Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

He didn’t say “again,” although they both thought it. He knew how to play her already, didn’t he?

“Why not talk to her?” he went on.

“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe we can limit her involvement…”

“Bold strokes,” Winston said. “No limits. This case is too big. We go for broke, with Genevieve, with everything. Because that’s what real winners do. You know I’m right.”

He was right, but the “go for broke” line had chimed louder than everything else he’d said, and continued to ring in her ears. Her dad used to say that all the time, and one day he had woken up flat broke.

“I’ll call your office and arrange a meeting right away,” he said, then ordered another bottle of wine. He talked about his background, his football scholarship to UCLA, the shock of his teachers and coaches when he walked away from it and immersed himself in academics, his law school studies at Yale, the two ex-wives and the three children he supported. He was full of himself, but maybe he had a right to be. She couldn’t help liking him.

The coffee came, and the frightful check. Her watch said eleven o’clock. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got a plane waiting. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She paused, then said, “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Win.” She stuck out her hand.

“Cinderella,” he said, taking her hand between both of his, “better find both dancing slippers, fast. We’ve got a long way to go if we’re gonna avoid getting stuck with a pumpkin.”

The next morning, Nina called Sandy to tell her she might not get into the office until after lunch. Sandy said that Genevieve Suchat, the jury consultant, was due in the afternoon. Apparently determined to convince Nina to hire her, Winston had made the arrangements with impressive efficiency.

After taking two white pills to quiet the pounding in her head, she drove straight to the Markov house on Cascade Road. Rain slammed the road outside and her wipers slapped a quick, useless path through the river flowing down her windshield. An unexpected skid around a hairpin curve forced her to slow as she wound along a dirt road that hugged the lake’s edge.

Iron gates with gilt-tipped arrows on top stood open, and behind them a massive stone mansion met her eyes, turreted like a castle, surrounded by grounds so well-groomed the plants looked manufactured.

She pulled into a spot close to the house, awed at the ostentation and thinking how very, very much money it would take to build such a thing in California, on the shore of the state’s most desirable lake.

No umbrella presented itself in the box of emergency items on the floor of the littered backseat, so she rushed to the front door and rang the bell, narrowly avoiding a fatal slip off of the slick doorstep. In the relentless rain, the gigantic house loomed over her like a pile of boulders ready at any moment to give way in a landslide. Even the lake, merging its gray into the sky, had a leaden pull to it, as if the heavy gray water exerted more gravity than the rest of the earth.

Lindy answered, looking gaunt in a loose-fitting kimono over a black bodysuit. In spite of her impeccable hair and makeup, Nina could detect signs of the recent travails in her face.

“Thanks for coming,” Lindy said. “Let me take your jacket. You can leave the boots there.” She pointed to a stone bench under which resided the cleanest-looking shoes Nina had ever seen outside of a store display. Next to the bench were a dozen stacked cardboard boxes.

Lindy led Nina down a hallway, past two octagonal foyers, and through an oak-floored room as big as a ballroom. Above them, fighting to conquer the dismal day, crystal chandeliers lighted the way, swaying slightly in an invisible breeze.

They walked on. With blackened slate over many of the passageway floors, stone walls and rain pouring down the windows, the most brilliant lighting could not entirely exorcise a Gothic creepiness from the house.

In a room with a view of the lake, the sun hidden behind ribbons of clouds, Lindy apologized and asked Nina to wait just a minute.

She left. Nina sat down on a long bench that ran the length of the room, at least a hundred feet long. Some exercise equipment and objects she couldn’t identify filled one small alcove. The rest of the space, mirrored on one side, might function as a dance studio. She and Bob lived in a house that would fit into this one room.

Lindy reappeared. “Sorry. I’ve got our housekeeper, Florencia, helping me with the packing.”

“It is a magnificent house,” Nina said. “I’m sorry about all this, Lindy.”

“You’re not responsible. Blame Rachel. That’s what I do.”

“What’s it like,” Nina asked suddenly. “I mean, to be rich?”

“What a funny question.”

“Forget it. I don’t mean to be rude.”

“No, it’s interesting.” They walked across the room. Lindy stopped when she reached the area full of equipment. “The truth is, maybe because I had so little growing up, I really loved having money. It’s addictive as any drug that gets you high. Money blunts all the rough edges, soothes your soul, makes you feel special and powerful. There is nothing in the world as seductive.

“Have a problem? Throw enough money at it and I promise it will go away. Worried about the environment? Fund a cleanup project. Feeling sad? Plan a fabulous vacation. You feel like you can do anything when you have enough money, and there are so many things I still want to do in my life.”

“You mentioned power.”

“A real high, and easy to buy. People, too.”

They were in an area that held a stationary bike, a treadmill, a stand holding up a set of shiny silver free weights, and a number of odd things Nina had noticed while Lindy was talking. The biggest item was a transparent, cylindrical tank nearly as tall as Nina, full of water as clear and beautiful as a glass of turquoise Caribbean seawater.

“So I want my money,” Lindy said, sticking her hand over the top to wet her fingers. She took them out, looking satisfied. “And most of the time, I believe I deserve it, too.”

“You worked hard for it, Lindy.”

“Mike won’t see that. Plenty of other people won’t either. But money is only one reason for suing Mike. The other reason is that this case will make him face me and make him keep his promises to me.”

“No system can force someone who has wronged you to stay with you or love you again,” Nina said. “Money is the only compensation available, the objective standard. Your loss has to be quantified somehow. Emotions… they can’t be quantified.”

“I refuse to give it all up on demand. I refuse.”

“Lindy,” Nina said slowly, making ripples in the water with her fingernails. “What you said before… Are you by any chance thinking that you’ve bought me?”

“Of course not, Nina.” Lindy looked hurt. “You know this is about an issue that’s important to women, not just to me. And you’re doing this because you want to help me personally. Those are all the right reasons. And now we’re a team. No, the people you can buy are a whole different type.”

“What type?”

“Money is God to those people.” Drying her hands on a towel, as if physically expressing that she was done with that unpalatable line of thought, she stepped away from the tank. “Forgot to tell you to bring a swimsuit.” She rummaged in a cabinet near the spa.

“Oh, I wanted to mention I’ve hired one of the best palimony attorneys in the state to help me with your case.” Nina described some of Winston’s recent wins to Lindy. “Plus I’m interviewing a potential jury consultant this afternoon.”

“That sounds great. We’re going to win, whatever it takes,” Lindy said. She handed Nina a swimsuit. “This is probably about your size. Hop in the tank.”