deduced that her father was trying to mate her with somebody's large fortune, and that put her in a cranky, rebellious mood. The day I worked up the nerve to ask her to go see a movie, she saw the perfect candidate for the perfect plot. In a nutshell, she'd lure me home to meet Daddy Warbucks, and since I wasn't exactly what Papa had in mind, a deal would be struck--the spoiled rich kids and I would mutually disappear.
Her side of the story has going for it that it bears an almost uncanny resemblance to the facts. Homer barely glanced at me before he yanked her comely tush into his study, and the sounds of their yapping and thrashing echoed all over the house. And if you think that's not a crappy feeling, try having it happen to you.
Anyway, now as I stood in her doorway, her arms flew around my neck and she planted a kiss on my cheek. I hugged her, too, and then we stepped back and examined each other, as ex-lovers are wont to do. She smiled and said, "Sean Drummond, I'm so damn glad to see you. How are you?"
"Uh, fine, yeah, hi, gee, crappy way to meet, how are you, you look great."
Am I cool or what?
That smile--I'd forgotten how unnerving it was. Most beautiful women, the best they can do is this flinching motion of a few stingy muscles that comes across more like a favor than a feeling. Mary's smile swallows you whole.
Besides, she did look great. Her face was slightly leaner, and there were a few tiny wrinkles, but the effect was to enhance her beauty--as the poetically inclined might say, sprinkling dew on a rose petal.
She wrapped both her arms tightly around my arm and tugged. "Come on." She giggled. "I swear it's safe. My father promised to leave us alone."
"Gee, I don't know." I peeked inside. "I don't trust the old fart."
Mary giggled some more. "He has a dartboard upstairs with your face on it. He's probably up there right now."
This was a joke, right? She led me to the rear of the big house, to a cavernous sunroom built off a living room the size of a football stadium. The house was filled with ancient-looking oriental carpets, and cracked, antique-looking paintings, and leather furniture with brass studs, and all the other ostentatious furnishings meant to remind visitors of the life they can't afford.
She sat on a flower-patterned couch and I took a place across from her. The moment instantly got landlocked in the past. Twelve years is a long time, and a million questions were swirling in my mind. Unfortunately, the one that kept kicking to the surface was, Hey, why'd you marry that lousy prick when you could've had me?
Given the circumstances and all, perhaps it would be best to avoid that one. I finally announced, "I saw him this morning."
"How is he?"
"Not well. On suicide watch."
She shook her head. "Poor Bill. They called him into the office on some pretense, then he was in handcuffs being dragged out of the embassy. They deliberately humiliated him. Those bastards even invited CNN to be there."
I tried to appear sympathetic, but to be honest, I had enjoyed watching the arrest. Of course, this was before he became my client, and now I was deeply ashamed of myself. Right. Anyway, I said, "Well, he signed the request and my boss just approved it."
She tried to muster a warm smile as she said, "Thank you. I mean it. I know it's awkward. I just . . ." And suddenly that smile crumbled, and she was biting her lip.
I put a hand on her leg. "Forget it."
She laid her hand on top of mine. "We shouldn't have asked," she finally said. "What a stupid predicament."
I chuckled. "Don't worry about it."
"Sean, I have no right to put you in this position. I'm desperate . . . I have two young children and a husband accused of treason. Bill insisted on you, but I--"
"Look," I interrupted, "if you're concerned about my feelings, don't be. Lawyers have no emotions."
"Liar."
"Liar, huh? At Georgetown Law, they caught a girl crying one day . . . She'd just learned her mother died. They threw her out on her butt. There was a big ceremony in the auditorium and they said she just couldn't cut it."
She was shaking her head and laughing. "Oh, come on."
"We're the ones in movie theaters who get dreamy-eyed when theTitanic goes down, counting