First Dance - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 03] Page 2

  Schmidt grunted at her and she nodded back as she passed him on her way to her office, navigating the sea of dark mahogany tables, tasteful green plants and leather seating.

  Belker, the younger partner, had covered the walls of the firm with his dour, very minor, old-master Flemish paintings, which Viv referred to collectively as the sourpusses. Belky, unlike Schmidt, had been divorced twice and had given each wife a considerable amount of money for his freedom. But since the firm dumped more on him by the truckload, he didn't seem to mind overly much.

  Unfortunately Belky had a thing for Viv's assistant Andie, a former client whom she'd hired in an un- wise moment of sympathy. She'd negotiated a fabulous settlement for Andie, the bulk of which was her husband's 2.3-million-dollar house. Unfortunately he'd stopped making the insurance payments on it and burned it down with himself inside it.

  Andie was terribly sweet and had a way with Viv's usually upset female clients, whom she plied with tea and sympathy and great gossip.

  Belker was sitting on the corner of her desk with his scrawny knees apart when Viv appeared, his chest puffed out like a rooster's. "I had the judge in the palm of my hand," he said, eyeing Andie's plump assets in their tight black sweater. "Had her purring ."

  "Good morning," Viv interrupted him, hardly able to refrain from rolling her eyes.

  " 'Morning!" Andie sang.

  Belker nodded coolly and removed his vile, skinny buns from their perch. "Ah, Vivien," he said. "I have something to discuss with you."

  Ugh . She didn't want to discuss anything with Belky other than a promotion and a raiseor taking some of the six weeks of vacation owed to her by the firm.

  "Certainly, Howard," Viv told him, accepting the stack of phone messages Andie handed her.

  Belky followed her into her office, picking at the dead skin on his left handcaused by his psoriasis.

  She averted her gaze and crossed her arms in front of her, waiting for him to begin, as tiny little flakes of his flesh spiraled toward her carpet. The same carpet she walked on in stocking feet when she worked late.

  "You may not be aware, Vivien, that I've just taken on the divorce case of one Samuel Buckheimer."

  "Congratulations," she said, infusing her voice with just the right amount of cordiality.

  "Yes, well. Sam owns a couple of large operations both here in New York and in Florida. Greyhound tracks. And he happened to come across your name as a large donor to"

  Viv felt her face freezing. "Oh, he did, did he?"

  "Yes. He was very pointed in his questioning. Frankly, it was embarrassing."

  "Howard. While I feel for you being put in such a position, I must respectfully say that my personal donations or activities outside the firm are a private matter."

  "I'd just like you to think about it, Vivien. Okay?"

  "He's also being represented by you , not me."

  "He's concerned about any of his money adding to er, your bottom line. Since you two are philosophically opposed," said Belky smoothly.

  Viv gritted her teeth. "Yes, that we certainly are. I don't think that the torture, starvation and neglect of animals for profit is acceptable. Do you?"

  Her boss ignored the question. "Great work on the Alderson case, by the way," he said to soften her up.

  "Thank you."

  "See you at the meeting later."

  "Yes."

  Viv glared at his hunched little back as he left her office, trailing more tiny bits of his decayed flesh. This wasn't the first run-in they'd had over work she did outside of Klein, Schmidt and Belker. As far as he was concerned, pro bono activities were a waste of time, unless they were accompanied by the firm's name in huge letters and reported in the media.

  She'd learned that it was useless to lobby Klein, Schmidt for charitable contributions, unless they involved a fat tax write-off and good spin.

  Vivien sighed and began to return phone calls, eyeing the towering stack of briefs and files on her credenza. Just a little light reading to pass the time She glanced at her watch. She had less than twenty minutes before her first appointment.

  She'd resolved a couple of issues with one client and left a message returning another one's call when Andie buzzed through. "Miss Sydney Spinelli is on line four."

  "Okay, thanks." Viv punched the button. "Syd? I was just going to call you."

  "Vivien! How are you? How's your mother?"

  "I'm fine. She's fine. You?"

  "I'm great, actually." And Syd Syd! actually giggled. "I'm still here in Fredericksburg. I've, uh, met someone."

  "Well, I hope you're not going to marry the guy after a week," Viv said dryly.

  "Not yet," Syd chirped.

  Syd never chirped. She, like Viv, had studied the entire time that Viv, Julia and Sydney had spent at boarding school in Massachusetts. Well, she'd played field hockey, too. She'd never gotten into trouble, that was for sure. And she'd never been upbeat and bubbly, like her sister. But today, Sydney's voice could almost be mistaken for Julia's.

  "Syd, what is going on down there in Texas? Julia's wearing this fake rock, and she believes this BS story about the grandmother hocking it without anyone's knowledge?"

  "Yup. And I can't talk any sense into her. I've been accused of jealousy and meddling. And now that I've met Alex, I especially can't say anything to her, because she throws my own romance into my face. Viv, you're Julia's best friend. You're the Ball-Busting Bitch of Manhattan. The New York Post said so."

  Viv glanced at the framed copy of the article that she'd proudly hung on her wall. Her lips twitched at the unflattering photo, which made her look like Dracula's trailer-trash mistress on a bender.

  "You have to come down here and reason with her," said Sydney. "At least get her to sign one of those ironclad prenups of yours. This Roman guy says he's head over heels for Julia, but he's expanding the family vineyard and looking for cash to do itI heard him say it myself. He thinks we're like a blue-collar version of the Hilton sisters: the Marv's Motor Inn heiresses."

  "Syd, if she didn't respond well to you talking with her, she won't listen to me, either. I'm not even family."

  "She'll listen to you because there's no sibling rivalry involved. And you're so frighteningly businesslike. You just tell her you want to protect her legally. You say, 'Here, Julesy, sign on this dotted line and I'll take care of the rest.' "

  Andie buzzed through. "Mrs. Bonana is here for your eight thirty."

  "Okay, thanks," Viv told her. "Can you put her in one of the small conference rooms?"

  "They're all full."

  "Oh. All right. Send her in." Viv went back to Sydney. "Look, hon, I'm glad you think I'm frightening, but I doubt that even I can scare Julia into doing something she doesn't want to do. That dent in her chin means, as you very well know, that she's stubborn. And she's also a bona fide romantic. Plus, as usual, I'm up to the eyeballs in work right now, and I'll be lucky if I can get away to be there for the wedding."

  Andie brought a dubiously sun-streaked brunette to her office door. Viv nodded and held up a finger.

  "Please, Viv. You've got to do something."

  "Syd, it sounds as if you might need a prenup soon yourself, doll."

  "Oh, no. Alex is completely trustworthy."

  Viv groaned. "See what I mean? And you don't think your sister will have the same reaction?"

  "No, really, this is different."

  How many times had Viv heard that before? "I've got to goI have an appointment."

  "Please say you'll think about coming down and talking to her. I can't do anything else. It's all up to you."

  "I'll think about it," Viv promised, more to get off the phone than anything else.

  "Okay. Thanks."

  She hung up the phone and smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Bonana, who looked a little manic and frayed around the edges. "Hi. I'm Vivien Shelton. What can I do for you?"

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Twenty minutes later, Viv had a full-fledged migrain
e from hell, and Mrs. Bonana was half hysterical and sipping a fourth cup of coffee, which wasn't helping her nerves.

  "Let me get this straight," Viv said, removing her black, rectangular glasses and rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "You legally married a chimpanzee. With a judge present, and signatures on an actual, binding document."

  "Yes. I married Seltzer to protect him, and so I could have him in my house in spite of the zoning laws, and now"

  "What was the judge smoking at the time of the wedding?"

  "Pardon?"

  "Never mind."

  "Now Seltzer has bitten my neighbor, who was only trying to put back some of my mail that went to her house by mistake. And she's always been so sweet. She used to make him banana cream pies! But now she wants to sue me, and so I've got to get a divorce. Instantly ."

  "Mrs. Bonanais that your name or, uh, Seltzer's?"

  "Well. I gave it to him so he had a legal surname. But then I changed mine through the courts to match his."

  "I see." Viv massaged her temples. "Well, the thing is, that married or notand I'll need to check for sure, but I strongly doubt this marriage is valid Seltzer is an animal. A pet. Which technically makes him your property under New York law. And even if you divorce him now, he was still your property at the time of the biting incident. Which makes you responsible for his behavior, and therefore vulnerable to your neighbor's suit."

  "But what if Seltzer and I were legally separated at the time?"

  "You were still technically married. And even if that marriage is invalid, he's still your pet, which makes you liable for his actions." Vivien's head was starting to spin. "Wait. I have to ask. How did you get a judge to legally marry you, and what was his name?"

  "Oh, he was the sweetest thing, and he thought it was a great joke."

  Viv's heart sank. She had a feeling she knew who it was.

  "His name is Barclay Phelps."

  "Disbarred in 1998 for being drunk off his auh, bench during court for months at a time. I know Barclay." He's even asked me out .

  "Isn't he a doll?"

  "A doll. Yes. Oh, absolutely." There was no reasoning with this crazed woman. And she definitely didn't want to know anything further about this happy couple's personal life together

  "So what am I going to dooooooo ?" wailed Mrs. Bonana, gazing piteously at Viv. "My neighbor wants my husband executed !"

  That did tug at Viv's heartstrings. She didn't want to see the animal put down for defending his territory. "Does Seltzer have rabies?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "And the neighbor came into your yard."

  "Yes."

  "Was she threatening Seltzer in any way?"

  "Just waving my mail."

  "Could he have taken that as a threat, perhaps?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Good. Is the yard fenced, with a gate she had to open?"

  "Yes."

  "Excellent. I don't think that she can legally force you to put Seltzer down. Only the state can decide that, and we'd have a pretty good case under the circumstances."

  "Oh, thank God!" Mrs. Bonana dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed hankie.

  "Now, about this bite. Is it infected? Has it caused any type of blood disease or the amputation of the arm?"

  "I don't think so. But she's claiming trauma and mental anguish or something. She has a weak heart. It may have worsened her angina, she says."

  "Mmmmm. Mrs. Bonana, I'm a divorce attorney, and quite frankly I'm expensive. You don't need a divorce for an invalid marriage, and this is not my area of expertise. Though Klein, Schmidt and Belker can certainly handle the case for you, you may wish to look elsewhere for representation." Viv prayed silently. Please scram, you wacko .

  Mrs. Bonana sniffed and stuck out her lower lip. "But I like you, Ms. Shelton. You're nice and frighteningin a good way, you understandand you have quite the reputation." She gazed pointedly at the New York Post clipping. "Andie says you're the best."

  Thanks, Andie . Vivien sighed inwardly. I am so screwed . The woman wasn't going to go away. "I, ah, like you, too, Mrs. Bonana."

  After another appointment, Viv was able to snarf a protein bar at her desk and down half a bottle of lukewarm water before heading to one of the now-free small conference rooms to take a deposition from client Siegfried Klempt. She hoped that dear Sieggie wasn't going to get uerklempt during the process. His wife had left him for another woman.

  Sieggie, as it turned out, was far, far from ver-klempt. He was dancing a green-faced Andie around the polished maple conference table, much to her dismay.

  "What is going on here?" Viv demanded.

  Sieggie released Andie, who coughed, gagged and fled. "Ms. Shelton! How sharming to zee you again." Klempt staggered toward her, wearing a suit that looked as if he'd slept in it for the last three days. His eyes were bloodshot, his face covered with gray-

  m

  ing bristle, and she had a feeling she really didn't want to touch the hand he extended.

  But Klempt's breath was the crowning horror: It positively blew the hair off her head. No wonder poor Andie had turned green and gagged. She deserved combat pay.

  "Mr. Klempt, you are in no condition to render a deposition this morning."

  "Ssshharp as a talc," he said solemnly.

  "Yes, I can see that." Viv went to the phone. "Andie? An entire pot of black coffee, please. You can send it with one of the male runners, doll. Thanks."

  "Care to danssh?"

  " No , Mr. Klempt. Have a seat." Viv eyed him sternly and wondered just how bad this day was going to get. Her frightening-in-a-good-way image served her well in this instance, since he pulled out a chair with an unsteady hand and collapsed into it.

  "She's gone," he announced to nobody in particular. "Doggone."

  She assumed he was speaking of his wife. "Yes, I'm sorry. She is. But there are other barracuda in the sea, Siegfried. She wasn't very nice to you."

  "Neither was my first wife. I liked hie the familiarity of that."

  Viv patted him on the shoulder, standing upwind of his breath. Her next call was to the receptionist, Cleo. "Cleo, it's Viv. Could you please call Maurice and get him to swing by here for a, um, incapacitated client? He'll need to take him home and probably put

  FIRST DANCE

  him into his bed. I know that's not in his job description, but he'll have to get over it. Yes. Thanks."

  Viv didn't bother trying to reschedule Siegfried's appointment just yet. He wouldn't remember it. The runner arrived with the coffee, and she left him to babysit until Maurice's arrival. Perks of the job

  Back in her office, there was a note from Belky: Buckheimer walked. Thanks for your team efforts . Viv balled up the piece of paper in her hand and threw it angrily into the trash. Jerk. Belky was one of the reasons she disliked her job. He was always trying to throw her a curveballand it was thanks to him that she'd ended up having to defend Kiki Sonntag Douglas's ex-husband in court. She had no fond memories of the man she'd dubbed Walter the Wanker, but he was a golfing buddy of Belky's.

  The image of Kiki's Texas attorney (who'd worked with her New York attorneys) appeared far too often in her mind's eyeeven after three years, J.B. Anglin had the power to haunt her. She hadn't been so nice to him the last time they'd seen each other, which was another reason she didn't want to go anywhere near Fredericksburg, Texas. As the Sonntag family attorney, the man would no doubt be at Julia's wedding!

  Viv didn't blushit was physically impossible for her to do so, since nothing shocked herbut her heart beat faster at the thought of encountering J.B. again. God had been unjust to women when he'd fused the looks of Matthew McConaughey with those of Jude Law, put the result in cowboy boots and turned him loose. Yes, God had played a cruel joke, but it got even worse: Viv had seen J.B. Anglin naked.

  Do. Not. Think. About. That. Man.

  To distract herself, Viv glared again at the wadded piece of paper in her trash can. She was not going to be intimidated or coerced out
of her charitable donations to causes she believed in. Speaking of whichshe looked at her watchshe'd better get the rest of those phone calls returned, since she had a luncheon to attend for the Displaced Homemakers' Association of New York.

  She worked mostly for women, deliberately so. And she found it very disturbing that many of them, in the event of divorce, were so ill prepared to return to the workforce after years of being wives and mothers. Viv did everything she could for her local chapter, from making financial contributions to leading training seminars and doing pro bono legal work.

  Viv returned all her calls, adding to the latest game of phone tag with one opposing counselor who refused to speak with her in person and whose legal secretary left obtuse messages with Andie.

  She was pushing back from her desk and grabbing her purse when Andie buzzed through again with Syd Spinelli on the line.

  "Have you thought about it?" asked Sydney.

  "Syd"

  "She's been there for you when you needed her."

  "Yes, she has, but I can't just leave work in the

  FIRST DANCE

  middle of the week." Viv's gaze fell on the balled-up note from Belky again. Or could she?

  "Why not? You hate your job anyway."

  "Pretty much everybody hates their jobs sometimes. That's no excuse to"

  She saw little scraps of skin falling on her carpet first. And then Belky's custom-made wing tips. Oh, not again! What did he want now? Why couldn't he get some kind of intestinal disorder and be trapped on the throne, away from her?

  "Viv, I made you a flight reservation for this afternoon. You fly out of JFK at four twenty-two p.m. on American. At this point we only have two weeks to either stop this wedding or at least get Jules's signature on a prenup. I hate to be pushy but she needs you."

  It was true. She owed it to Julia to at least try to protect her.