Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

“The jurors say he mumbled something about his jacket, which was right there in the closet, but they thought he was delirious. Deputy Kim found it after he was in the hospital. His breathing became blocked so quickly he never got to use it.”

“So you don’t plan to check further into what happened.”

“Why would I? It’s unfortunate, but nothing to do with me.”

“No urge to examine your gift horse too closely,” said Paul. “I do see your position.” He hadn’t meant it to sound the way it came out, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nina said, pushing his hand off.

“What’s the matter?” he said putting it back.

She batted it firmly away. “Why can’t you just accept it that I won this case, fair and square? Why can’t you let me have that? You chip away at my success, hinting around that I couldn’t have pulled it off if Clifford Wright hadn’t died. Jesus.”

Paul fell silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I never congratulated you. And you’re so terrific, even out of bed. You’re brilliant, beautiful, brave, bosomy…”

“Thank you,” Nina said.

“Soon to be rich,” he said.

Apparently mollified, she said, “Don’t go tacky on me now.”

“Okay, good. Let’s turn our attention back to that very issue that’s hovering around us like a swarm of starving mosquitoes. We need to talk about how this change in your financial status is going to affect our relationship. There are some things to consider.”

“I thought you were starving,” said Nina.

“Shhh.” Turning over to face her, he put a finger over her lips. “Mail-order catalogs, for starters. You can finally afford a pair of those undies… you know the ones, don’t you? With the missing bits here,” he said, showing her where, “and right here.” His hand lingered. “Let’s splurge. Get two, in black silk and red. Net stockings to match and one of those things women wore back in the good old days when men ruled the universe without challenge…”

“A garter belt?”

“That’s it! Yum. The possibilities rise up like… like-”

“Like wet dough!” she said.

“Like a hunk of burnin’ love,” said Paul, inserting his tongue into her ear.

Before she could say another thing, he jumped her.

Then they went down to the kitchen and made toast and eggs and drank all the milk.

On Saturday they rented separate paddleboats and raced each other around Zephyr Cove until the setting sun blinded them, then returned to Nina’s to change into their fanciest duds for a celebration dinner Lindy was hosting at The Summit.

Nina took Paul’s arm as they arrived at the restaurant on the seventeenth floor of Harrah’s. Piano blues surrounded them, sensual as incense.

“I feel so grown up, suddenly,” she said, enjoying the scratchiness of his jacket and happy he was here to share this night with her. “Do you remember the first time we met at that place in Carmel?” She led the way into the restaurant behind the maitre d’.

“How could I forget? A blind date. And then you went off and married Jack.”

“When did we become the kind of people that go to places like this? Where’s the band with the electrified hair and distortion pedal?”

“It’s perfect, Nina,” Paul said, reaching out to shake Winston’s hand.

They sat down at a window table. Outside, way down, the lights of town twinkled. Lindy had already ordered champagne. Sandy, dressed in a shiny amethyst-colored beaded shirt over a long black skirt, argued with Nina over who could order the salmon with lemon couscous and who got the rack of lamb. They compromised by deciding to share. Next to her, Sandy’s son, Wish, demonstrated how to play spoons to a Scott Joplin tune.

Wearing an emerald-green jacket over white slacks and low heels, Lindy faced the window. Nina knew she had invited her friend Alice to the celebration, but Alice couldn’t make it.

After greeting Nina and Paul, she leaned forward and gazed at the lights beyond the glass, looking a little shell-shocked. “Isn’t it thrilling how it’s all worked out?” she told Nina. “Isn’t it strange?”

Sandy offered up a toast to “The lake of the sky, Tahoe, where anything can happen and does,” and they worked their way through two bottles before eating.

Throughout the meal, Nina couldn’t help noticing things had somehow changed between Winston and Genevieve. Genevieve continued to tune her behavior to his mood, offering him butter, salt, whatever he seemed to need, but he seemed distracted. Nina supposed he, too, was turning his mind to the future, a future where Genevieve would figure less prominently.

“Where will you go, Genevieve?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve got a million ideas! Only you know what? I can hardly think about that right now. I get so worked up during these damn things, I don’t sleep. But I can’t imagine going back to L.A. and starting over again, which is probably exactly what I’ll be doin’.” She looked and sounded tired. Underneath the gaiety, they all must be. They had crammed a couple of years’ worth of work into eight months. And they had won!

They commiserated for a few minutes about the difficult transition to daily routines after the epic intensity of the past months.

“Like my mother used to say,” Paul butted in. “These are good problems to have. What will you be doing next, Lindy?”

She looked startled by the sudden attention. Her plate was still full of food. Apparently, she had preferred the champagne. Her eyes had a glassy sheen. “Oh, I’ll just go about the usual routines of a wealthy woman,” she said. “Teas. Parties. Mansion-shopping.”

“Poor you,” Genevieve said, making light of her mood.

“You mean rich me,” said Lindy, and everyone laughed, including Lindy.

After dinner, Nina asked Winston about his plans.

“I’ve got some paperwork to go through and some expenses to add up for Sandy,” he said, winking at Sandy. “Then I’m planning to take a couple of days before I go back to enjoy this fine spring weather, get some exercise. I feel like I’ve hardly moved for months.”

“Jogging every spare moment doesn’t count, I suppose,” said Sandy.

“Oh, and I brought a few things here. Little thank-yous for all your help.” Winston reached into a bag beside his chair, bringing out a huge package for Sandy, and a tie-sized box for Wish.

“Now don’t look so gloomy,” he said, handing over the box to Wish. “I promise, someday soon, you’ll need a tie.”

“Hey, really, Mr. Reynolds. This is just great.” Wish smiled feebly. He tore off the ribbon and ripped the box opening it. “Silk, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Great.” Wish held the blue tie close to his eyes, as if the details in the pattern might cast light on what had possessed a smart guy like Winston to choose such an outlandish and inappropriate gift.

Winston broke into full-throttle laughter. “Well, glad you like it.”

Sandy opened her much larger package carefully, setting the floral wrap neatly to the side of her place, untying the ribbon, and placing the interior tissue in a tidy stack until Wish looked ready to grab the box from her and tear into it himself.

Inside, nestled like an animal, was something thick and soft.

“What is it, Mom?” asked Wish impatiently. “C’mon, get it out.”

“I looked at a few moth-eaten ones before I found this one. It’s been well-cared-for,” said Winston.

“Where did you find it?” she demanded.

“In a shop in Minden. The proprietor told me the family that owned it sold everything they had and moved to Stockton last month. They told him the man’s great-grandfather made it. This was the last one he made before he died sometime in the fifties, at least that’s what the dealer claimed. They had found it stored very carefully in a cedar-lined trunk. Never used it.”