Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unfit to Practice

“That’s a good point,” Nina said.

“And I didn’t even mention the xenophobia. These people are as ingrown as my right big toenail. You sound like an outsider, you can’t help it, you don’t know the right approach, the lingo. The judge’s nose twitches, you give him a headache with your foreign ways. You need me.”

“What would you charge, Jack?” Nina said.

“Half price. One fifty an hour.”

“I do want the benefit of your counsel even if this goes nowhere, Jack. But it has to be at your regular rate.”

“I’m trying here,” Jack said. “Will you please let me make nice? For old times’ sake.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Paul said.

“I’m on to you, too,” Jack said. “Who’s jealous now?”

Paul held Nina’s shoulder in a death grip and scowled at Jack. Jack leaned across the table, practically snarling back. Nina nestled into Paul’s arm, furtively enjoying the posturing of these two rival males. The primitive female in her felt hugely gratified.

But back to business. They were all professionals. This hormonal dustup would settle down fast.

She reached her hand out and shook with Jack. She had a lawyer, even if everything he had told her so far discouraged her.

They moved on to topics that didn’t piss anyone off, heinous murders, extortions, securities fraud. Paul gave them the rundown on his latest conquest, locating an in-house theft ring at a local restaurant that included a stockpiled warehouse of fine wines and frozen gourmet pizzas.

Six o’clock came and went, and the waiters went around lighting the candles. Beyond the redwood railing the faraway cliffs softened as evening fog rolled in here and there. Suddenly feeling anxious, Nina thought about the long drive home, Bob waiting to be picked up, the dog at Matt’s, grocery shopping to do before starting her week. “I have to hit the road, gents,” Nina said, rising. Both men stood up, too.

They drove back to Carmel, Paul in the backseat again, Jack holding forth in the driver’s seat. The waves below reflected the gold of the setting sun and Nina lowered the sun visor in a useless effort to stave off its assault on her eyes. She wouldn’t be home until ten and she would be tired, but she felt better. She knew there were others supporting her. Like a general, without precisely realizing it, she had spent the weekend mobilizing that support.

This time she accepted a hug from Jack in the driveway, feeling some of the tension ooze away as she hugged him, but pulling away quickly.

“It’s been so wonderful to see you, Nina. You’re more beautiful than ever,” Jack said.

“Give it a rest,” Paul said. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, Nina. Call me.”

“Better yet, call me,” Jack said. “Or I’ll call you. See how it’s going with the clients.”

Her kiss good-bye to Paul was perfunctory because she didn’t want to precipitate any more dissension in the ranks. She left the two men standing side by side, her soldiers preparing for war, she hoped not against each other.

The mail came late, at four in the afternoon. Nina had just grabbed her purse and was running out the door to pick up Bobby at Tiny Tots when Anne, the lead secretary at Klaus Pohlmann’s law firm, rushed down the hall toward her.

“From the state bar,” she said, handing Nina the white envelope.

Her bar-exam results. Only half the law-school graduates passed on their first try.

Nina returned to her cubbyhole law-clerk’s office, shut the door firmly, and leaned against it. She had taken the bar over a grueling two-day period in July and now, five months later, Santa and his reindeer decorated her window. Outside, the dark had begun to crawl over the cottages, shops, and shiny cars, bringing on the twinkling Christmas lights of Carmel.

During that long wait for the results, as she toiled through her daily life, she had thought so many times: Will I make it? She had never felt sure that the years of work would pay off. She never had enough time for the homework, and she had sometimes fallen asleep during the endless night classes. The devilishly difficult bar exam had seemed like a plot to keep out as many people as possible. She sat down in her worn chair, taking the load off her weak knees, swiveled back and forth, and stared at the envelope.

“The time has come,” she thought, “to believe impossible things.” She tore the thing open.

“… pleased to announce… welcome you to the bar… ceremony in San Francisco…”

“I passed! I passed!” She emerged into the hall again, where Anne waited inches from her door and threw her arms around her.

“Good work!” Anne said. Nina ran down the hall to Klaus’s office. The old man had heard the commotion and was already hobbling toward her across his fine Isfahan rug, his face wreathed in smiles. He held her tight, his slight bony body seeming to send waves of strength through her.

“Congratulations, Counselor,” he said, and hearing this word, which meant everything to her, Nina realized it was true at last. She was a lawyer.

Handing her a handkerchief, Klaus sat her down on his leather couch. From his desk drawer he produced a big bottle of scotch and a tray full of etched shot glasses. The rest of the lawyers and staff of the small firm had streamed into the room, beaming, nobody talking yet while Klaus poured the shots with a hand that trembled only slightly.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he said quietly. “To our new member of the bar, who I know will bring honor to our difficult and rewarding profession.”

Then they were drinking to her and clapping her on the back and hugging her.

When everyone else had left and only Nina and Klaus remained, she asked, “Klaus?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you think-that is, can I-”

“Of course you can. You may turn out better than any of us. Perhaps because you have had the hardest struggle, working, studying, raising your little boy the whole time.”

“I’ll never let you down. I promise,” Nina said. “You gave me my job and helped me all the way. I’ll always look up to you as my example.”

“Don’t think about me,” Klaus said. “I am the past and you are the future. Just try to relieve a little of the suffering in this world with your skills. I know you’ll never disgrace us. Now, go get your little boy and go home.”

“I’m so happy. But also afraid.”

“You can handle it.”

Before she left, she bent over and kissed his withered cheek.

“I’ll make you proud of me,” she said.

O N HER WAY OUT of Tahoe again on Monday morning in the white subcompact the insurance company had laid on her, Nina drove past the lot on Highway 50 where the Vangs’ Blue Star Market had once conducted business: ragged wooden fencing, a chipped construction sign, and disturbed dirt had reclaimed their space, as though the dreams of the Vang family had never existed. On both sides of this neat emptiness, small businesses-a hair salon, a video store-carried on as though arson and death didn’t exist and the world remained a just and benign place.

She had an appointment to meet Dr. Mai at the Strawberry Lodge, a half hour from Tahoe on the highway to San Francisco, a meeting place that would preclude the worst part of his drive. The Vangs wouldn’t be there, he had explained on the phone when she called him at his home in Fresno on Sunday night. She became insistent. He became gruff. No Vangs. He would drive up to meet her alone. She would have to take what she could get on this Monday morning: the Vangs’ elderly adviser.