder?”
“Absolutely, Your Honor.” I smile broadly at Kostova.
“Your Honor,” he says, “I would ask—”
“Save it, Counselor. I’ve made my ruling. Have a good weekend, everyone,” the judge says, and hangs up.
The stenographer’s fingers are hovering over her machine. “Are we done?” she asks.
“We’re done,” I say, not quite believing it myself. She types in a few final lines and begins packing up her things. The videographer is already wrapping up his cables. I unclip my microphone.
Kostova is staring at me with murder in his eyes.
“You said you wanted a ruling,” I say innocently.
“If he knew half of what went on here,” he says.
Gran says, “If you want something to appear in the record, you need to make sure it shows up on the transcript.”
“I’m going to get the video of this deposition in front of the judge immediately,” Kostova tells me. “I’m going to seek sanctions against your firm and against you personally. You’re in for a world of trouble, young—”
He stops himself. I smile at him. “Say it again. Wait until you see what I’ve got for an encore.”
He throws his papers into his briefcase and storms out.
“Is it really over?” Pete asks.
“For now,” I say. “But don’t get too comfortable.”
“I sure won’t.”
“You should think about updating your résumé.”
“I sure will.”
“You might want to hire your own lawyer.”
“Can I hire you?” he asks hopefully.
“Hell no! But you can hire her.” I point at Gran.
She looks up from her handbag. “What?”
“Give the man your contact information, Izzie. You’re back in business.”
Pete takes her number and says good-bye and scurries out the door. Gran and I turn to each other.
“Lillian Grace Wilder,” she says slowly. “That was reckless, dangerous and almost entirely unethical.”
I sigh. “I know, Gran. I know.”
She hugs me hard. “I haven’t had that much fun in years!”
I open my laptop and call Urs on Skype. Soon his round face, framed by severely parted coal-black hair, is peering back at me through the screen. As quickly as possible, I tell him everything. Pete’s e-mails. The truth about the fraud. Urs’s pale face gets paler. I go step by step through the deposition, concluding with the call to the judge. His wide eyes get wider. When I’m finished, he gawps at me for a long time.
Gran taps the screen. “Is it frozen?”
“This fraud,” Urs says slowly, in his precise, accented voice. “This fraud is … how big is this fraud?”
“Fifteen billion dollars,” I say.
Urs seems to wobble, but it could be the Wi-Fi in the conference room. “This witness, Hoffman,” he says. “He is prepared to testify about it?”
“He’s too dumb to be stopped.”
Urs begins, quietly, to hyperventilate. Then he drops off the screen. Gran and I exchange a glance. I hope I’m not causing cardiac arrest in yet another lawyer.
In a moment, Urs reappears, smoothing his hair back into place with one hand. “Now, you say you paused this deposition, and you made an argument to the judge, and with this argument you provided citations to the transcript that were … how would you characterize them? Somewhat misleading? Very misle
ading?”
“Misleading-ish?” I suggest.
He gazes at me hopelessly. “This is normal litigation practice in America?”
“Normal or not, she saved your ass!” Gran cries, getting all up in the screen so that the only thing visible is her scary old-lady eyeball.
Urs rears back. “Lily? Who is this fearsome person?”
“My grandmother,” I say. “And your local counsel.”
Urs clutches his head. “I am very confused.”
“Listen, Urs. Here’s the point. What I did worked—for now. But as soon as the plaintiffs get the video of this deposition, they’re going to file a motion that will show the judge how I misled him. Our credibility will be shot, we’ll be heavily sanctioned and the judge will order the deposition to resume. EnerGreen has to accept the current settlement proposal. Immediately.”
“As you know, I have little influence over my superiors. I cannot guarantee that they will listen.”
“You have to make them listen, Urs. I just put myself on the line for a bunch of crooks, and they have to make it right—for the plaintiffs and for me. Tell them that if they don’t settle right away, I’m going to resign and tell the court everything I know. And I know a lot.”
Urs nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, that should persuade them.”
“They also have to fix their accounting problems, or I’m going straight to the DOJ.”
“Very well,” he says. “All will be relayed.”
“I think that’s it. Any questions?”
Urs shakes his head. “This has been a distressing call for me. But thank you, Lily and Lily’s grandmother. You have done excellent work. I will praise you to Philip when he recovers.”
The screen goes dark. Urs is gone.
We pack up and get ready to go. Gran hands me my phone. I have eighteen texts.
Philip: I’m troubled that I haven’t heard from you, Wilder.
Mattie: Is ths another one of your jokes???
Will: Please don’t go silent like this.
Mattie: I’ve wokred very hard to make this weddign perfect and thsi is what I get in return?
Ana: Where are you, Lilybear?
Mattie: How could I expect you to taek it seriously, though? You haven’t taken anything seriously this week. Its been all f this and f that.
Mattie: I’m so tired of it!!!
Philip: I emailed Raney Moore. She tells me she’s in Knoxville, not Key West. What is going on?
Freddy: yr wedding planner might kill me
313131: Your appt with Dr. Gibbons is scheduled for 03/02/14 at 10:00 AM Reply Y to Confirm, N to Cancel
Mattie: I have news for you younge lady. When you have to keep saying no offense to someone, youre probably offending them!
Jane: We all feel terrible, darling. Please call me.
Pharmacist: whats up girl?
Mattie: I quit!
Philip: Going into surgery now. Please call Betty with any updates.
Will: I guess you’ve made up your mind.
Freddy: pls call i hve no limbz!
Will: I never meant to hurt you.
I drive Gran home and park in front of the house. She turns to me. “I’m proud of you, honey.”
“I just followed your advice and played to my strengths. Acting stupid and enraging people.”
“I’m not proud because you won. I’m proud because you showed up. A lot of people would have abandoned ship. You saw it through to the very end, and you did your best for your client, even though it deserves to rot in hell.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re a damn fine lawyer.”
Nobody’s praise could mean more to me. Jesus, my eyes are welling. “Thank you, Gran.”
“Now,” she continues, “you also made a shitload of mistakes. Let’s start with your manner of addressing the court.”
She proceeds to spend the next forty-five minutes critiquing everything from my voice to my body language to my knowledge of the rules of evidence.
“All in all,” she concludes, “I’d give you a B. Maybe a B-minus, considering the blatant ethical improprieties.”
“Gee, Gran. Thanks for the positive reinforcement.”
She pats my knee. “You’re welcome. Now come inside and I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“God, no!” I say quickly. “I mean, I’m exhausted. I’m going to head back to the hotel and crash.”
She gives me a look full of love and sympathy. “What’s your plan after that?”
“Pack up, I guess. Go back to New York.”
She gathers Rhode Island from the floor of the car. “Will you come by and see me before you leave?”
“Of course.”
She gives me a big hug. “Thanks for the referral, hon. I feel like myself again. Take it from me—retirement’s a bitch.”
She hops out. I pull away, watching her in the rearview as she waves good-bye.
27
I am bone tired. My mind is still whirling from the deposition, not to mention my back-and-forth with Will. His last text was hours ago. I wonder where he is.
I park the car at the hotel and sit there for a long time. If nothing else, the last few hours have been a welcome distraction from the complete fiasco that is my personal life. I’m not angry at Will anymore. Not even irritated. But I can’t think about it anymore. I’ll have plenty of time to sift through the wreckage tomorrow. Maybe Freddy and I can honeymoon together. That would give Will time to pack and move out. We wouldn’t have to see each other again.
I finally get out of the car and head inside. I walk through the doors and stop short. Teddy is sitting on a sofa. He sees me and stands up.
“Hey,” he says. “Can we talk?”
I am so goddamn tired of talking. But he looks anxious, and when he sits back down, gesturing to me to join him, I do.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday afternoon,” he says. “I was a dick to you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I deserved it.”
He reaches out and takes my hand. “You didn’t. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years blaming you for things. Too much time. I thought I’d stopped. I thought I’d accepted what had happened to Lee and to … to us. It was so long ago, and we were so young. But then you came back, and everything got stirred up again. I felt ridiculous for being upset, and that made me even angrier. I took it out on you.” He releases my hand but is still gazing at me intently. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s something you need to know,” I say. “I thought about you constantly. I missed you every single day. I was lost without you, Teddy. But giving you up was my punishment to myself. I thought I deserved it for what I did.”
He nods.
“I didn’t mean to punish you, too,” I add. “I should have told you.”
“It’s okay. It’s all in the past.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“What about the wedding?”
I just shake my head. He looks surprised but says nothing. He feels sorry for me. And I am suddenly struck by how different everything might have been. My life and his. If I hadn’t stolen the dynamite. If we hadn’t built the bomb. If I hadn’t gone to Lee’s house. If I’d written Teddy back, and kept writing and writing and writing.
Would we have calmed down? Would we have straightened out? Could we be sitting together right now, here or in some other place, together in a completely different way?
I stand up at last. So does he. “I’m thirteen years too late,” I say, “but can I write to you now?”
He smiles. “Sure.”
I suddenly feel awkward. Should we hug? Shake hands? Teddy solves the problem, like he always did. He steps forward, leans down and kisses me full on the mouth, gently, sweetly. I put my hands on his shoulders and pull him close. His body feels the same, he tastes the same, his lips move the same way.
One last time I’m fourteen again, and I’m in the only place I ever wanted to be.
It’s magical.
And then it�
��s over.
He steps back and smiles at me. “Good-bye, Lily.”
I raise a hand. “Good-bye, Teddy.”
He turns. He’s walking away, he’s pushing through the door. He’s gone.
I hear the elevator ding. I turn and see Freddy walking unsteadily across the lobby toward the bar. I follow her. She picks a stool and climbs aboard. I take the next one. The bartender comes over.
“Vodka,” Freddy says thickly.
“And?” he asks.
“More vodka.”
I clutch Freddy’s arm. “Oh God. What’s wrong?”
She looks at me all wide-eyed. I’m not sure she recognizes me.
“Little-known fact,” she says, slowly and distinctly. “Little. Known. Fact. It is surprisingly easy to hypnotize a chicken.”
“She’s already three sheets,” the bartender remarks.
Freddy raises a finger. “Step one. You press its little beak to the ground. Step two. You draw an X in the dirt in front of it.” She draws an X on the bar with her finger. “You do that over and over again, and the chicken follows the motion with its beady little bird eyes, until … voilà! You have yourself one goddamned hypnotized chicken.”
The bartender places drinks in front of us. Freddy downs hers in one gulp. Then she takes mine and downs it too.
“I have spent the day,” she announces, way too loudly, “dealing with your wedding planner.”
“Was it bad?”
She waves the question away, but the motion throws her off balance and she starts sliding off her stool. I haul her upright again.
“I found myself facing an improssible choice,” she says. “Either destroy myself with drugs and alcohol or murder the crazy bitch.” She gestures to the bartender for another round. “I chose the latter.”
I Take You Page 28