Suspicion of Betrayal by Barbara Parker Page B

o'clock in the morning; then we drove to a hotel on Miami Beach."
    With a giggle Miriam covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, Danny was so tired he fell asleep! We didn't. . . you know, make love till morning, but the sun was coming up over the ocean, and we heard the waves and the seagulls."
    "It sounds perfect," Gail said.
    "It was. You know we conceived Berto on our honeymoon? It was a total surprise. Danny says he wants to take me to Hawaii, we might have twins!" Miriam picked up the order that she had complained about earlier. "Well, I'd better redo this before the courier gets here." Hair bouncing on her back, Miriam vanished into the hall, her high heels clicking on the tiles, then diminishing.
    Smiling, Gail watched her go. Miriam and Danny were blessed—unlike Wendell and Jamie Sweet, whose marriage had been cursed from the beginning. Since the failure of her own marriage, Gail had decided that there was nothing she could have done to save it, because the passion hadn't been there. They had not been lovers but two people occupying the same house. With Anthony . . . Gail closed her eyes and rested her chin on her fist. With Anthony no escape was possible. To leave him . . . She could not imagine it. Or that he would leave her. Never. She remembered his words, spoken with such infuriating assurance as he sat on the edge of the bed in the room at his grandfather's house. I would find some way to make you stay. Looking up at her with those dark eyes. She had laughed, but if he had reached for her, she would have made love to him all over again.
    With a start, Gail noticed the clock. Three-thirty already, the afternoon almost gone.
    Next. Letters from attorneys who had read the ad in the Business Review about the spare office. One was from a recent graduate studying for the bar, who wanted to work as a law clerk. Another from a man in his sixties who wanted to practice part-time. Most were articulate, with substantial resumesattached. And all—every one—were from lawyers who wanted to be hired. Paid. Put on salary. The ad had clearly said, Office space to share. Desperation in the ranks, too many lawyers. Gail was grateful for her contacts. If her office went under, she could get a job. But it would be a job, not a business. It wouldn't be hers.
    On the computer she quickly typed a form letter thanking the lawyers for their interest, etc., etc., with instructions for Miriam to customize it for each. The intercom signaled a call, and Gail picked it up without moving her eyes from the screen.
    "Yes?"
    Lynn told her that Mrs. Sweet was calling again.
    If Gail had imagined that Jamie would listen to her advice when their last conversation ended, that mistake became quickly evident. Between sobs, Jamie told her that Wendell had just left. They'd gone upstairs to talk, hoping to settle things between them. Instead they had argued. He had said they wouldn't be going through this if Jamie hadn't been brainwashed by her lawyer. He had screamed at her for taking his children away, trying to ruin his life, stealing his money like the common slut she had been when he met her. She had screamed back at him to get out, and he had hit her.
    "Oh, God. Jamie, are you all right?"
    "My lip's busted, but it was my fault. I was yellin' at him, callin' him names."
    "This isn't your fault! I want you to call the police. We're taking this to the judge."
    "No, Gail! Please don't." "Jamie—"
    "I can't—I can't do this anymore. If it wasn't for the kids, I'd kill myself, I swear I would." "Jamie, please—"
    "Could you—Gail, I don't mean to be a bother— could you please come talk to me? Please." She sobbed. "I don't know what to do."
    "Of course. Of course I will."
    Gail scanned her desk, calculating what she could leave, what had to be taken with her. She flipped through her appointment book. A client was coming in. He could be rescheduled. As she stuffed files into her briefcase, followed by her laptop computer, she