Memory Three
MEMORY THREE
MARIE
“We really should stop meeting like this.” Yet again the elevator doors opened again at the last minute and my English foe stepped through them, suited and booted in an unmistakably delicious way.
It hadn’t escaped me yesterday that Callaghan junior was two things: devilishly handsome and seriously fucked up. I’d done a little more digging for information from my father over dinner last night, finding out that his wife had overdosed while she’d been in bed and there had been a suspicion of suicide, although the death had finally been declared accidental. The children were wild and Grant’s dad was worried about them, considering staging his own intervention or at least one on his behalf, and Grant hadn’t been himself since he’d become a widower.
Which was understandable and sometimes I noticed how much we forgot that we weren’t robots, programmed just to work and be as successful as possible.
“How was your evening? Sleep any better?” We were clearly going to make small talk so I embraced it.
He nodded but didn’t look happy about it. “More than the night before. I don’t feel like something dragged up from the sewer as much today.”
“How are your kids?”
He shook his head and looked away from me. “Problematic. Max has been kicked out of school.”
“He’s the eldest, isn’t he? What did he do?” One of my brothers was also kicked out of school. Two schools actually. No one was surprised. He was now at university studying theology. Everyone was surprised by that.
“Punched a kid who was being mean to Jackson – one of his brothers.” Grant shook his head. “I’ll need to find somewhere else for him for September when the schools go back and it might have to be boarding school.”
“Really?” This really was none of my business. “Don’t you think he’d rather be with his siblings?”
Grant froze, his expression dark and angry. “It isn’t really anything to do with you, is it?”
I was used to dealing with cranky men. “It isn’t. But you’ve told me about it and you made me curious. I asked my father about you and he told me your dad was worried about your kids and you, so maybe you do need some help.” My temper simmered. I knew all about big families and how the dynamics worked, how hard they could be and how complicated.. It took a village to raise kids, which was how it worked back home in Ireland, and there was no way he could manage this on his own.
“Fuck.” He fussed with his tie. “I don’t need my dad meddling. He’ll have them all shipped off to boarding school.”
“You don’t want that, do you?”
The lift stopped on the twelfth floor, the doors opening onto a quiet floor.
“No. I went to boarding school. It was okay but - ” he shrugged. “The local primary school isn’t what I want for Max and the private school he was at was the only one close enough to our house in Oxfordshire.”
“Why don’t you have them live in London and go to Oxfordshire at the weekend and for holidays. Then they see you and there are loads of schools to pick from. And childcare.” I thought about Callum, the youngest and how he was pretty much an orphan.
Grant shook his head. “They’ll distract me from working.”
“Then don’t work as much.”
“You’re not a parent. You don’t get to tell me how to bring up my kids.”
“I’m an older sister in a family of nine. I raised the youngest two.” Both of whom were doing well at college, about to also go to university.
He cast a frown my way and disappeared into Meeting Room Three. I sighed and headed into the coffee room, needing to stock up on caffeine before Polly and Colin arrived.
I’d been accused of interfering on many occasions by my siblings and some of my cousins. I didn’t feel bad about it, or shrouded myself in guilt at any point because the intention was to help and usually I did.
For the next few hours though, I’d be helping my clients, not the opposing side’s representative. I got my head back in the game, confident that I could get the best possible result for Polly, even if she was an utter bitch most of the time.
The first hour was spent with Colin and Polly going through the main points of their case, the key aspects and areas that were weak. I’d decided not to act like a junior solicitor and to project that I knew what I was doing and I was confident in it. Imposter syndrome had been real the last few months and I’d questioned whether I was only working for this law firm because of who my father was. It had taken my mother to tear me a new one when she finally got it out of me what was bothering me.
“Do you really think your dad would risk the reputation of his firm to employ you if you were shit? Get real, Marie Evelyn Kathleen Green. You had to be twice as good as anyone else because you’ll be judged twice as hard.”
It’d hit home, my mother’s thick accent banging around in my head whenever the doubt set in.
“You’re advising that we split equally with them?” Polly repeated the same question she’d asked at least five times already, just with different phrases.
“Pretty much. Ultimately, there’s nothing to say who the land originally belonged to, which disadvantages you both equally. You’re both wanting to build offices on it and your proposed designs are similar so we have common ground. I know you’re not risk adverse, but my recommendation is to settle today on a compromise agreement, else I think you’re risking a lot of money and you’re not guaranteed to win outright.” I’d typed up the proposal for them last night so they’d been able to consider it as soon as they came in.
Polly looked at Colin. “I still maintain the land is ours.”
Colin looked at me. “You’ve said there’s no evidence of who it belongs to?”
“There’s nothing substantial either way.” I nodded, watching the dynamics between them with interest.
“I think we take her advice, Polly.” He looked almost scared as he spoke to his wife.
Polly stood up and walked out.
Silence fell like stones. I waited for Colin to speak. We were due to start the mediation in fifteen minutes and I didn’t want to be the one to delay proceedings.
“Do you need to go after her?” I finally broke the quiet.
“No. She’ll just get angry with me.” He sounded broken. “Does your company do family law?”
I nodded slowly. “We have a family solicitor based in London.”
Colin stared at the table. “I think I want a divorce. I can’t stand being bossed about by her anymore.”
“Your businesses and property – is it just in your name or joint?”
“My name. But Polly and I have been married fifteen years, so she’ll have a claim and she’ll say she’s the one who’s grown the company and made the investments. I could lose everything.”
“Not necessarily.” Family law was what I’d wanted to go into, but the seat my father had wanted me in was property litigation. I had specialised in family law at college and during my training. My hope was that we’d expand the family law department and I could move over to there, or build on the department in London.
“Really?”
I nodded. “Let’s get this mediation out of the way and you and I can discuss it in more detail afterwards. I’ll be over in London in another few weeks so we could make an appointment for then.”
“That would be good.” He stirred in his chair. “I’d better go and find her, hadn’t I? She’ll be having a strop in the toilets probably.”
I nodded. “The sooner we start, the sooner it’s finished. I’ll go and see how the other side are doing and if the mediator’s ready.”
It was good to be out of the meeting room with its oppressive atmosphere and undertone of dissatisfaction – with everything. I wondered how Grant was getting on with his clients, hoping he wasn’t going to pull anything funny out of the bag at the eleventh hour with suggestions that would send Polly up like a firework and all of us all the way to court.
He was already in meeting room five with the mediator, a man I’d met a few times before on other cases and liked. He reminded me of my grandfather back in Ireland, all soft words and smiles, with an undercurrent of steel woven through. He was called Michael and when I walked into the room, he and Grant were sharing a joke.
“Here she is – Marie. How are you? Looking lovely as ever.” He stood up and offered me his hand.
I took it, giving him a smile he’d think was sweet and I knew was deadly. I hated how my physical appearance was always commented on by older men, as if that was what made me. Michael would never say ‘here’s Grant, looking as handsome as ever’ – although I wished he would.
But I knew better than to go to war on this. Being a pretty Irish colleen allowed for me to be under-estimated, which ultimately reversed the power. I’d take the comment on how I was looking lovely.
“I’m well. How are you? How’re Sebastian and Emilie?” I always made a point of asking after his grandkids who were about the same age as me.
Michael nodded, affable as ever. “Seb’s moving to New York in a month. He’s joining Arthur Deayton Accountants, so I might finally be able to get you two on a date.” He’d been threatening to match me up with Seb for years. I’d met him once and he definitely wasn’t my type – short, fair and already balding. He’d also made it known that he expected any future wife to give up work completely and become a homemaker.
I had no issue with women who chose to do that – each to their own and whatever made them happy, but it wasn’t for me.
“She’s on a date tonight, aren’t you Marie?” Grant chose that moment to chime in.
“I am. Shall we get started with this mediation then?” I shot Grant a look of death. “I know all parties would like to have a conclusion before the end of the day.”
“Absolutely,” Grant sat up a little straighter. “Wouldn’t want work to get in the way of your love life.”
“Now, Grant. I know you’re both young, but you can still be professional. Let me have a coffee - Marie, would you get that for me? – and then we can begin.”
I waited until Grant had left the meeting room and then told Michael where he could get his own coffee from, which he took better than I’d anticipated, thankfully.
When I went back into our base, Polly was back with Colin, looking irritated and sulky.
“Have you made any further decisions?” I looked at Colin first, then glanced briefly at his wife.
It was Polly who responded of course. “We’ll take your advice. Even with your worst-case scenario projection, the profit is healthy and the time needed is minimal.”
I nodded, pleased. “It may be we settle for something that’s more beneficial – plan B and C would be very good outcomes.” I talked them through the stages I’d be going through, one of the junior lawyers joining me at this point, who was mainly there for his experience and to help me with any photocopying or find references if I needed them. I did as much as I could to get him up to speed and then braced myself for the beginning.
The end came some eight hours later, by which time we were on Plan C – still better than the worst-case scenario – and my hair would need some serious taming before my date, mainly due to how much I’d been pulling it throughout the day.
Grant Callaghan was an absolute poxy langer, diving into each detail, requiring references, pretending he didn’t have a key document which I could evidence had been received by his secretary. He malingered over nuances that weren’t worth delving into, to the extent that even Michael started to get irritated with him.
It was a tell though.
“I don’t think the opposition are as secure as they’ve made out,” I announced to Polly and Colin when we headed into the evening.
“What makes you say that?” Polly looked like she was about to wrestle me to the ground for more information.
“They’re stalling on moot points. I’m going to push for plan C. Are you both happy with that?” I didn’t want to give them more details than that, sensing that if Polly spotted a weakness, she’d push to go to court and that wouldn’t be the best course, cost-wise. I did think that one of the deeds the opposite side had produced wouldn’t stand up to further scrutiny and could in fact backfire. I also had the sense that Grant had just figured this out too.
He was waiting for me outside Michael’s room, holding out a mug of tea which he presented to me.
“You don’t budge, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not when I know I’m about to peak.”
His eyes danced as if I’d said something dirty, a flicker of amusement. I’d had to put him in a metaphorical box all day so as not to be distracted by him. He was attractive, even more so than I’d first thought. He was also quick-witted and had a sense of humour that had surfaced as the morning had gone on. He’d also brought me almost continuous cups of tea, as if he was trying to prove a point.
If I’d been short on resolve, I’d have spent the afternoon simply staring at him.
But resolve wasn’t something I was short on.
“Have you peaked yet or are you saving that for your date?”
I didn’t even shake my head. “How are your clients?”
“Tetchy. They don’t want this to go to court.” He nodded towards the room where his clients remained.
“Their case is falling apart. The deed they’re basing all this on isn’t going to hold up.” I sipped the tea. It was good and strong and unsweetened, just how I liked it. “You know, you could get yourself a side job as a brewer-upper.”
“Don’t go there. I’m seriously considering living off my inheritance and staying at home to teach my kids myself. Jackson’s refused to go to school today because he’s scared with Max not being there, so Claire won’t go either. I phoned home when we were on lunch.” His pep faded away.
“I told you my thoughts. Move them with you to London. Plenty of schools, plenty of hired help. And you can be a parent which they need.” I wondered if my next cup of tea made by him would be spiked with laxatives.
He was quiet. “I’m not sure I know how to parent.”
“No one knows how to parent. Mine had no idea but they did pretty well. They loved us and listened to us. We spent summers on the west coast of Ireland, running wild with frozen toes and red cheeks along the beach and through the dunes. I don’t think anything will ever beat that, even a holiday on a tropical island.” I did love those holidays with my siblings even if they hadn’t been glamorous.
My attention went back to Grant, who was looking at me as if he was seeing something he hadn’t known was there before. “What?”
He smiled, making me paranoid that I had something stuck between my teeth.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He looked away. “Who’s your date with?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He rubbed his face as if he was trying to rub sense into himself. “I’m curious what sort of man you’d go out with.”
“Who says it’s a man?” I shot him my most favourite grin and walked into the room where Michael was.
We reached a settlement half an hour before I was meant to meet my date, who was indeed a man. I called the bar to pass on a message that I was running late, before diving into the toilets to get changed and apply make-up that would make me look less like I’d spent a day in some rather sweaty rooms. My clients were happy and it looked like the outcome would be Plan B-point-five. Grant’s clients looked relieved, which did make me wonder whether I should’ve pushed harder but there was a line you could cross if you were too greedy and in this instance I didn’t think I’d crossed it.
The elevator doors opened and I saw Grant in there already. It’d been me this time who’d stopped it from heading off.
“We really should stop meeting like this.” I checked my reflection in the mirrored walls, feeling confident. I looked good and even if an adrenaline crash was possible in a couple of hours, I felt good now.
He looked me up and down, his eyes coming to rest on my face. “Where are you going?”
“A bar round the corner. I know the staff so if I don’t like my date, I’m not in an awkward position.” My mother had told me countless horror stories of dates in New York going wrong. She’d instilled enough fear in me to make sure I always had a safety plan.
Tonight though, I was hoping for some action. My lady parts were possibly full of cobwebs, it had been that long, and my date was exceedingly attractive. I had no idea if he was intelligent or could carry a conversation, but that didn’t matter. Tonight was not about the talking.
“Good plan. Who’s your date?”
“Nosey, aren’t you?”
“It’s someone you’ve made an effort for.”
“Is that your way of saying I scrub up well?”
“If that’s how you want to take it.” His grin was dirty. Too dirty.
“You don’t need to know how I take it.” Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t flirt with other lawyers and there were no two ways about it: this was flirting.
“Maybe I’d like to find out.” He put it out there.
I paused. Took a breath. Composed myself. Grant Callaghan was undeniably one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever met, but he was currently my mortal enemy – if we were being dramatic – and a single dad to four wild kids.
“I don’t date lawyers.”
“I didn’t mention a date.”
Thankfully, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, my dad entering along with a man I figured was Grant’s father as the resemblance was too striking for otherwise.
“Marie, you look pretty. Off out?”
I smiled at my dad, nodding. “A date, but don’t worry – I won’t be late for work in the morning.” And with that, I ran from everybody.
Especially Grant Callaghan.