Chapter 24
Tessa
“I'm so glad you suggested this lunch.” Sally Ferdman fluffs her blond bob, scans her menu, and snaps it shut. She's the senior partner at my law firm and my unofficial mentor, and it’s taken us weeks to get this lunch on her calendar.
As a junior associate, I worked on her cases and studied how she calmly synthesized information and presented it convincingly at trial. Her work style is as impeccable as her dark pantsuits and carefully-applied coral lipstick.
“Thanks for doing this with me. I know you’re busy, so I really appreciate you taking the time.” I grimace at how my hands are flitting about and force them into my lap, staring as if admonishing them to stay put.
“Tessa.”
I look up at Sally’s pink lipstick smile. “Yes?”
“You seem nervous.”
“I-I’m…”
“It’s lunch. We’re colleagues, and we both have to eat.
Whatever you want to talk to me about stays between us.
” Her stare is intimidating until the corner of her mouth flinches, the only sign that she’s not 100 percent comfortable herself.
“But if this is where you tell me you’re not coming back after your maternity leave, you need to give me a moment.
” Her smile looks strained, and I realize for the first time that she really is worried about losing me as an employee.
“Oh. No. Of course I’m coming back! I’m just as committed to my career here as I always have been.”
She holds up a hand to stop me from emphasizing my commitment even more. “I see your passion, Tessa. And I know it’s a balancing act, work and family, but I have no doubt you’ll pull it off.”
I relax ever so slightly. “Thank you. I intend to give it my all. This is about something else. I’d love your advice on how to pitch a pro bono case to the senior partners.”
Sally’s face relaxes. “Oh, now you’re speaking my language. Tell me more.”
I take a quick moment to scan the menu. It was Sally's idea to go to a white tablecloth place down the street from our office in Century City.
It's where some of the partners meet with new clients, but I'm never the one who meets with those clients, so there hasn’t been a reason for me to come here.
I'm still pretty fond of McDonald's or the vending machine downstairs. Still eating my single girl dinners most nights, though I’ve added more protein and vegetables so the baby gets what it needs.
Everything on the menu looks delicious but expensive. I'm planning to treat Sally to lunch because I invited her, but as soon as we order, she hands her credit card to the server and tells me lunch is going on the company tab.
I order a Cobb salad, and Sally orders salmon and rice pilaf. Eating fish for lunch seems sophisticated, somehow, and I wonder if I’ll ever be the kind of person who does that. Doubtful.
“So tell me about this case. You know I have a soft spot for pro bono, and I’m always telling the partners we should up our quotient.”
“Really? I love that.”
I knew that. That’s why I asked her to lunch, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m stalking her.
“I can help you position it to get the senior partners on board, assuming I like the idea.” She laughs, as though the entire fortune of the town of Willow Springs doesn’t rest on my ability to present the merits of the case.
The firm is very selective about pro bono cases because they amount to free work for associates who otherwise bill at hundreds of dollars per hour.
“We only take on a couple of pro bonos per year, and those are passion projects. So tell me what it is about this town up north that got your attention.” Her easy smile belies how tough she is in the courtroom, and for a moment, I find myself drifting into a daydream about arguing on behalf of Willow Springs in front of a grand jury.
“Without a viable water supply, we are dooming the future of ranchers and farmers in California. We are all but guaranteeing they’ll need subsidies and welfare if they can’t farm the land the way they have for years.”
I finish making my case, and the spectators in the courtroom get to their feet and cheer.
Then I realize I’m in a restaurant with wineglasses on the tables and servers in bow ties carrying trays with silver plate covers.
Every table is full of people chatting and stabbing at plates of steak and pasta and kale salads, and I’m sitting here with my finger in the air like Tony the Tiger hearing applause in my head.
Sally sits patiently, so I lower my hand and list the cases I’ve found that set precedents for small businesses going up against a big corporation over arcane laws, specifically involving water rights.
I explain why the fights between neighbors could ruin decades of trust and camaraderie in the town.
I don’t make my points nearly as well as in my daydream, but I try.
“I think you're right to see it that way,” Sally says. “It shouldn't be neighbor against neighbor. That's exactly what these big corporations want. The more they divide a community against itself, the easier it is for them to scrape the splinters aside and do their bidding.”
“That was my thought. When people are out in the community together at a tamale stand or what have you, the bonds are clear. It’s as soon as they retreat to their separate plots of land and start worrying about how to get through the next crop season, everyone else is an enemy.
If I can join them in one class action suit against Tomahawk Corporation, their numbers start to feel powerful. ”
“They’re not going to drop their lawsuits against each other until the trust gets rebuilt. They need to understand that there's strength in numbers.”
“Well, sure. Do you think they really don’t know that?”
“It's not as obvious when you're in the trenches. Suspicion breeds suspicion. You'll fight against anyone who gets in your way, and that's exactly the problem.”
“It’s a shame,” I say. “Willow Springs is such a beautiful place. The way they steward the land is practically a religion. The largest rancher supplies a huge list of restaurants all over Southern California with the most gorgeous produce. Maybe it’s even served here.”
Even though I don’t mention Fitz by name, my skin warms at the thought of him.
I’m not about to tell Sally that one of those ranchers is the future father of my baby, lest she think I’m biased, but I can’t help letting my thoughts drift to Fitz and how much he cares about his land and the people in town.
“I’m just saying there's a lot of history there, and people used to have goodwill, but it's starting to splinter.”
I recall how passionate Fitz was about his land and the lawsuit against our family before I tried to convince him he was going after the wrong defendant.
That fire and passion could be directed at Tomahawk Corporation, but only if I handle things correctly.
I feel responsible for getting it right on his behalf.
On behalf of Willow Springs, where my sisters and I have taken over paying taxes on Loveland Ranch.
In a small way, I’m fighting for us too.
All the more reason I need Sally’s help.
“Okay, so once I get everyone into one room, I need to be able to reassure them and motivate them, so they know that they're in good hands, assuming we can take the case.” Under the table, I cross my fingers.
Our server brings our lunch and offers me ground pepper, but I tell him I’m fine, and he leaves Sally an extra dish of sauce for her fish that she didn’t even ask for. “I love that you always remember,” Sally says.
“My pleasure. Bon appétit.”
“Start by making that assumption,” Sally says, drizzling sauce on her fish.
“Act as if the firm will take the case and you will win it. There’s no room for second-guessing or waffling.
I can direct you where to look in the case law.
There have been several cases where a community has prevailed against a large corporation, and, unfortunately, several where they haven't, but we're not going to focus on those.”
“Okay. I can do that.” Even with ten years of experience practicing law, I feel like a neophyte sitting with Sally, who exudes confidence and can recite case law as if it were printed on the tablecloth.
But maybe that's part of the problem. I've followed a paint-by-numbers route that was put in front of me, and I haven't dared work outside the lines until now. It feels good to take a stab at something I feel passionate about.
“Okay, first question—what information do I need to present to the partners to get the firm to take on this pro bono case?”
Sally smiles at me. “I like your motivation and your can-do attitude.
I can set that up for you. There are a few basic pieces of information that you need to present when you build your case and make a formal proposal.
But first, let's nail down some specifics because the more you know about how you plan to argue the case, the better your chances of success. No one wants to take on a pro bono case for free and then lose.”
“I get that,” I say, not even thinking about the fact that I could lose this case. I have to win. It's too important.
I sip my iced tea and look around the room where everybody seems to be at a business lunch. Everyone in suits and ties. Unusual in a city where so many people wear jeans to work.
“Do you come to lunch here often?” I ask.
“Mostly with clients. It's one of the better places in the area. I like to be able to walk and not waste time driving halfway across town for a lunch meeting.”
“Makes sense to me.” I wonder when the day will come when I have my own clients and can stop working on other people’s cases. Then I realize that taking on the Tomahawk Corporation could be that very day.
Sally eats her salmon, barely paying attention to her plate, just taking bites and coming up with pieces of case law. I pull out a notepad to keep track of her suggestions, pausing only every few minutes for a forkful of salad.
“Someday I want to be you,” I blurt, not really intending to sound so obsequious, but I can't help it. Everything about what I'm seeing in front of me is tempting.
“Well, you're on your way, especially now that I see where your passion lies. I know it seems like a long time ago, but we saw potential when we hired you, and I’ve been waiting for something to spark. You’re allowed to love what you do, Tessa.
It doesn’t have to be a grind or just a job, but you need to find your passion in it.
I was on the hiring committee back then.
You may not know this, but I fought hard for you because I saw what you’re capable of when that passion ignites. ”
It's hard to believe she saw anything in me when I was a brand-new law school grad with little confidence and no idea what I planned to do with my future.
But the idea that she's been behind me all this time makes me realize I've been shortchanging myself by setting my own limitations on my potential.
It's something I noticed in Willow Springs. Or, rather, I noticed that people don't seem to set limits on their potential, even when it seems like they're fighting battles impossible to win.
“I really want to win this case,” I say. “And also, I plan to work just as hard after I have the baby, in case there’s concern about my commitment. And until my due date, I can bank extra hours, stay late, come in early, whatever it takes.”
“It's great to hear,” she says. “But if I can offer you one piece of advice, it’s to use your maternity leave to bond with your baby. Really enjoy it. Because once you have a nanny and you’re back on the partner track, you’ll miss so much of those early years. So get it while you can.”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch. All this time, I’ve been focusing on staying on track and making sure my career doesn’t take a hit once the baby comes, but this is the first time I’ve considered that motherhood might take a hit.
Sally must see concern on my face because she offers me a big grin.
“Oh, don’t look so worried. It’ll all work out. You have me in your corner. Meanwhile, enjoy your salad. Tell me about the rest of your life. What do you do for fun?”
Her question surprises me. I came armed with information about water rights, but I didn’t expect to talk about myself.
“Um…” I stutter. “You know, mostly I work.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? You know, that's not good for someone your age, or any age for that matter.”
She’s almost done with her lunch, and I’ve only had a couple of bites of my salad. Talking about my life outside of work pretty much kills the rest of my appetite.
I don't want to ask how old she is, but I’d guess she's about 20 years my senior, and I wonder what her personal life consists of. From the firm bio page I know she has a degree from Harvard and has practiced at this firm for most of her career.
“Do you have a lot of hobbies outside of this place?” I ask, feeling like I’m prying.
“Oh yes. It's necessary. I play mahjong on Mondays.
I'm in two book clubs. I have a gal gang of travelers who love to see the world, and we plan a trip at least twice a year.
I also travel with my husband, and I'm really involved with our two kids even though they're in high school and barely know I exist. That doesn't stop me from showing up at every soccer game and school play when they're involved.
That's what allows me to come back to work with all the energy I have.”
The more she talks, the more I realize I do have things in my life that refill my cup. Working on plans for the ranch, cooking for my sisters, gardening with Fitz, and soon, motherhood. I need to stop seeing myself as one-dimensional.
“I always thought that working hard was the whole point at this stage of my career,” I admit.
Sally shakes her head emphatically and pushes her plate away. “It’s only part of the point. The rest is up to you.”