"No. All I'm saying is that there are two sides to every story."
"Precisely. That's why we'll take this case before a judge and, if need be, a jury."
"Or settle out of court."
"Or not handle it at all." Her voice mellowed.
"Look what just happened. We have to be careful, Sawyer. When we're together we talk.
It would be all too easy to discuss things we shouldn't. " She chewed on her cheek for a minute, then rose from the sofa and walked to the far side of the room.
"This isn't the way I imagined it. I always wanted to work on the same side as you. I thought maybe we'd represent codefendants in some kind of civil suit." Turning, she started back toward him.
"I don't want to fight you."
He arched a brow.
"You can always tell Mrs. Lein- decker that you won't represent her."
"But she has a right to representation."
"Let someone else do it."
She stopped talking.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? And your client would like it. He's scared. That was why he called you so quickly.
He's scared, because he knows I fight hard. " She rather liked that thought. She didn't like the next, though.
"Is that why you stopped in here. Sawyer? Did you come to try to talk me off this case?"
"Absolutely not," Sawyer said, coming to his feet. "I want to work with you, even if we are on opposite sides of the case. I've heard you're good. I want to see how good. But if working against me will inhibit you" -- "Why should it?"
"Because we're friends."
"Will our friendship inhibit you'?" "Of course not," he said crossly.
"A client is a client. Every one deserves the best I can give."
"Should I be different? More partial? More emotional? Should I be making any less of a commitment to my clients than you make to yours?"
"Take it easy. Faith. You're making something out of nothing."
"No," she said, but more thoughtfully.
"I know you, Sawyer. Remember the hours we used to spend talking? Remember the times we discussed sexual stereotypes? Remember the times you confessed that you believed women were too emotional for certain types of jobs?"
"I was talking about the presidency of the country, and I still feel that way."
"And I still think you're wrong."
"Fine. Good. I respect that."
She came closer.
"I also think your opinions go beyond the presidency.
You think women are too emotional, period. "
"Not true. Just too emotional for certain jobs."
"Like the presidency."
"I've already said that."
"Or Chairman of the Board of General Motors?"
"What woman is interested in cars? Chairman of the Board of General Foods, now there's a possibility...."
"Sawyer, that's awful!" she cried. She was standing directly before him, hands on hips, chin set.
"Talk about stereotypes. You don't have to be interested in cars to be involved with General Motors. You have to be interested in big business and in profits, and if you try to tell me that women aren't economically savvy, I'll scream."
He did his best not to grin.
"Calm down, Faith. You're getting too emotional."
"Too emotional?" she echoed, but she saw the humor of the situation.
And she couldn't be angry at
Sawyer. He was too nice a guy. "Why is it that when a man raises his voice he's being emphatic, but when a woman does it she's being emotional? Answer me that. Sawyer Bell."
"It's all in the voice. A man's voice--raised--is forceful. A woman's is shrill." "Is that how you see it in the courtroom?"
"Sometimes." "And it turns off the judge?"
"Or the jury, or both."
"But we lady lawyers are winning cases. How do you explain that?"
His eyes twinkled.
"You lady lawyers who are winning cases have learned to be less emotional and more emphatic."
"That's a compliment, I take it?"
"Definitely."
"Do you see those few female execs of Fortune 500 companies as being more emphatic and less emotional?"
"No doubt."
"But they couldn't be President of the U.S. of A."
"Not yet. They may have come a long way, but they still have a long way to go." "And women like Margaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi and Golda Meir?"
He grinned.
"They weren't trying to rule countries dominated by male chauvinist pigs."
Faith laughed. She'd forgotten how much fun talking with Sawyer was.
As parochial as his views of women were, he knew it, even ridiculed it. In that sense he was probably one of the most liberal men she'd ever met.
Slipping an arm around her shoulder, he drew her to his side.
"You laugh, Faith. I like that."
"How can I help it? You're irresistible!"
"So are you." His grin gave way to a look of open- eyed hope.
"Come with me tonight. There's a tribute for Dewey O'Day at Parker's. It's going to be boring as hell, but I knew the guy. He gave me good coverage when he was with the Herald, so I really have to go. Come with me."
She made a face.
"Boring as hell, huh? That's not a great selling point."
"Me. You'll be with me. You'll be helping me survive."
"Sawyer, I hate those things."
"So do I, but I have to go." He cupped her shoulders.
"If you go too, we'll have fun. It won't last more than an hour or two."
"Or three. I know these things. They drag on forever."
"We'll sneak out before the speeches begin. In the meantime, there'll be food and booze."
"I don't drink."
"Neither do I, so we'll each have one and we won't be bored at all."
"That sounds totally irresponsible."
"So?"
"What about the case?"
"What case?"
"The Leindecker case. Maybe we shouldn't be seen together."
"That's crazy. We're friends. And colleagues. There's no reason why we can't spend time together. We won't be discussing clients, will we?"
"No."
"So? What do you say?"
"Oh, Sawyer." She let out a breath.
"I have so much work to do."
"On Friday night?"
"Yes, on Friday night."
"Do it tomorrow."
"I have other stuff to do tomorrow."
"So you'll have a little more. Come on, Faith. Live a little."
She looked dubious.
"At a tribute to Dewey O'Day?"
"With me. We'll have a good time. I promise."
Faith tried to think back to the last time she'd had a good time. It seemed ages ago.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
1 he room was packed. Everyone who was anyone in Boston political circles was there, as well as members of the business and professional communities who had at one point been touched by Dewey O'Day. That was no small number; the man had been the nose of the Herald for forty years. Faith suspected as many people were there to butter up his successor as to pay tribute to Dewey himself. Sawyer confirmed it in a low drawl as they meandered through the crowd.
His whisper swelled to a full voice when he ex tended a hand to an older man who smiled as they approached.
"Senator Cooperthome. How have you been?"
"Fine, Sawyer."
"Do you know Faith Barry? Faith, this is Peter Cooperthome, State Senator from Winthrop."
Faith offered her hand and a cordial smile.
"It's a pleasure.
Senator. "
"The pleasure is mine. Good taste, Sawyer. She's a fine-looking woman.
Is she yours? "
Sawyer shot Faith an amused glance.
"Uh, no. She's a friend. Actually, a lawyer. Actually, a very skilled lawyer. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her. She's something of an authority on family law."
But family law wasn't Peter Cooperthome's thing, as Faith discovered when he quickly launched into a discussion of the city's latest union dispute. Actually it wasn't so much a discussion as a monologue, and a rambling one at that. Sawyer, who did occasionally dabble in labor law, took the first opportunity to excuse himself and guide Faith away.
"Hot air," he side-mouthed to her.
"The man doesn't know diddly about labor psychology, but he has an endless supply of hot air."
"He is the consummate politician," she side- mouthed back, then smiled at a familiar face. "Hi, Tommy. How goes it?"
"Great. But I haven't seen you in a while. You don't come visiting anymore."
Faith sent him a dry look, then made the introductions.
"Tommy Lonigan, Sawyer Bell. Tommy is with the Probation Department," she explained to Sawyer.
"We've had, uh, mutual clients."
Tommy wasn't leaving it at that.
"Faith is the best thing to show her face in the Somerville Court House in years."
"I can believe that," Sawyer said.
"Nice meeting you." With a light hand at Faith's back, he started her moving again.
"Don't know how he'd know about years," he said under his breath.
"He looks like he's fresh out of high school."
"UMass. And he's been out for three years." She nodded at another familiar face, but didn't stop. When Sawyer swept two glasses of wine from a passing tray and handed her one, she took it. They walked on.
"Sawyer!" A dapper-looking man stopped them. Sawyer introduced him as a former client; Faith recognized him as one of the city's major philanthropists.
"So you're paying tribute to old Dewey, too?"
"Sure," Sawyer said.
"He's been fair to me."
The man leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Wish I could say the same, but he has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to money. He knocks me in his column every chance he gets, and if it isn't me, it's my car or my house or my art collection. As far as I'm concerned, he should have retired twenty years ago." "If you feel that way," Faith couldn't help but ask, "why are you here?"
"Because I'm a good sport. And because the governor's showing up later and he likes old Dewey." He winked at her, clapped Sawyer on the shoulder and moved on.
Faith looked at Sawyer.
"At least he was honest. What do you think he wants from the governor?"
"Probably a job for his new son-in-law. From what I hear, the kid's a real dud." He chinked his wineglass to hers.
"Cheers."
"Cheers." She took a swallow and let Sawyer guide her on.
They stopped to greet a mutual acquaintance, a TV reporter who covered the State House and who, when he was off duty, covered himself to the exclusion of most other topics of conversation. Faith thought him a self-centered bore, which she promptly told Sawyer when they finally escaped.
"Not only that," Sawyer announced, "but he sleeps with a teddy bear."
He took another swallow of wine.
Faith nearly choked on hers. Laughing, she looked up at him. "A teddy bear? How do you know that?"
"He had an affair with one of the lawyers in our office. She saw the bear."
"Now that's interesting," Faith decided.
"Not boring at all." But it was the exception to the rule. For another hour, they wound their way through the crowd, and though they were often stopped by fellow lawyers and other acquaintances, they were never tempted to linger in any one circle for long.
Then the speeches began.
"Let's leave," Faith whispered. She and Sawyer were at the back of the room, shoulder to shoulder against the wall. They'd had two glasses of wine apiece, and wife they weren't quite tipsy, they weren't quite not.
"I'm hungry."
"How can you be hungry?" he whispered back.
"You ate a full plate of hors d'oeuvres."
"They were puny and, besides, you ate half of them."
"I did?"
"You did. What would you say to some Peking ravioli and a little Kung Pao shrimp?"
"I'd say, " Ah so. "" Faith snickered.
He leaned closer.
"Shhh. You'll disturb the ME."
"The ME," she whispered back, "is a lousy speaker. His voice doesn't carry. I can't hear a word he's saying. Who told him to be ME anyway?"
"He's the Speaker of the House. He can do what he wants."
"Except speak."
Sawyer snickered.
"Shhh. You'll disturb the ME."
"You want to listen? I thought you wanted to leave."
"Can we?" she asked, eyes lighting up.