Linda Fairstein - Bad blood

I got up from the floor, kissed Nina on the crown of her head, and embraced her.

“It’s only been six months since Val was killed. It’s still way too raw for him. I keep trying to find ways to-you know-ways to get him out of his morose mood, bring him back. It’s like I’ve lost my right arm.”

I started toward my bedroom as Nina corked the bottle.

“I know what you can do to bring him back, Alex. You know it, too, don’t you?”

I waved her off.

“You fly up here with Mike one weekend, to this incredibly romantic setting. A few logs in the fireplace, more of this great wine. You’ll both be better for it. You haven’t forgotten how, have you?”

“I’m cutting you off, Nina,” I said, wagging a finger at her and laughing. “I work with the man. We’re partners on some of the most serious cases in the city, and you know as well as I do that our professional relationship would have to end if-if-”

“If you got smart and took a chance? Worst that happens is that somebody else will work the big trials.”

“I need the judge and jury to speculate about my sexual escapades, too? You’ve met Lem Howell-Mr. Triplicate. That would be a really sweet cross-examination, wouldn’t it?” I paced the floor, doing my best imitation of Howell’s manner and delivery. “‘Isn’t it true, Detective Chapman, that Ms. Cooper asked you-no, ordered you-demanded that you come up with some kind of confession from my client? Isn’t it true that you fabricated this statement in order to get yourself into her arms-into her pants-into her bed?’”

I stopped and shook my head. “I can’t believe I actually worry about how complicated my friendship is with Mike.”

“Bad news and good news.”

“What? That with my track record the romance won’t work, and I’ll also be out of a job for going after it?”

“The bad news is that you’re dead-on about the line of questioning from a good defense attorney,” Nina said. “The good news is that you even think about it.”

“Isn’t rain supposed to mean good luck on your wedding day?”

Nina and I were helping Joan dress, in my bedroom, at six o’clock on Saturday. Our friends were gathering on the wide lawn, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight anywhere in the brilliant blue sky.

“There were a few sprinkles just after midnight,” Nina said. “Make do with that. My hair would be a nightmare if there was even a hint of precipitation.”

“Here you go, Joan. Borrowed and blue in one fell swoop.” I unhooked the sapphire bracelet that Nina’s husband had given her on her tenth anniversary and clasped it on the bride’s wrist. “You look absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.”

“I can barely breathe in this thing,” Joan said, adjusting the strapless ivory dress and looking out the window at the couples ambling toward the tent where the ceremony would be performed. “I should never have had that lobster roll for lunch yesterday. Where’s my Jimmy?”

“He’s right out there, talking to your mother,” Nina said.

“Is he wearing socks?” Joan asked.

“Why…?”

“No cold feet, right?” Joan walked into the bathroom to finish touching up.

“He looks deliriously happy, darling. It’s either the three-hundred-fifty-pound thresher shark the guys caught today or he really does want to get hitched. You ready to make this legal?” I picked up the leatherbound folder that held my remarks. The certificate from the secretary of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts authorizing me to solemnize the marriage was on top.

Nina and I looked each other over, head to toe, as we had done scores of times before we’d set out on the town together.

She put her arms on my shoulders and squared off in front of me. “Are you sure you can do this?” she asked.

When Adam’s car had crashed on the way to the Vineyard, it was Nina who had had to break the news of his death to me. This very hilltop that was supposed to be the site of our own wedding represented for a time my greatest heartbreak. Now it would be invested with new joy.

“Don’t ever forget him, will you?”

“Not a prayer.”

“Then this is the perfect thing to do for Joan and Jim. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re mush under all that tough stuff you put on in court,” Nina said as Joan came back to us for a second look. “Here comes the bride. Okay, you’re ravishing this time. Good-bye, Ms. Stafford, and hello, Mrs. Hageville. See you shortly.”

We could hear the music playing. It was my turn to give the bride a last prenuptial hug and walk out to the tent. Jim offered his hand and I stepped up on the platform, happy to see that so many of our friends had made the trip to my island paradise to witness the happy occasion.

I scanned the rows of guests as everyone turned to follow the bride’s procession toward the makeshift altar. Nina winked at me, and I noticed a man I’d never seen before leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Joan and Jim broke into irrepressible smiles as they locked eyes and she glided into place by his side.

“Dearly beloved, we have come together here today, on this magical island-on a perfect June evening-to celebrate the marriage of Joan and Jim.

“How fitting it is that the Vineyard is the place you chose to formalize your union. The first trip you took together was to this island, finding pleasure in its glorious natural setting, finding sustenance in the magnificent waters that encircle its shores.”

I had written a short service for them, after which I was ready to take the bride and groom through the classic vows-simple words that belied the profound commitment they represent.

“…as I ask you, Jim, do you take Joan to be your wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward-for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, so long as you both shall live?”

His strong basso voice resonated throughout the tent when he said, “I do.”

Now all the ladies’ tissues came out. Joan affirmed her vows as rings were exchanged and I ended the short ceremony. “It gives me great pleasure, by virtue of whatever authority is vested in me by the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, to now pronounce you man and wife. Jim, you may kiss the bride.”

The devoted friends were all on their feet applauding the long embrace and the recessional, before moving to the two larger tents that had been set up, one for a seated dinner and the other for dancing.

Champagne corks popped as waiters filled our glasses and Jim made a toast to his dazzling bride. Nina snaked her way to me after greeting old friends and stopping to chat with Mrs. Stafford.

“Add this talent to your résumé, Alex. You did just fine.”

“I’ll pass on that, but thanks,” I said, touching my flute against hers. “It’s even more nerve-racking than giving an opening argument. I kept waiting for someone to stand up in the tent and object.”

“Mrs. Stafford almost did. She can’t bear the thought of Joan living in Washington.”

“Neither can I. Now, who’s your new best friend, darling? You were tête-à-tête through the whole ceremony.”

“The poor guy didn’t know anybody, so I was pointing out all the players. I never got his name, but he said he goes way back with Jim. Catch your eye, did he? I didn’t think he was your type.”

“What would that be?”

“Aloof. Unavailable. Self-centered. Any or all of the above. Who did the seating for dinner? Maybe I can play around with the place cards,” Nina said. “His looks are so uneven, aren’t they? Makes it more interesting.”

“Don’t mess with Joan’s tables. It’s all very carefully calculated.”

I could see Jim’s friend just a few feet away, conversing with two other journalists I’d met last night. Nina was right about his features. One wouldn’t describe him as classically handsome-a slim, chiseled face with what my mother called a Roman nose, long and straight, and wire-rimmed glasses that shaded his blue-gray eyes. But he exuded a strong, attractive presence, and I blushed when he turned and caught me staring at him.