Jackie/Lori Merritt/Myles - Her Best Defense

“And you stop with that golden girl nonsense,” Lisa shot back good-naturedly.

“I don’t know, Lisa,” Darren McCaffery, another junior associate said, “I think Larry might have something there. What is this? Your twelfth straight win?”

“Actually, it’s my thirteenth. But who’s counting,” she said with a teasing grin.

A space was opened for Lisa at the two tables the group had joined together, and before she could say Jack Frost, an icy cold beer was set in front of her.

“You know, winning thirteen consecutive cases is an accomplishment to be proud of,” Pamela said as Lisa took her first sip. “And if you consider the type of cases Ludlow has given you lately, you really are the firm’s golden girl.”

“Come on, Pam, not you, too. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I wonder if we’ll still be friends when you’re moved upstairs,” Pamela commented.

“Oh, please!” Lisa said, nearly spilling her beer. “You know me better than that. Besides, I don’t think I’ll be moving anywhere in the near future.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Madeline chimed in.

Madeline was the sixteenth-floor receptionist and crucial to everyone on the floor. It wasn’t just her expertise with the complicated telephone system or the way she handled visitors and clients that had her held in such high esteem by her co-workers. What made Madeline special was her knowledge of everything that went on in the firm. Some said it was because of a long-term affair she was supposedly having with one of the firm’s senior partners, Philip Bonner. Others speculated that it was simply because she had been there for so many years. Whatever the case, Lisa was glad she could call the woman a friend.

“You heard it here first,” Pamela said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Lisa replied, making light of a subject dear to her heart.

Moving upstairs would mean a huge promotion and it was, of course, what every associate was working toward. Moving upstairs meant a junior partnership and that was something that wasn’t offered very often or taken lightly. Lisa felt her heart picking up its pace just from thinking about such a move.

“Hey, Lisa,” Larry called from the other end of the two tables, “tell us about court today.”

Lisa shook her head. Larry Lutz was the firm’s researcher and another valuable asset. He loved to tease her about her success because he knew she was never the type to brag, like the other lawyers they all knew.

“We can certainly find something more interesting than that to talk about,” she called back with her face screwed up in a comical expression that made the others laugh.

Then she unconsciously pushed her shoulder-length blond hair behind her left ear, and was completely unaware of how one particular light fixture beamed directly on her and turned her hair color to gleaming gold. She was a pretty woman, twenty-eight years of age, with dark eyes and beautifully shaped lips. She was five feet six inches tall and weighed in at 120. She loved high heels and extravagant shoes, and would willingly spend much more on a pair of elegant designer shoes than on one of the business suits she favored for work.

A round of jokes began, with everyone getting in on the fun. The group was laughing and cutting up when someone tapped Lisa on the shoulder. She glanced up and saw Grant Gowan, a handsome young attorney with one of the other law firms in the building. Grant was smiling down at her, his light brown eyes sparkling.

“You’re all having entirely too much fun over here,” he said and heard a round of good-natured boos in response. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I really came over to speak to Lisa.” He put a hand on the table and leaned toward her. “Do you mind?”

“Mind talking to you? Of course not. But you might have to yell to be heard over this bunch.”

“I’ll lean in a bit more,” he said and did exactly that, putting his mouth very close to Lisa’s ear. “There’s a birthday party for Faith Unser tomorrow night. I know you know her and I thought you might like to go with me. It’s being held at John and Rita Bryant’s apartment. You’ve met them, haven’t you?”

Lisa gave a slight nod. “Yes, we’ve met. Sure, I’ll go with you.”

“How about I give you a call tomorrow and we’ll firm up our plans? It’s pretty hard to talk in here.”

“Good idea.” She smiled as Grant straightened up, nodded and walked away.

“Now, pray tell what that was all about,” Pamela said with a raised eyebrow. Madeline was all ears, too, Lisa saw. “Grant is quite a hunk,” Pamela added. “How long has this been going on?”

Lisa laughed. “Nothing’s going on, so put your wild imagination back in its cage.”

“A man whispering in a woman’s ear is nothing?” Pamela’s left eyebrow was still higher than the right.

Lisa playfully decided to let them all wonder about Grant. Even the men at the table wore expressions of downright nosiness, which brought out her devilish side.

“I never talk about anything that a man whispers in my ear,” she said with a teasing little grin. “That’s just the way I am.”

“Well, I can pretty much guess what it was, so there!” Pamela shot back.

“Taken up mind reading, have we, Pam?”

“You’re incorrigible. You know you’re going to tell me all about it sooner or later.” Pamela turned to the others at the table and began relating a joke.

Lisa chuckled to herself. She had unwound beautifully with one glass of beer and some laughs. The Pub was good medicine for a hardworking attorney who had spent most of the day in a courtroom, winning her thirteenth consecutive case.

Lisa was home shortly after nine. Home was a renovated town house, circa 1920, and she loved it. It was the most significant purchase of her life. After moving in, she had spent a lot of time and money on personalizing the two-story, long, narrow building with its small but wonderful backyard.

In the foyer, she set her briefcase and purse on the ancient library table she’d run across in a secondhand shop and fallen madly in love with—she was a sucker for furnishings from past eras—stepped out of her high heels and took off her suit jacket. She loved the smell of her home, a combination of old wood, furniture polish, her favorite perfume and something she couldn’t positively identify but liked thinking as her unique scent.

Shoeless, Lisa went into the kitchen, took some cheese and fruit, which she figured would do nicely for her supper, from the refrigerator and then returned to the foyer for her briefcase. She left her shoes and jacket to be put away in the morning, whereupon she went upstairs to the small room she used as a home office. Seated at her desk, she took a bite of cheese and dialed her mother’s telephone number. Claudia Caputo answered at once.

“Hi, Mom, what’s up?”

“Nothing new, honey. Another day, another dollar.”

Lisa had long ago formed the habit of calling her mother every day. They both looked forward to their daily chat.

“I won in court today,” Lisa said.

“Of course you did.”

“I’m not always going to win, Mom.”

“Well, if you don’t, you should have.”

“Always on my team, aren’t you?”

“Always, honey.”

“I dropped into The Pub for a drink with the gang,” Lisa said. “And a guy asked me to go to a birthday party with him tomorrow evening. What do you think of that?”

“Is he young, handsome and sexy?”

“Mom!”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, why would you want to go out with an ugly old coot?”

Lisa couldn’t help laughing. “He’s young and good-looking, but sexy? I don’t know about that.”