thinking happily, Bob doesn’t remind me of Richard, not in any way, but by the time she had her clothes off and was sliding into bed, her thoughts had switched to a review of the evening. Yes, she could fit into that world of Club XIX, the drinkers, hopers, losers, aspirers. She would think of them all naked whenever she felt daunted. Remy had been so friendly tonight, closer than her usual cool distance, and especially nice to Jack, who wore a smug look by evening’s end.
Nina really liked Jack but recognized that Jack really liked Remy.
And Paul, well, she suspected she understood him. He was a man on the make, not serious, reeling from some emotional kick, but handsome, single, and maybe even interested, she thought groggily. She pulled the covers tightly around her, curling into a dream where he kissed her, and she loved it, and Richard watched them kissing through a window, menacing, dangerous.
CHAPTER 12
O N O CTOBER 2, T UESDAY, A STRID ESCORTED V IRGINIA Reilly into Remy Sorensen’s office. Remy helped her to sit down in a gray leather armchair, watching the new client trying to get a handle on her by looking at the decor: spare, neat, heavy sets of books carefully organized. No vase of flowers, no photo of the loving hubby and gap-toothed kids chasing the Irish setter across a suburban lawn.
“We don’t read them for fun,” Remy explained, smiling, attempting to ease some of the tension. “I’m sorry I had to miss our appointment. I’ve freed all the time we need this morning.”
“I thought about this for a long time before I decided I just had to come here.”
“You don’t want Nina to join us?”
“No.”
“I’m sure she’d like to be here…” Remy gestured toward the phone.
“She’s got more to face than I do in the long run. I’m not going to be around very much longer. I remember how much I mourned my mother.” Mrs. Reilly’s lips tightened. “The thought of my kids having to suffer makes me so upset—”
“You’re sure?” Remy said as gently as she could.
Mrs. Reilly nodded her head. Several minutes passed in chitchat. Remy looked her over—graying brown hair cut neatly over a ravaged face that seemed oddest when she tried to smile—hard to look at—frozen like a bad face-lift. Here sat a very sick lady, judging from that and the painful way she moved. And one arm, her left—Remy looked away, not wanting to stare. Nina had already told her some of the story.
Might be some good money for the firm here.
“Mrs. Reilly, Nina told me a little about your circumstances. How can I help you?”
“Call me Ginny. My nickname has such a youthful air, even if I don’t anymore.” A deep breath, a few blinks, and Ginny said, “My husband left me for a much younger woman. We’re divorced now and he pays me support, but I know he’s going to ask the court to reexamine it.
“But that’s not why I came today. Not that I forgive my cheating erstwhile life companion. I just got to thinking, if I die soon, I can’t leave my children with nothing.” Ginny stopped, smoothing her hair with her remaining, shaky hand. “You see how hard Nina works. Our son, Matt—he’s got problems and his father’s attention will naturally lie with his new family, even though Matt needs him very much. My kids need me. When I’m gone, money will help, although neither one of them would admit to giving a damn about it.”
“You use a cane,” Remy prodded gently. “Is that connected somehow with your injury?” In her mind, she added, what price could you put on a hand?
Answer: a lot, when it came to the law.
“I’ve been diagnosed for a year or so, although I was sick before that and didn’t know. I didn’t see a doctor until some time after Harlan—we separated.”
Remy jotted everything down in her neat notebook. She knew Lindberg as a competent physician and an occasional expert witness for the plaintiff in insurance cases. He was a good man, on the right side. But even good
Nina really liked Jack but recognized that Jack really liked Remy.
And Paul, well, she suspected she understood him. He was a man on the make, not serious, reeling from some emotional kick, but handsome, single, and maybe even interested, she thought groggily. She pulled the covers tightly around her, curling into a dream where he kissed her, and she loved it, and Richard watched them kissing through a window, menacing, dangerous.
CHAPTER 12
O N O CTOBER 2, T UESDAY, A STRID ESCORTED V IRGINIA Reilly into Remy Sorensen’s office. Remy helped her to sit down in a gray leather armchair, watching the new client trying to get a handle on her by looking at the decor: spare, neat, heavy sets of books carefully organized. No vase of flowers, no photo of the loving hubby and gap-toothed kids chasing the Irish setter across a suburban lawn.
“We don’t read them for fun,” Remy explained, smiling, attempting to ease some of the tension. “I’m sorry I had to miss our appointment. I’ve freed all the time we need this morning.”
“I thought about this for a long time before I decided I just had to come here.”
“You don’t want Nina to join us?”
“No.”
“I’m sure she’d like to be here…” Remy gestured toward the phone.
“She’s got more to face than I do in the long run. I’m not going to be around very much longer. I remember how much I mourned my mother.” Mrs. Reilly’s lips tightened. “The thought of my kids having to suffer makes me so upset—”
“You’re sure?” Remy said as gently as she could.
Mrs. Reilly nodded her head. Several minutes passed in chitchat. Remy looked her over—graying brown hair cut neatly over a ravaged face that seemed oddest when she tried to smile—hard to look at—frozen like a bad face-lift. Here sat a very sick lady, judging from that and the painful way she moved. And one arm, her left—Remy looked away, not wanting to stare. Nina had already told her some of the story.
Might be some good money for the firm here.
“Mrs. Reilly, Nina told me a little about your circumstances. How can I help you?”
“Call me Ginny. My nickname has such a youthful air, even if I don’t anymore.” A deep breath, a few blinks, and Ginny said, “My husband left me for a much younger woman. We’re divorced now and he pays me support, but I know he’s going to ask the court to reexamine it.
“But that’s not why I came today. Not that I forgive my cheating erstwhile life companion. I just got to thinking, if I die soon, I can’t leave my children with nothing.” Ginny stopped, smoothing her hair with her remaining, shaky hand. “You see how hard Nina works. Our son, Matt—he’s got problems and his father’s attention will naturally lie with his new family, even though Matt needs him very much. My kids need me. When I’m gone, money will help, although neither one of them would admit to giving a damn about it.”
“You use a cane,” Remy prodded gently. “Is that connected somehow with your injury?” In her mind, she added, what price could you put on a hand?
Answer: a lot, when it came to the law.
“I’ve been diagnosed for a year or so, although I was sick before that and didn’t know. I didn’t see a doctor until some time after Harlan—we separated.”
Remy jotted everything down in her neat notebook. She knew Lindberg as a competent physician and an occasional expert witness for the plaintiff in insurance cases. He was a good man, on the right side. But even good
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