“Where either party to a contemplated marriage in this state makes a gift of money or property to the other on the basis or assumption that the marriage will take place, in the event that the donee refuses to enter into the marriage as contemplated or that it is given up by mutual consent, the donor may recover such gift.”

Now Riesner was wincing. Again, the jury would have to believe Lindy, not Mike or the written language of the separate property agreement. But if they felt Mike had dangled the carrot of marriage to get her to sign the agreement, then she had the right to take back her “dowry,” namely the company and any other asset they shared.

Was the jury utterly mystified by all this talk of donees and donors? Were these people smart enough to reason their way through this?

Milne droned on about contracts at prodigious length before moving to the concluding instructions. “Each of you must decide the case for yourself, but should do so only after considering the views of each juror. You should not hesitate to change an opinion if you are convinced it is wrong. However, you should not be influenced to decide any question in a particular way simply because a majority of the jurors, or any of them, favor such a decision.

“… Remember that you are not partisans or advocates in this matter…”

Milne took a healthy swig of water this time. His vocabulary for ten days had consisted mainly of “overruled” and “sustained,” so this lengthy speech was putting a strain on his vocal cords. Luckily, he was close to the end.

“When you retire, you shall select one of your number to act as foreperson. As soon as any nine or more jurors have agreed upon a verdict, have the verdict and answers signed and dated by your foreperson and return with them to this room.”

Milne paused. The courtroom shook itself from its swoon. He put down the last paper, and said in a benign voice at odds with the robotic delivery of the previous two hours, “It being late in the day, you will return to court tomorrow at nine a.m. to begin your deliberations.”

With nary a rustle, the twelve people chosen to shape the future of a number of other people in the courtroom filed out the door behind them, followed by the two alternates.

Nina put her arm around Lindy. “This is it,” Genevieve said, her face pale.

The wait had begun.

BOOK FOUR. VERDICTS

23

›Click‹

Jury, Day One, Morning:

The seven men and seven women find seats, with the two alternates sitting away from the table. For about twenty minutes, they dither over a foreperson. Mrs. Lim gets strong backing from half. Clifford Wright emerges as the other possible leader. By the second vote, someone switches to Wright.

Cliff: You all know why we’re here. We’ve listened to testimony for nearly ten days now, and we’ve had more than enough time to think, right?

A titter of agreement.

Cliff: And during our breaks, without doing anything the judge didn’t want us to do, I know a few of us have felt each other out, just to get an idea of where we stand. This hasn’t been easy, and I know a couple of times tempers have flared.

Man: I’ll say.

Cliff: But we’re in the home stretch, folks. Let’s be smooth and focused. I think it’s a good idea to take a straw vote right off the bat, see if by some miracle we’re already in agreement.

Some murmurs of assent.

Man: The judge said we should talk about this first.

Woman: Yes, what if we get a verdict on the first vote? I don’t think that’s the way to do the job right.

Man: Why waste time if we don’t have to? I knew how I would vote the minute those lawyers finished their opening statements.

Cliff: Even if we do have a majority this is not a vote that will count. We each get to have our say first, like the judge said.

They vote on slips of paper, anonymously. Clifford Wright reads off the answers one by one. Eight think Lindy Markov should win. Four oppose her claim.

Wright: Well, now, we’ve almost got a majority. You all remember, we only need nine on this civil case.

Man: So the gals went with hearts, not brains.

Woman: And most of the men were too stupid to use either one.

Wright: Let’s not bicker, folks.

Man: It’s more fun to think of this as the war between men and women. It kind of encapsulates all the issues. Romantic fancies and the greed of a woman…

Woman: Betrayal, power, and the ego of a man. Only this time, the women are winning for a change!

Wright: Let’s organize ourselves. Our next step seems to be to go around the room, give people a chance to say a little about who they are and why they’re thinking a certain way. We’ll go clockwise for discussions. That puts you first, Mr. Binkley. Is everyone okay with first names? I’m terrible with names.

Most agree to first names.

Bob Binkley: I’m a history teacher over at the college. Thirty-two years old and feel every minute of it. Not married and nobody in the picture at the moment. Don’t get too worked up if you notice I have trouble breathing sometimes. That’s just a touch of asthma.

Anyway, I’ve had about all I can take of this case. These two, they’re greedheads, and the money they are fighting over is obscene. A life spent accumulating wealth for its own sake is wasted.

Man: I never got the idea money was their goal. It just came with their success.

Bob: Nobody on earth should have that kind of money and not spread it around.

Woman: Lindy Markov was involved in charity work. I’ve seen her name in the papers pushing various causes.

Bob: Good for her. But, considering there’s still two hundred odd million being put back into manufacturing yet another device that pays homage to our cultural obsession with staying thin, I’m not impressed. These two fat cats could have settled this out of court so easily without wasting all our time.

Cliff: Can you tell us how you voted and why?

Bob: Oh, I don’t think the woman should get anything. They weren’t married. I picked Mike because the law’s on his side, but I’ve got an even better idea. I think we ought to take their money and divide it between ourselves. Now that would be fair. Bet we’d make better use of it, too.

Several others get off on his idea and fantasize on the topic until Cliff Wright intervenes.

Cliff: Ignacio?

Ignacio Ybarra: I’m twenty-three and I work for the telephone company as a lineman. My wife died two years ago. I have a son who is three, and for my recreation, I do community theater.

When we talked at lunch the other day, I already said what I think. I think she should get something.

Cliff: So you think she’s got a legitimate claim? Remember this is a legal case.

Ignacio: That’s not so simple to say. I agree the law should guide us to do the right thing but if it doesn’t give you a clear direction, you must look into your heart for what is right. I voted for Lindy.

Cliff: Care to say why?

Ignacio: I’m ready to hear the other people first.

Cliff: Okay. How about you, Maribel?

Maribel Grzegorek: I’ve lived up here twenty-two years. Came here to ski, and never left. I’m over forty and under seventy, not that that’s anybody’s beeswax. Used to work as a dealer in the casino. Now I cashier at the Mikasa outlet store.

My biggest problem with this case is that I just can’t stomach Riesner.

He reminds me of this old cat I had, the meanest animal you ever met. You know Mike Markov loses points in my book just for picking a lawyer like that. And that day Reilly tripped? I’d swear that lawyer put his foot in her way on purpose!