Sleeping Beauty (29 page)

She was a very real threat to Vince. Of course he would like to get rid of her.

Well, he wouldn't. He'd done it once; he would not do it again. She had a family now. She'd always had one, though she hadn't realized it. Ethan had cared about her, and she was sure that, in their own ways, Marian and Nina and William probably had, too, though at that terrible moment they had failed her. But now Gail and Leo were here, and Ned and Robin, and if she wanted them for her family, and maybe some of the others, too, Vince could not stop her. She would have a family again. And she wouldn't give it up as she had done before, far too easily.

This time, if anyone leaves this family, it will be Vince
.

“ . . . Monday, Aunt Anne?” asked Robin.

Anne started. “I'm sorry, what about Monday?”

“We could go to my ceramics class together. Is that okay? Maybe you'd make something; you'd really like it. And then we could get a hot dog and eat it in the park. Is that okay?”

Anne revised her plan to leave on Monday. She would call the office early in the morning and ask her secretary to reschedule everything. “I'd like that. Where do you—”

“Hi, I heard your voices so I came through the house.”

“Dora, welcome back,” Gail said. “It's been a long time. This is Anna Cha—Garnett. Anne, Dora Chatham. Have you had lunch, Dora?”

“No, I've been shopping all morning. I'm starved.” She turned to Anne. “I saw you at Ethan's funeral; we were all wondering who you were. Are you staying with Gail and Leo?”

Anne nodded. She could not speak. It was almost as if Vince sat before her. Dora's long blond hair waved and gleamed exactly like her father's; her brown eyes flickered over Anne exactly as her father's had; her smile was as sweet, her chin as sharp. Dora Chatham, with her angelic beauty, was a scaled-down, feminine Vince Chatham, and for just a moment, Anne cringed.

Gail looked a question to Anne. With barely a pause, Anne nodded. Dora had to know who she was; they could not keep it a secret. “You probably don't remember Anne,” Gail said, “she's been gone so long, but she's my sister. She left—”

“You're
that
Anne?” Dora stared at her. “No wonder they all went crazy at the funeral. You took off when I was about five, didn't you? My mother said you didn't like us much. And you never came back until now? Where were you?”

“California,” Gail said. “Anne lives in Los Angeles.”

“Really? So do I. Where do you live?”

“Century City,” Anne replied. Her voice was tight.

“Is that near you, Dora?” asked Gail.

“No,” she said shortly.

Leo's eyebrows rose. “Problems, Dora?”

She shrugged. “I don't live there anymore. As of two months ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Gail said. “We had no idea. You were together such a long time.”

“Three years and two months. And one week.”

“And you decided it wasn't right for you?”

“He decided.” She shrugged again. “Out of the blue. I thought I knew all his crazy moods, but this was a new one. He went on and on about his problems and then he just . . . invited me out.”

“I'm so sorry,” Gail said again. “Did you find another place in Los Angeles?”

“Not yet; I've been in Europe. I just wanted to get away. Everything was gone, you know; I didn't know what to do or who to turn to. He told me to get the hell out, so I did.”

“Without even packing?” asked Ned interestedly.

Dora looked at him vaguely. “Yes, I packed. I took my clothes. I went back to LA last week,” she said to Gail and Leo. “I had to fire my lawyer. He kept telling me what I
couldn't
do and
couldn't
get and
couldn't
even ask for. I think Josh got to him. That's why I came up here, to talk to Leo. You know lawyers, and you know Josh; I mean, the two of you got kind of tight, didn't you? Sometimes I thought he liked you better than me. So you have to tell me what to do. I've got to find somebody who won't be snowed by him.”

“I don't know what you want from him,” Leo said mildly.

“Something to show for all those years. If we'd been married for all that time and I was kicked out, I'd at least get money. So why shouldn't I get it now? Just because we
weren't married doesn't mean I didn't give him everything he wanted and entertain for him and cook for him—”

“You said you hated cooking,” Robin put in.

“Robin,” admonished Gail.

“I tried the best I could,” Dora said. “He didn't really care whether I cooked or not, you know; he was used to all that awful food on those digs of his. Anyway, what difference does it make? I did whatever he wanted, all the things a wife does, and we were together for all that time and he was happy . . . I know he was happy . . . he said
loving
things to me . . .” Tears spilled from her eyes and she pulled a handkerchief from her pants pocket. “I was happy, too, you know, and then he ruined everything, all my hopes, everything I cared about . . .”

Leo was frowning. “He didn't give you any warning at all? Or any reasons? That doesn't sound like Josh.”

“You're standing up for him, just like that lawyer! He snows people, Leo, that's what I said. They think he's wonderful, but they don't have to live with him. I need somebody on my side who'll stand up to him, somebody tough, somebody who cares whether women get a rotten deal or not. You must know somebody.”

“Dora, you know half of Los Angeles,” Leo replied. “You must know dozens of lawyers, or people who could recommend one.”

“Maybe Anne knows someone,” Gail said.

Dora glanced at Anne. “Why? Are you married to one?”

“Anne is a lawyer,” Gail said. “She specializes in divorce.”

Dora's look fastened on Anne. “Are you any good?”

“Dora,”
said Gail.

“I mean, do you get big cases and do you win them?”

“Of course she does,” Gail replied.

“Not unless she does her own talking.”

“I'm very busy right now,” Anne said coolly. “I doubt that I could take on a new client. I could recommend someone.”

“What firm are you with?”

“Engle, Saxon and Joute.”

“I've heard of them. They're as good as you can get. You'd recommend someone in the firm?”

“If you want. The person I was thinking of is in another firm.”

Dora sipped her iced tea. “Do you think I can win?”

“I have no idea. I don't know anything about you or about the man you've been living with.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Any agreements you've made, contracts you've signed, oral promises you've made to each other, statements you've made before witnesses, property you own in joint tenancy, the possessions you've accumulated.”

“That's the list?”

“That's a beginning.”

“This man you'd recommend; has he done cases like this?”

“Not that I know of. But he's strong and creative and he's interested in women getting a fair deal.”

“Have you done cases like this?”

“Yes.”

“Are you doing one now?”

“No.”

“When did you do the last one?”

“Two months ago.”

Dora's eyes narrowed. “Steve Hawthorne. That's right, isn't it? God, I didn't make the connection. Anne Garnett. You were the lawyer for his girlfriend. I read about you. You won.”

“Yes, but I told you, I'm not taking any new clients right now.”

Dora sat back. “Lawyers are always looking for interesting cases, aren't they? The kind that will help their careers? I mean, Steve Hawthorne was a big plum, but it wouldn't be bad to defend the daughter of a senator, would it?”

“I'm sorry,” Anne said.

“What would it take?” Dora asked. “Anne, listen. Please listen. I'm desperate. My whole life got turned upside down, just like that. One minute I thought I had a home and I knew what the future was, the next I had no place to live and I
didn't have any idea what the future would be like. I was out on the street and I was scared. I still am; I guess it takes more than a few months to believe in yourself and start over again.” She saw Anne's face change. “You do understand, don't you? Anne, please do it. I want you. I don't want anybody else. I like the way you talk and the way you look and I like what you've done. Anne, I feel awfully alone and I'm so ashamed . . . I mean, to be kicked out of your own home. . . . Anne, listen,
I need you.”

Anne looked past Dora, at the peaks stepping majestically to the horizon. So much space in the world, so many people, so many ways to avoid encounters. But she sat here, at this table, and opposite her was Vince's daughter, asking for help.
Vince's daughter
. I can't, she thought. I can't get this close to him. I wanted a family, not involvement.

But what do you think a family is, if not involvement? In all of it, not just the parts that are pretty and pleasant
.

If Dora weren't Vince's daughter, she would take her as a client in an instant. She was the only one in her firm who took these cases. So why let Vince, once again, determine what she would do? She had just decided she would never again let him force her from her family. Why would she let his presence determine whether or not she took a case that was exactly right for her?

He doesn't exist for me. I have a profession, I have a life, and now I have a family. I do what I want. And the past has nothing to do with it
.

“All right,” she said to Dora, and in that instant she felt she had taken a step in a journey whose ending she could not predict or imagine. “I'll be back in Los Angeles on Tuesday. And then we'll get to work.”

V
ery nice,” said Dora with a swift approving glance at the solid English furnishings in Anne's office. “And a good view, too. I suppose they save the corner offices for people who've been here longer.”

“Yes,” Anne said, amused.

“Well, I bet they make an exception for you; people say wonderful things about you, really impressive.” She sat in a leather chair facing Anne across her desk. “I asked a couple of people about you—you don't mind, do you? It's not that I didn't trust you, it's just that I'm so new at this I thought another opinion, well, two opinions, actually—anyway, they both said how lucky I was to get you. I didn't tell them we're related; I wanted them to think you took me because you're really interested in me and you think I have a good case, not because we're cousins . . . that is why you took me, isn't it? I mean, I'm not even sure whether I'm better or worse off with a relative. Oh, I didn't mean
worse;
what an incredibly stupid thing to say. I just meant, you might not put yourself out quite as much as you would with . . .”

Anne let the last word fade away. “I'm the best lawyer I can be for all my clients,” she said evenly.

“I know, I know that,” Dora said humbly. “I'm sorry I said that; I'm really so grateful . . .
really
grateful, you know; I really
need
you. Now, where should we start? What do you want me to tell you?”

Anne smiled at Dora's preoccupation with herself. She
wondered how much of her sweetness and charm was an act. Maybe all of it. Her father was an expert at that. A sudden wave of revulsion washed over her.
I can't do this. I never should have said I would
.

But Dora wasn't responsible for her father; she couldn't help it that she looked enough like him to give Anne a shock every time she smiled or turned her head a certain way; it was not her fault that, because of that resemblance, Anne found herself doubting her. She was part of the family, and most important, she needed Anne, and that was what Anne could not resist.

It was what had drawn her to the law in the first place and kept her satisfied all these years without family or close friends. Being needed. No one had ever needed her. Even Eleanor, wanting her friendship, had, in the end, needed her own family more. Anne had her clients. Many of them she did not like or admire, but that had nothing to do with it; they needed her. They sat in her office and tried to impress her with their honesty, uprightness, importance, lovable-ness, and how dreadfully they had been wronged. But behind their bluster and bravado, and their deliberate lies, they were reaching out for help. They wanted to be told what to do, and how and when to do it, and even when they disobeyed her, they kept coming back, asking for more instructions, more encouragement, more help. And they were almost always grateful.

“You can ask me anything,” said Dora. “I couldn't have secrets from you, and I wouldn't be ashamed of telling you anything because I know you'd understand and not laugh at me. I really trust you, Anne; I don't know where I'd be without you.”

Anne nodded. She was beginning to feel a lawyer's excitement as Dora spoke. Earlier, she had been so concerned with the resemblance to Vince that she had not been aware of the ingenuousness in Dora's charm, and the compelling sweetness in her smile. Now she felt the force of it, and she knew that Dora would be superb on the witness stand. She picked up her pencil. “Let's start with how you met this man. Joshua Durant.”

“Well.” Dora settled into the chair. “At Tamarack. Somebody introduced us at a party. He was just leaving. He doesn't like big parties, he'd only stopped by for a minute, but we started talking and then we went to dinner. And then we went to my place.”

“This was a little over three years ago?”

“Three years and two months.”

“So you started living together soon after you met.”