She took a deep, shaky breath and said, “All right.”

Haltingly, Jennifer began to recount the events in the courtroom, gradually speaking more rapidly as it all came to life again. Adam sat there quietly listening, studying her, saying nothing.

When Jennifer had finished, Adam said, “The man who gave you the envelope—was he in the District Attorney’s office earlier that morning when you were sworn in?”

“I’ve thought about that. I honestly don’t remember. There were so many people in the office that day and they were all strangers.”

“Had you ever seen the man before, anywhere?”

Jennifer shook her head helplessly. “I can’t recall. I don’t think so.”

“You said you saw him talking to the District Attorney just before he walked over to give you the envelope. Did you see the District Attorney hand him the envelope?”

“I—no.”

“Did you actually see this man talking to the District Attorney, or was he just in the group around him?”

Jennifer closed her eyes for a second, trying to bring back that moment. “I’m sorry. Everything was so confused. I—I just don’t know.”

“Do you have any idea how he could have known your name?”

“No.”

“Or why he selected you?”

“That one’s easy. He probably knew an idiot when he saw one.” She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Mr. Warner, I have no idea.”

Adam said, “A lot of pressure is being brought to bear on this. District Attorney Di Silva has been after Michael Moretti for a long time. Until you came along, he had an airtight case. The D.A.’s not very happy with you.”

“I’m not very happy with me, either.” Jennifer could not blame Adam Warner for what he was about to do. He was just carrying out his job. They were out to get her and they had succeeded. Adam Warner was not responsible; he was merely the instrument they were using.

Jennifer felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to be alone. She did not want anyone else to see her misery.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I—I’m not feeling very well. I’d like to go home, please.”

Adam studied her a moment. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m going to recommend that disbarment proceedings against you be dropped?”

It took several seconds for Adam’s words to sink in. Jennifer stared at him, speechless, searching his face, looking into those gray-blue eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses. “Do—do you really mean that?”

“Being a lawyer is very important to you, isn’t it?” Adam asked.

Jennifer thought of her father and his comfortable little law office, and of the conversations they used to have, and the long years of law school, and their hopes and dreams. We’re going into partnership. You hurry up and get that law degree.

“Yes,” Jennifer whispered.

“If you can get over a rough beginning, I have a feeling you’ll be a very good one.”

Jennifer gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m going to try.”

She said the words over again in her mind. I’m going to try! It did not matter that she shared a small and dingy office with a seedy private detective and a man who repossessed cars. It was a law office. She was a member of the legal profession, and they were going to allow her to practice law. She was filled with a feeling of exultation. She looked across at Adam and knew she would be forever grateful to this man.

The waiter had begun to clear the dishes from the table. Jennifer tried to speak, but it came out a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Mr. Warner—”

He said gravely, “After all we’ve been through together, I think it should be Adam.”

“Adam—”

“Yes?”

“I hope it won’t ruin our relationship, but—” Jennifer moaned, “I’m starved!”

5

The next few weeks raced by. Jennifer found herself busy from early morning until late at night, serving summonses—court orders to appear to answer a legal action—and subpoenas—court orders to appear as a witness. She knew that her chances of getting into a large law firm were nonexistent, for after the fiasco she had been involved in, no one would dream of hiring her. She would just have to find some way to make a reputation for herself, to begin all over.

In the meantime, there was the pile of summonses and subpoenas on her desk from Peabody & Peabody. While it was not exactly practicing law, it was twelve-fifty and expenses.

Occasionally, when Jennifer worked late, Ken Bailey would take her out to dinner. On the surface he was a cynical man, but Jennifer felt that it was a facade. She sensed that he was lonely. He had been graduated from Brown University and was bright and well-read. She could not imagine why he was satisfied to spend his life working out of a dreary office, trying to locate stray husbands and wives. It was as though he had resigned himself to being a failure and was afraid to try for success.

Once, when Jennifer brought up the subject of his marriage, he growled at her, “It’s none of your business,” and Jennifer had never mentioned it again.

Otto Wenzel was completely different. The short, potbellied little man was happily married. He regarded Jennifer as a daughter and he constantly brought her soups and cakes that his wife made. Unfortunately, his wife was a terrible cook, but Jennifer forced herself to eat whatever Otto Wenzel brought in, because she did not want to hurt his feelings. One Friday evening Jennifer was invited to the Wenzel home for dinner. Mrs. Wenzel had prepared stuffed cabbage, her specialty. The cabbage was soggy, the meat inside was hard, and the rice halfcooked. The whole dish swam in a lake of chicken fat. Jennifer attacked it bravely, taking small bites and pushing the food around on her plate to make it seem as though she were eating.

“How do you like it?” Mrs. Wenzel beamed.

“It—it’s one of my favorites.”

From that time on, Jennifer had dinner at the Wenzel’s every Friday night, and Mrs. Wenzel always prepared Jennifer’s favorite dish.

Early one morning, Jennifer received a telephone call from the personal secretary of Mr. Peabody, Jr.

“Mr. Peabody would like to see you this morning at eleven o’clock. Be prompt, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

In the past, Jennifer had only dealt with secretaries and law clerks in the Peabody office. It was a large, prestigious firm, one that young lawyers dreamed of being invited to join. On the way to keep her appointment, Jennifer began to fantasize. If Mr. Peabody himself wanted to see her, it had to be about something important. He probably had seen the light and was going to offer her a job as a lawyer with his firm, to give her a chance to show what she could do. She was going to surprise all of them. Some day it might even be Peabody, Peabody & Parker.

Jennifer killed thirty minutes in the corridor outside the office, and at exactly eleven o’clock, she entered the reception room. She did not want to seem too eager. She was kept waiting for two hours, and was finally ushered into the office of Mr. Peabody, Jr. He was a tall, thin man wearing a vested suit and shoes that had been made for him in London.

He did not invite her to sit down. “Miss Potter—” He had an unpleasant, high-pitched voice.

“Parker.”

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “This is a summons. I would like you to serve it.”

At that instant, Jennifer sensed that she was not going to become a member of the firm.

Mr. Peabody, Jr., handed Jennifer the summons and said, “Your fee will be five hundred dollars.”

Jennifer was sure she had misunderstood him. “Did you say five hundred dollars?”

“That is correct. If you are successful, of course.”

“There’s a problem,” Jennifer guessed.