The Divorce Papers: A Novel (39 page)

NARRAGANSETT STATE BAR

Disciplinary Actions
August 9, 1999

R
EPRIMANDS

E
LWOOD
C
ARSTON
J
R
of New Salem was reprimanded by the Grievance Committee for assisting a disbarred lawyer in the unauthorized practice of law.

G
EORGE
M. H
UBBELL
of New Salem was reprimanded by the Grievance Committee for failing to supervise his paralegal. Hubbell allowed his paralegal to substitute her professional judgment for those of associate lawyers in his office and allowed her to modify those lawyers’ work product.

R
AY
K
AHN
of New Salem was reprimanded by the Grievance Committee for challenging the presumption of paternity in a divorce case.

R
ITA
J. M
ARTINELLI
of Compton was reprimanded by the Grievance Committee for assisting a disbarred lawyer in the unauthorized practice of law.

S
USPENSIONS

P
RUDENCE
D. C
AULDER
of New Salem commingled funds, did not main-tain proper trust account records, and did not reconcile her trust account. She was suspended from the practice of law for four years by the Grievance Committee.

G
ARRETT
M
CCORMICK
of Springfield made sexual comments to and inappropriately touched two clients. He was suspended from the practice of law for three years by the Grievance Committee.

D
ISBARMENTS

P
ATRICK
G
RANTHAM
of Compton was disbarred by the Narragansett District Court from the practice of law for embezzling client funds and funds withheld for the benefit of the Internal Revenue Service from employees’ paychecks.

The Last of Harry

Dear Maggie,

You won’t believe what took place this afternoon in the august corridors of Traynor, Hand. Tessa Gregg, Harry’s semi-ex, showed up at reception at about 3:15, saying she urgently needed to see me. The receptionist asked for a name and said she’d check if I were in. Tessa announced herself as “Harry’s Wife. She’ll know.” I told the receptionist I’d come down to reception.

She’s a real looker, more than that, drop-dead gorgeous, long dancer’s legs, a tiny waist, and a neck out of Modigliani, with a small, elegant head perched on top. Dark hair, thick, wavy, and short, eyelashes like a four-year-old’s, light blue-gray wolf’s eyes, red mouth, dressed in a silky purple dress that clung to her. Catching sight of me, she started yelling, “You tramp, you, you slut. What are you doing with my husband? Can’t you get one of your own? God, and you dress like a dog, no makeup. What is it, blow jobs?” And so it went for about two minutes. The offices started to empty out, and soon the reception area was ringed with lawyers watching her yell at me, transfixed. She was so beautiful and so crazy. I was stunned, too embarrassed to know what to do. And no one seemed to want to stop the show. Rescue finally came. Joe, who knows crazy when he sees it and doesn’t care for it, no matter the packaging, took charge. He stepped between us, facing her. “I’ve just asked the receptionist to call the police. If you are not gone in two minutes, they’ll be here, and I will swear a warrant against you for disturbing the peace, trespass, stalking, and assault.” He didn’t touch her; he just stood there. She was knocked off her game. She’s crazy but not stupid. “Well, fuck you, horn nose,” she said to him, and walked out. “Get back to work,” Joe said to everyone, and they did. He walked me back to my office. “Don’t explain, to me or
anyone. We criminal lawyers have crazy clients with crazy wives.” He left, returning shortly with a small glass of scotch. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.” I did and I did.

As I thought about the scene, I got furious with Harry. Why had he told her about me? I phoned him up and told him what happened. “Keep her away from me,” I said. “And if you can’t, I will swear out a warrant for stalking. What were you thinking, talking to her about me? Showing off?” He mumbled an apology cum explanation. “I mentioned your name once or twice; she couldn’t understand that I didn’t want her. In her mind, there had to be another woman.” How’s that for manly behavior? “Don’t make me think you’re a complete jerk,” I said, and hung up. I have to say I do think he’s a jerk. And I am glad it’s over. He didn’t protect me. Good men protect their women. And vice versa, of course.

I think I’m all right. A bit shaky though, too ragged to work. No one has ever been jealous of me before. I’ve always been the best friend, not the competition. Of course, she’s crazy. I’m going home now—or maybe I’ll have another scotch with Joe. Wasn’t he great? That’s what I need, someone like Joe but 25 years younger.

Love,
Sophie

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

On August 31, 1999, Fiona McGregor, a partner at Traynor, Hand, Wyzanski since 1992, resigned from the firm. She will be joining Farrow Allerton. She has been a valued colleague, a first-rate litigator, and an astute counselor. We wish her all the best.

Fiona McGregor

Dear David,

I was blown away by the news of Fiona’s departure. Farrow Allerton? I didn’t think there were any members who hadn’t come over in the
Mayflower
or sunk on the
Titanic
. Good for them. Good for her. Good for us? We’re down to two women partners, out of ten. Mather won’t like that; they look for firms with at least 30%.

I can’t help feeling somehow responsible for this (the way a child feels responsible for a parent’s divorce, a kind of grandiosity?). And even if it isn’t my fault, I think people somehow will think it is.

I am very sorry it came to this.

Sophie

Office Politics

Dear Maggie,

My life is a Russian soap opera. The latest: Fiona has decamped for Farrow Allerton, the old-line white-shoe law firm that only represents Plimouth Club life members. They used to do a lot of work for the University, but with the recent Jewish ascendency, they’ve been pushed aside. I’m not sure they even have a Jewish partner. I think Fiona will be only their second woman partner, out of 20+. But then, we’re down to only two too with Fiona’s departure.

I keep thinking that everyone is looking at me funny, as though it was my doing that she left. With all the fuss over the Meiklejohn divorce, most of the lawyers (and the staff too) probably breathed a sigh of relief; still I get the feeling some of them wouldn’t mind if I left too. The old gang hasn’t abandoned me, but the rest are suspicious and cranky, as if I were going to filch their clients too. David supports me and the Meiklejohns protect me, but their protection doesn’t make me any more popular. Joe has been great. And his advice about Tessa was spot-on. Anytime someone mentioned the incident to me, I just shook my head and mumbled: “I should have been a trusts and estates lawyer.” I wish I had been able to respond to her; I was so aghast I couldn’t move. Joe said next time I’ll do better. “You’re too polite, sweetheart,” he always says to me. “We’ve got to knock the Brearley out of you.” I bet Mia Meiklejohn wouldn’t have stood there dumbfounded, though of course, she might not have resolved the situation with Joe’s finesse. They probably would have ended up duking it out. Both she and Tessa rely on the good manners or inhibitions of others. And then they’re both so very beautiful. Beautiful women are bolder. Comme Maman. Comme toi. I’m not complaining
about my looks—I’ve had my admirers, I know that—but would anyone love me for myself alone, and not my yellow hair? At least I’ve been spared the problem of beautiful women. Did you know there was a problem? They—you—attract too many men; there’s no built-in screening device, separating the pearls from the swine. I’ve always felt I had to talk my way into someone’s heart.

I’m so glad it’s a holiday weekend. I can’t wait to get to Wellfleet. I’m cutting out at 2 today, if not earlier. When do you think you’ll get there? The key’s under the back steps if you get there first. Luc is coming too. What larks.

xoxoxo

Sophie

Re: Fiona McGregor

Sophie,

You’re not completely wrong. The people you speak of know rationally it’s not your fault (and it’s not, see next paragraph), but we’re not a particularly rational species. We are, however, a reliably venal one, and everyone at the firm recognizes the service you’re doing. That may be the real problem: your relationship with the Meiklejohns. There are men, I’m told, who don’t much like other people’s success, especially when they know they could do it a thousand times better than a girl, given the chance.

The problem here, as you point out, is that we’ve lost one of our three women partners. That’s not good. And she left I believe because of the letter of reprimand, even though it was withdrawn and many sincere apologies made. She accused us, and rightly so, of operating under a double standard. I know you know about this. Everyone hears everything. It’s my understanding the night porter gave his opinion on it.

Chin up, Sophie. You’ll get through this and soon and be back with the boys in the back room.

David

Re: Office Politics

Dear Sophie—

I hate to be yelled at. I’ve never been able to yell back, except, of course, onstage, where I’ve played several harridans, my favorite being Martha in
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf
? A liberating part. I can’t lay it at Brearley’s feet, this lack of combativeness. I can be very ambitious, outspoken, aggressive even, when it comes to my career. I just hate yelling. It’s no doubt a vestige of early home life when my father wasn’t so defeated but still blamed my mother for everything. I used to burn for my mother to fight back, but she couldn’t. And now I can’t. BUT, I didn’t marry my father—or my mother. Matt never yells at me. He knows I can’t take it. When he’s truly exasperated with me (maybe once a month), he says, “You’ve got to shape up, girl.” And I don’t yell at him, either. I just nag or sulk.

Don’t worry about Fiona. In two months, no one will remember she even worked at the firm. And between David and Joe, you’re in like Flynn.

I’m so looking forward to Wellfleet this weekend. I haven’t seen Luc in ages. And, of course, your mother and Jake spoil us so. Matt’s making a chocolate cake to bring along. I’m bringing a script for
The Rivals
. The rep is putting it on this spring. I’m going to try out for Lydia Languish. Isn’t that the best name for a heroine? I’m counting on you all to help me with the part.

Love,
Maggie

P.S. What’s this nonsense about talking your way into someone’s heart? Talking may clinch the deal, but it doesn’t open the negotiations. Harry took one look at you and swooned. You look just like your mother, only blond. Sock-pulling time.

xoxo