Guilt

Alas, never to return.

'Joe, you may have heard rumors to the effect that the firm has been considering expanding into new market areas. Well, we're all gathered here now to put an end to those rumors. They're absolutely… true.'

A polite ripple of masculine chuckle.

Joe Avery smiled nervously from his end of the conference table. Several of the other men looked his way, nodding and smiling. Dooher continued, 'We've reached the decision that the first satellite office should be in Los Angeles. As you know, we do a lot of business down there – many of the cases you've been working on, as a matter of fact. We've all been impressed with the hours and effort you've put in over the years here, and we'd like to reward you now by asking you to put in some more.'

Another round of club laughter.

'But seriously, and before we get down to the nitty-gritty of what we're expecting down in LA, all of us wanted to take a minute and say congratulations. And, I should add – I'm afraid I've hinted at this to you before' – here Dooher included most of the partners around the table in a conspiratorial wink – 'we kind of rushed your partnership through committee a little earlier than you might have expected.

'We'd like you to take the helm down in Los Angeles, Joe, open the office, get us up and running and put us on the map down there.' Again, an inclusive gesture around the room. 'Gentlemen. I've seen the future of McCabe & Roth and its name is Joe Avery. Congratulations, Joe.'

Heartfelt applause. Joe Avery stood, beaming and basking in his colleagues' approval. And Dooher knew that even if it meant losing Christina, the fool wouldn't let this job get away.

CHAPTER TEN

On the next Thursday night, Dooher suddenly stopped his reading in the library on the lower floor of the turret. His eyes raked the shelves quickly, all of his senses alert with an overwhelming prescience. Something was going to happen – he could feel it!

The telephone rang. He knew who it was and he trusted these things implicitly. Besides, the timing was about right – four days since Avery had been promoted. He picked it up on the first ring, resisting the urge to answer with her name.

Instead, he was as he always was. 'Mark Dooher here,' he said. The library doubled as his private office, with a personal phone that he answered in business tones.

A longish pause, then: 'Mark, hi.' Another breath. 'It's Christina Carrera. I'm sorry to bother you at home.'

'Christina!' Heartfelt surprise and enthusiasm. 'It's no bother. I wouldn't have given you my home number if I was going to get mad at you for using it.' Dooher carried the portable phone across the room and quietly pushed the door closed. It was a little after 9:00 p.m. and Sheila was watching television in the kitchen, doing the dinner dishes. The closed door was a signal that he was working – she wouldn't disturb him. 'To what do I owe this pleasure? What can I do for you?'

'I don't know, maybe nothing. I feel very awkward about calling you… but then again I've been awkward about everything lately.'

As he listened, Dooher re-crossed the room, went to his bar and poured a couple of fingers of bourbon, neat, into a brandy snifter. He was nodding, fully engaged.

'… but I didn't know who else I could talk to. I think I need some advice.'

'Advice is my business and my rates are reasonable – well, not completely reasonable. No one would respect me if they were.'

He could almost see the relief in her face, her smile. Their banter – Mark's light touch – put her at ease. He was her friend and she was glad he was here for her. He heard it in her voice. 'Okay,' she said, 'I'll pay.'

'Good. Lunch on you.' Then, more seriously: 'What's the problem, Christina? The job again?'

This time, the silence continued for several seconds. He waited. 'Really it's not so much the job. It's more personal.'

'You're not in legal trouble, are you?'

'No! Nothing like that.'

'But personal?'

'Joe,' shejsaid simply. 'I just don't know what to do.'

He sipped his drink, still standing by the wet bar. 'We can talk, Christina, but if it's Joe, maybe this would be better discussed with him.'

'That's what I'm trying to avoid. I don't want to always be so negative with him. Not when he's so happy with everything.'

'It's the transfer, I presume?'

A bitter laugh. 'I almost want to blame you.'

'For promoting Joe?'

'I know. It's stupid.'

'No, not that. But this move has been in the works a long time. Certainly before I ever met you.' This was not strictly true. The decision to open an LA office had been considered months before, but Dooher's decisions to go ahead with it and then to appoint Avery was finalized over the last six weeks or so. In administrative matters, Dooher rode roughshod over his nominal partners – he ran his firm his way. It was making money and if the partners didn't like his decisions, one of them could try to do what he did – but without him. He and his business would go elsewhere.

'I know. I know that.' She sighed. 'God, I'm such a bitch.'

'I haven't really noticed that. Are you being hard on Joe?'

'Not yet. I think that's why I needed to call you.'

'For my permission for you to be hard on your boyfriend? I don't think so.' He couldn't bring himself to call Avery her fiance. Also, he wanted to deliver the subliminal message – boyfriends were temporary and insubstantial.

'I don't want to be a nag all the time. That's just it. I'm not an unhappy person. Don't laugh. I'm really not.'

'I'm not laughing.'

'But now, I can't seem to accept… if I talk to Joe, everything I say lately comes out like I'm not being supportive of his career. I probably shouldn't even be talking to you.'

'You can stop saying that, Christina. I'm glad you called. I'm just not sure what I can do. The decision's already been made.' The drink was kicking in – he eased himself down onto a barstool, relaxing.

'I guess I'm not asking you as the managing partner, Mark. And I don't know if I'm presuming. But you've been… I feel like you' ve been a friend, is that all right? And I need to have a friend who can talk about this, who can understand both sides.'

'All right, then I'll take off my managing partner's hat.' He lowered his voice. 'I'm touched that you thought of me. And I really don't know if I can be of any help, but I'm listening.'

The good husband, Dooher was finishing a second drink at the table in the kitchen nook, confiding to his wife about the call. 'So the poor kid's in a bind. What's she going to do?'

Sheila was drinking her de-caf. 'This is the really stunning girl from the party, isn't it? Christina?'

'That was her.'

'And she called you?'

He pointed a finger, broke a sardonic grin. 'Actually, the truth is she wanted me to leave you for her. Said she couldn't live another moment without me and I can't say I blame her. But I had to tell her I was taken.' He reached across the table and took his wife's hand. 'Happily.'

'Are you?'

A reassuring squeeze, eye contact. 'Completely, Sheila. What kind of question is that? You know that.'

'I know, but lately…'

'Lately we haven't exactly been flying. Okay. We've pulled out of dives before. We're going to do it again.' He shrugged. 'Of course, she was devastated, but she's young. She'll get over it. Probably.'

Sheila was shaking her head.'To think that someone who looks like she does could have problems…'

'People have problems, She. You did – we did – especially when we were young, trying to figure everything out.'

'But I never looked like her.'

'Not like, but every bit as good.'

His wife beamed and covered his hand with both of hers. 'You've got a half-hour to cut this flattery out. I mean it.' She let go of his hand, picked up her cup and sipped. 'Aren't you glad we're not starting out now, you and I? I don't know how these kids do it. I mean, in our day, if you'd been transferred I'd have gone with you, no questions asked. In fact, I did go. Berkeley, then waited through Vietnam, then LA, then back here.'