flows like blood at Stalling.
“He might win it. Even if he doesn’t, it’ll cost Harbison’s more to fight the motion than it will to let him do the interviews.”
“Money’s no object, Mary, when it’s the client’s.”
I don’t bother forcing a smile.
“By the by, I understand you’ll be handling the new age case for Harbison’s. The plaintiff’s named Hart, right?” He gets up, tugging at suspenders needlepointed with flying owls.
“Right.”
“Sam wasn’t sure you were ready, but I told him it was time we gave you a case of your own. If you need a hand, let me know. I’ll keep it to myself,” he says with a wink.
He’s about to leave when Ned suddenly sticks his head in the doorway. His jacket is off and one hand is hidden behind his back. “Mary?” he says, in the split second before he spots Martin.
“Young Waters!” Martin booms. “What brings you up to this neck of the woods?”
“I thought I’d stop in to see Mary.” Ned beams at me from the doorway. His smile says, We’re lovers now.
I can’t help but return the smile. I feel it too. Bonded to him invisibly, by virtue of the fact that he’s been that close. When there’s not many who have.
Martin tugs at Ned’s shirtsleeve like an insistent child. “Haven’t seen much of you lately at the club.”
“No. I haven’t been there.”
“Working hard or hardly working?”
“I just haven’t had a chance to sail much yet this spring.”
“Too bad. I got out on Sunday. Had a beautiful day, a beautiful day. You’re welcome along anytime. Alida would love another lesson,” he says, with measurable warmth. His hand rests on Ned’s shoulder. “She’s darn good for a sixteen-year-old, don’t you agree?”
“She’s good,” Ned says.
Martin turns to me. “Waters here taught Alida more in one afternoon than that school in Annapolis did all last summer.” He slaps Ned on the back. “How about this Sunday, my man? What are you doing this weekend? Why don’t you head over for brunch? We’ll spend all afternoon on the water. What do you say?”
“Uh, I’m busy.” Ned flashes me a grin. His eyes are bright, and his look is undisguised. “I have big plans.”
Martin looks from Ned to me. His smile fades slowly. “Do my eyes deceive me?”
“It depends on what they’re telling you,” Ned says, with a laugh.
“Ned-” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence. I don’t want Ned telling Martin about us. Not when I’m about to break us up, at least temporarily.
“What?” Ned asks, smiling. “Don’t you want to tell the world? I do.”
Martin looks back and forth between us again. “Say it ain’t so, Joe,” he says.
I’m not sure I like Martin’s tone. Neither does Ned, who bristles. “Something wrong, Martin?”
“With you and DiNunzio?” Martin asks. “Of course not. I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“So am I,” Ned answers lightly. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I shoot Ned a warning glance.
Martin pats Ned’s shoulder. “Don’t take offense, Waters.”
“None taken,” Ned says abruptly, brushing past Martin to me. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” He whips his hand out from behind his back, but it’s covered by a gray wool jacket. The jacket conceals something huge, almost as big as his arm.
Martin clears his throat behind Ned. “Well. It looks like you won’t be needing me.”
“I can handle it from here,” Ned calls back, and Martin closes the door. Ned beams at me. “Guess what the bulge is. And it’s not that I’m happy to see you, even though I am happy to see you.”
“You didn’t have to do anything.”
“I know that. Now guess. It’s in disguise.” He wiggles the jacket, and it makes a crinkling sound.
“A really big muffin?”
“You’re half right.” He snaps the jacket off with a magician’s flourish. Underneath is a full bouquet of rich red roses, wrapped in cellophane. “Ta-da!”
“Jeez, Ned!”
He hands the bouquet to me and kisses me on the cheek. “These are for you, sweetheart.”
I take the crinkly bouquet and feel myself blushing. The flowers are beautiful. The man is charming. I am in love. How am I supposed to give this up? How am I supposed to hurt him?
“Do you like them?” he asks worriedly.
“They’re lovely.” I avoid his eye.
Suddenly, he takes my face in his hands and gives me a long, deep kiss. I return it over the sweet smell of the flowers, feeling touched and confused at the same time.
“I missed you last night. I really did.” He kisses me again, but I pull away.
“You sent Judy.”
“To take care of you. But she’s no substitute, right?”
I nod. The roses are a cardinal red, and the underside of each petal has a dense and velvety texture. There are twelve in all. They must have cost a fortune.
“I did get you a muffin, by the way.” He wrestles with the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a crumpled white bag the size of a hardball. “Blueberry.” He shakes it beside his ear like a light bulb. “It’s in three hundred and fifty-seven pieces at this point. Sorry about that.” He sets it down on my desk.
“Thank you.”
“You still don’t look happy. Was Martin giving you a hard time?”
“Uh, yeah. First he holds back on the two deposition notices, the ones I told you about. Then he tells me he’s the one who told Berkowitz to give me theHart case, not the other way around. I think he’s trying to save face.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know what?”
“That Martin wasn’t the one to suggest it to Berkowitz?”
“That’s not what Berkowitz said. Implied, anyway.”
Ned looks skeptical. “Maybe Berkowitz wasn’t telling the truth. Maybe it was Martin who suggested you get the case.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Martin champion my cause, Ned? You saw him just now.”
“That was because he wants to fix me up with his daughter. It wasn’t directed at you.”
“No?”
“No. I’d take Martin over Berkowitz any day.”
“I’d take Berkowitz over Martin any day.”
We regard each other over the flowers. We seem to be lined up on opposing sides of a class war. It breaks the mood-which is a godsend, for what I have to do.
“Is this our first fight?” he asks, with a sad smile.
“Ned-”
“Then I have something to say.” He grabs the flowers and puts them on the desk. Then he walks over to me and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
I can smell his aftershave, familiar to me now, and feel the heavy cotton of his shirt. “Ned-”
“You don’t need a hard time from me this morning, do you?” He hugs me tighter, rocking a little, and I feel myself relax into the comfort of his arms. My hands slip easily around the small of his back. He wears no undershirt, which I love, and his shirt is slightly damp from the walk to work.
“The notes are missing, Ned.”
He kisses my hair. “No, they’re not. I have them.”
I pull away from him. “You have the notes, Ned?You?”
“Not with me. I put them in my safe at home, behind the picture of that old Lightning, at Wellfleet.”
“Where did you get them?”
“The notes? I went to the office after the memorial service.”
