This was a tough case, and one she didn’t feel the new associate was prepared to handle alone. And one that Rebecca wanted to win, not only for her client, but for herself, as well.
“When is the trial scheduled?” she asked, an idea skirting around the fringes of her mind. A dangerous idea with a steep price tag.
Jillian flipped through the file. “Two months. We have most of the pretrial discovery completed.”
Rebecca nodded. Two months would allow her to see the plan forming executed. “What about phone bills? Do we have them yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Get them,” Rebecca instructed. “We can use them as evidence that our client has attempted to maintain contact with his children. Also get in touch with the child support unit in the County Clerk’s Office. I want verification of all his support payments over the last ten years. Subpoena the clerk into trial if you have to. You’ll be second chairing this one.”
Jillian smiled, the excitement of stepping into a courtroom for an actual trial evident. She nodded, then jotted notes on a legal pad.
Rebecca checked her watch. If she closed the meeting now she might be able to catch Victor Furnari before he scooted out of the office for his standard two-hour lunch with the other senior partners. She needed her head examined for what she was considering.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, scanning the group.
When no one spoke, she stood and scooped a sheaf of papers into her out box. The associates took the action as a signal for the end of their meeting and gathered their files.
“I wanted to discuss the settlement conference on the Barker divorce.” Lee, the more senior of the associates, was close to becoming a junior partner. She liked him. He was ambitious and smart. He could be sympathetic or brutal in the courtroom, a skill that afforded him an excellent track record.
“Can it wait until tomorrow, Lee?” she asked, rounding her desk and heading for the door.
“Sure,” he said, following her. “We don’t go before Judge Holden for another week.”
“Check with Laura,” she said, closing her office door. “Tell her I said to squeeze you in tomorrow.”
She dropped a file on Laura’s desk, then went directly to the elevators that would take her up to the offices of the senior partners. She stepped off the elevator into the plush reception area with its soft gray carpeting and elegant furnishings. Understated artwork adorned rich mahogany-paneled walls. She nodded a greeting to the receptionist and turned left toward Victor Furnari’s office.
She approached the open door and peered inside. Victor stood before a miniconference table, a mug of coffee in his hand as he examined a variety of photographs. “Victor?” she called softly, not wanting to startle him.
He turned and smiled at the sound of her voice. “Come in, Rebecca. I was just trying to decide which of these would best sway the court into believing my client’s husband is hiding assets. What do you think? This thirty-thousand-dollar piece of horse flesh he ‘gifted’ his brother, or this receipt for a little five-carat bauble the tabloids reported he gave to his leading lady last week.”
She stepped into the office that had more masculinely elegant furnishings. “Why not both?” she suggested, coming to stand next to her boss.
“Because?” Victor challenged, indicating a chair at the table.
“Simple,” she said and sat. “I would attempt to establish Cristina Howard as the poor wife of a philandering husband.” She glanced at the blowup of the exclusive jewelry store receipt. “Go for the sympathy angle, Victor. No matter how sexist is it, especially since you have a woman judge. Another woman can easily relate to a woman who’s worked two jobs to put her husband through school. I doubt that it’d matter Mr. Howard chose acting lessons over med school.”
“Good choice,” Vic said, lifting his mug in salute.
When she’d first started at Denison, Ross & Furnari, Victor Furnari had been a brutal taskmaster, constantly throwing challenges in front of her. It hadn’t taken long for her to prove herself, and as a result she’d been given the esteemed honor of second chairing his trials. After Victor had taken ill during a particularly difficult case, Rebecca had stepped in and won the case and many that followed, resulting in her eventual status of junior partner. She loved her job, despite her father’s reference to her ambitions as wasted Martinson talent.
“So what brings you up here today?” He sat in one of the conference chairs and faced her. “Certainly not a burning desire to discuss the Howard divorce,” he added with a chuckle.
She gave him a thin smile. No, her purpose for breaching the walls of Mahogany Row were much more important than the divorce of one of Hollywood’s hottest actors. “I need to take a leave of absence.”
His salt-and-pepper brows pulled into a curious frown. “For how long?” he asked, setting his mug on the table.
“I’m not sure,” she said. She wasn’t certain her outrageous plan would see fruition, but she had to try. “I was thinking four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” His frown deepened when she remained silent. “Are you asking me to grant your request without asking for an explanation?”
She gave a humorless chuckle. “I had hoped.”
Victor stood, crossed the room and closed the door. “You’ve worked for me for a long time,” he said coming back to sit across from her. “You know whatever happens in this office stays in this office, but I can’t go to the other partners for approval without an explanation.”
This was one part of her plan she’d been dreading. There were court appearances to reschedule or shift to the associates under her supervision. She had a bench trial for support modification scheduled for next week, but she was confident Lee, or even Jillian, could handle the case without any problems. No, she dreaded telling Victor why she wanted, needed, the time away from work. If she were in his position, she’d definitely expect an explanation. The dread settling in the pit of her stomach stemmed from her admiration and respect for Victor Furnari. Could he understand the fear and desperation of a seventeen-year-old girl who hadn’t been given a choice? Would the compassion she’d always admired be extended to her?
She stood, nervous energy making her edgy. “First of all, I’m not certain I’ll need the time off,” she said, and moved to the window overlooking the Los Angeles skyline. “I won’t know until later today.”
She turned and rested her backside against the window frame, gripping the ledge with her fingers. Victor leaned back in the chair, his elbows resting on the arm, tapping his fingers together as he waited for her to continue.
“I may be a match for a child who needs a bone marrow transplant.”
Victor shrugged. “Okay, but donating marrow isn’t a month-long procedure. It’s not like donating a kidney, but only around a week-long recovery process at best.”
“I’m aware of that. But this is more complicated.” She pulled in a deep breath. “The child is my daughter.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with shrewd hazel eyes. “I didn’t know you had a child,”
