I wouldn't give him a job, either. It's unhealthy for children to train in their father's business. Far better that they train somewhere else then come back with fresh ideas. But she wanted the easy way out.
She figured she could have her cake and eat it too--have a job like a career woman, but still be able to play like her mother does. "
Sawyer cleared his throat.
"What does her mother--your wife--do, exactly?"
"Shop. Play cards. Meet friends for lunch." "Has she ever done any work for you?"
"In the early days she did some typing and filing, but once the business started to grow, she retired. She comes into the office once a year to do the Christmas party, which is just fine. She doesn't have a mind for business. She does throw a good party, though.
She gets the best people and she makes sure that they don't rob us blind. Caterers do that, you know. Especially with corporate clients.
Laura is wise to things like that. "
"It's a good quality for the wife of a man in your position."
As though only then realizing what he'd said, Bruce compensated by turning gruff. "The wife of a man in my position should know not to make a scene in the office about his indiscretions. She should know not to run to a lawyer the first chance she gets. And she should know not to bar him from his own home.
I put up with that for one night, but that was it. I have never been, nor am I now a violent man, but when my wife unfairly cuts me off, when she won't even let me explain myself, I refuse to sit idly by and take it. "
Sawyer could identify with that, too. Faith had frustrated him nearly beyond belief by repeatedly hanging up on him. The frustration had built and built through the night, so that by the time he'd stormed into her office that morning, he was harboring feelings that had bordered on the violent. "What, exactly, did you do?" he asked Bruce, as curious as he was wary.
"I lost my temper, knocked a few things on the | floor, but they were harmless things," he added quickly, 'like letters and magazines and folded laundry. She leaves the laundry on the stairs every day. It's the most annoying thing. She finally carries it up before she goes to bed, but in the meantime it sits there staring at me. "
Sawyer wouldn't mind laundry staring at him as long as it was clean and had been made so by someone other than himself. Of all the chores he'd come into since his divorce, doing laundry was the worst.
"Be grateful she does it for you."
"She doesn't. The laundress does. But the laundress doesn't go upstairs. Only the cleaning girl does that, and you can't expect the cleaning girl to be put ting personal things away, Laura says. I suppose she has a point. My laundry is always clean when I need it, so I really can't complain."
His voice hardened.
"I can complain about other things, though. The problem is that I haven't. I've kept my mouth shut too long. So now when I open it to her for the first time, she feels threatened. Well, she should!"
Sawyer would have raised an arm and shouted, "Right on!" if it hadn't been for the one point his client was conveniently forgetting. The marriage, for all its faults, had endured for twenty-four years until Bruce had cheated on his wife. Sawyer wasn't condemning him for it.
That wasn't his job. His job was to best advise and represent Bruce in any divorce action that might be taken, and since misbehavior now could become a factor later, caution seemed the way to go.
"What I want you to do," he said, "is to cool it a little. If she's threatened because you're speaking up to her at home for the first time, that's one thing. But if the threat becomes physical, or she perceives it as being physical, that's another."
Bruce was indignant.
"I wouldn't touch her. I'm not that kind of man."
"I know, but sometimes when men are provoked they do things they wouldn't normally do. It sounds to me like your wife is provoking you these days."
"That's an understatement."
"It also sounds like you've got a real communication problem."
"Maybe," Bruce admitted.
"Are you determined to stay at the house?"
"Yes. At least until she listens to my side of the story."
Sawyer paused, then asked slowly, "Do you want this divorce?" As things stood the Friday before when they'd last spoken, Bruce had been ready to file papers. He'd been angry, of course, mostly at the way his wife had confronted him, and he'd been frightened by Laura's hiring Faith, which was why he'd been so quick to put Sawyer on retainer. Apparently either the anger and fear had faded, or simply shifted in focus.
Good businessman that he was, Bruce said, "I'm making no decisions yet."
"Do you think you can salvage the marriage?"
"I don't know. She's furious. I've never seen her furious before."
"You've never cheated on her before. That does something to a woman."
"I suppose."
"Look, I'm not making judgments. I don't pretend to know what your marriage was like or what caused the affair at the Four Seasons. You should know, though, and if you don't, you'd better try to find out.
Communication is the key. I can mediate things, but only to a point.
Have you considered going to a counselor? "
"I haven't had time to consider much of anything. I'm too busy trying to make sure she doesn't have the locks on the house changed while I'm at work."
"Would she do that?"
"If she does, I'll put a stop on her charge cards."
"Did you tell her that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you told her you're not sure you want a divorce?"
"I told her I'd fight her. I didn't say whether I was talking about the divorce itself or a settlement. I just wanted her to know that I won't be a pansy anymore when it comes to her. If she wants to fight, I'll show her how it's done."
"Be cautious. I can't advise that enough. Be cautious." He hesitated.
"One last thought. The affair-is it really over?"
"It's over."
"So if your wife were to hire a private investigator, he wouldn't find you anywhere you shouldn't be?"
"No, sir."
"That's good. There's no need to rile her up any more than she already is. Legally you have every right to stay at the house, but while you're doing it, try to give her some breathing space. Let her calm down a little. Maybe then you'll be able to talk."
Long after Sawyer hung up the phone he thought about that advice. It applied to Faith and him, he knew. Their relationship had taken several dramatic twists in less than three days, and in the process emotions had been stirred. Those emotions had to simmer a bit, then settle. Maybe, he mused, he and Faith would be best not seeing each other for a few days.
It was an ironic thought. He hadn't seen Faith for weeks before last Friday. Their paths just hadn't crossed often lately. Yet they were best of friends. When they were together, they picked up right where they had left off. They were thoroughly compatible.
They'd always been so. He thought back to the times they'd spent together during law school, where they'd met, and then after, when they'd been establishing themselves in the legal world. They'd always been close, regardless of how frequently or infrequently they saw each other. There was one big difference between those earlier times and now, of course. They'd felt safe then, un threatened by each other because they were married to other people.
Now they were free, which was certainly why they'd allowed Friday night to happen. But he wasn't sorry it had. He'd done his share of socializing since he and Joanna were divorced, and Faith was head and shoulders above those other women. Sure, it had been a shock waking up in her bed. It had been a shock realizing the way their making love had happened. And it was going to necessitate a rethinking of their relationship. But he wasn't convinced their becoming more than friends was so terrible.
The problem was to convince Faith of that.
Jraith spent the week trying to convince herself that Sawyer was nothing but a good friend, a fellow lawyer with whom she just happened to share a case, and a one-time lover. The last caused her the most problem because much as she tried she couldn't forget the way he'd kissed her. Not when he was making love to her on the rug in the urban night light But when he'd kissed her in her office in the bold light of morning.
He hadn't been drunk then, not even tipsy. There had been nothing to blur his judgment, still he'd kissed her like a lover, and she'd responded. Worse, the response hadn't ended when he'd walked out the door. It had burrowed deep inside, making her restless ever since.
He'd made his point, all right. She was attracted to him which was just fine, she told herself. Just be cause a woman was attracted to a man didn't mean there had to be a heavy relationship. She didn't want a heavy relationship. She'd been through the disillusionment of one that had petered out, scattering hopes and dreams to the wind. Now she was enjoying her freedom, and if there were times when she thought of such things as having a family, she reminded herself that she had time. She was only thirty-three. Not over the hill quite yet.
Still her thoughts kept returning to Sawyer and that kiss. It had been, without a doubt, the most exciting kiss she'd ever received. As conservative as he looked on the outside, that kiss had been wild and unconstrained, and he hadn't apologized for it--not when he'd given it, nor in the hours after.
Hours stretched into days, and she didn't hear from him. She was alert when she passed through the lobby of the office building they shared, when she walked through the nearby streets, even when she was in the courthouse, but she didn't catch sight of him once.
Finally Friday morning, she had what she felt was a legitimate reason to call. She reached him at the office on the second try, just as he returned from an appointment.
"Hi, Sawyer." She sounded calm, despite the acceleration of her pulse.
She wasn't sure how she'd be received.
"Faith!" He shrugged out of his trenchcoat, only mildly winded from the dash through the rain and up the stairs.
"I just got in."
"I'm sorry to bother you."
"No bother." He was inordinately pleased that she'd called, inordinately pleased that she sounded amiable, given the way they'd last parted.
"Is everything okay?"
On one hand, it was. His tone of voice, enthusiastic but with that last bit of concern, was the Sawyer she knew and loved. She felt back on stable ground, at least where he was concerned.
On the other hand, there was no stable ground at her client's house.
"Laura Leindecker just called. Her husband's gone. After sticking to her like glue all week, he just... disappeared. You haven't by chance heard from him, have you?"
Sawyer frowned.
"Not since Monday. When was the last time she saw him?"
"Yesterday morning. He didn't come back to the house last night."
"I'd have thought she'd be pleased. She wanted him out."
"She's worried. It may be habit, still she's worried."
Tossing his trenchcoat aside, he dropped into his chair.
"Are you sure the word isn't suspicious?" he asked, but in a curious way, rather than a snide one.
"Maybe she's thinking he's with another woman."
Faith had wondered about that, had even dared ask it. Laura had been uneasy with the question.
"It would be impossible for her not to be suspicious. She found that note. He admitted to being unfaithful. A basic trust was destroyed then." She paused, trying to hone in on her instincts and convey them to one who might help. "Laura wants to be able to say that he's with another woman, but I think her worry goes deeper. I think she's genuinely concerned."
"Has she called the office?"
"She was embarrassed to do it herself, so she had her cleaning girl do it. He wasn't there. His secretary said he was out for the day."
"Maybe he's away on business."
"He didn't pack any things. I thought maybe he'd contacted you, but if he hasn't" -- "Let me make a few calls." Sawyer had already nipped through the pink slips that were sitting on his desk. None had to do with Bruce Leindecker.
"I may be able to push the right buttons and get some information. Will you be in the office for a little while?"
"I won't go anywhere until you call back. Thanks, Sawyer."
As she quietly hung up the phone, she realized that she felt better than she had all week. She liked having Sawyer on her side. He'd been there for so many years, an able resource person, a shoulder to lean on. Strange that their doing something as intimate as making love should pit them against each other--and it had done that, more so than the Leindecker case. If she was lucky, maybe the Leindecker case would be the thing to get them back on the track of being friends. He had certainly been the old, dependable, agreeable, helpful Sawyer a minute ago.
He was all of those things when he called back half an hour later.
"Bruce is fine. He's with their son, Tim, in Longmeadow."