The small dining room was softly lit, a converted colonial house in Society Hill, filled with well-dressed diners conversing in low, polite tones. Burgundy paisley drapes blanketed the windows, covered the tables to the ground, and made elegant skirts on the chairs, so the furniture was dressed better than Mary was. She had to find a way to take Keisha’s call. She left her cell phone powered on, and they sat down and opened menus softer than a Sealy’s.

“I love the foie here,” Eisen said, and Bennie nodded.

“I’ll join you, Jeff. In fact, why don’t you order for all of us? We’ve never been here.”

“Terrific.” Eisen smoothed down his shiny tie, and the waitress arrived in the next instant with not one but two bottles of French water, one in each hand, asking if they wanted their water with gas or not. Mary hoped the answer was not. Who wants gas? Then Eisen ordered them an appetizer of foie gras, the double-cut lamb entrée with wild rice, and a bottle of red Château Whatever.

“So, Jeff,” Bennie began, sipping some water. “Why don’t we get straight to business, and you tell us what’s keeping your wife up at night? I know that having your deposition taken can be stressful, for everybody, and -” Suddenly she was interrupted by the sound of a ringing cell phone.

Brriinngg! Briinnnggg! Like Pavlov’s experiment, the entire restaurant responded by reaching instantly inside suit pockets, purses, and belt holsters, but Mary this time recognized her cell.

It has to be Keisha, calling back! “Excuse me, I’m really sorry, I have to get this,” she said, and before Bennie could stop her, she’d reached for her purse, grabbed her cell, and flipped it open. “Yes?”

“MARE! ARE YOU STILL WITH THAT INGRATE?! PUT HIM ON! YOUR MOTHER WANTS TO TALK TO HIM!” It was her father, shouting so loud he could be heard by the eastern United States, not to mention Jeff Eisen.

Eeek. “Pop, I have to go. Call you later. Love you both.” Mary flipped the cell closed just as the waitress materialized at her elbow and leaned over.

“Mademoiselle, cell phones are not permitted in the dining room.”

And gas is? “I’m sorry,” Mary said, and when she looked up, Bennie was glaring at her and so was Eisen. “Sorry,” she added, like punctuation, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn’t hear that message.

“So, Jeff,” Bennie began again, forcing a smile. “Why don’t we go over the facts of the case? It’s a good idea for you to review them, and then we’ll take it from there and tell you what the other side is likely to ask you in your deposition.”

“Sure. Well, as you know, Marc and I used to be in business together. Partners. We had the furniture stores, three locations, for the past oh, say, eight or nine years, and then all of a sudden last year, we start fighting. Disagreeing. Everything’s a problem.” Eisen threw up his hands, with a heavy gold ring. “First, it’s the inventory. He wants to keep too much inventory, and he develops this thing for recliners…”

Mary sipped her water and tried to listen, but she couldn’t.

“…he likes the Broughley recliners the best, they got the suede, all kinds a suede, and I admit, it’s a nice design and it’s recliners for cool people. But in half a year, Marc’s got the showrooms in all three locations wall-to-wall with Broughley, and then I find out that the new Broughley rep named Ricky is really a girl named Rikki…”

Mary couldn’t sit still. If she could just get that message, she could listen to Eisen’s problems with a clear head and everything would be okay. She needed one lousy moment of privacy with her phone. Then she got an idea.

“…and next thing I know, my partner, who’s got a wife and three kids in private school, one with ADHD and can’t eat wheat products, my partner who never in ten years took a vacation, is now seeing more of Tortola than Mick Jagger, and I got enough Broughley to…”

“Excuse me a second,” Mary said, rising nervously. “I know this is rude, but I can’t concentrate on the story, as much as I want to, because I need a cigarette.”

“You smoke?” Bennie demanded, and her incredulous eyes telegraphed, DiNunzio, you know you don’t smoke. You never smoked a day in your life. You don’t even know which end to light.

“I do smoke. I smoke. I do everything bad.” I even fly on airplanes. I smoke on airplanes, in fact. While I swim. “You knew that I smoked, didn’t you?”

“No, I thought you quit,” Bennie countered, and her eyes glinted evilly in the soft lights. “You told me you quit.”

God, she’s good. That’s why she’s the boss. She lies better. “I fibbed a little, and now I’m jonesing for a cigarette. I need to go outside and smoke. I’ll be right back, I’ll only take a puff and be right back.”

Eisen interjected, “I knew you were jumpy. I could tell, right off.” But at this point, neither woman was listening. This was litigation in which the client had become irrelevant. The battle was between boss and associate.

“I’ll be right back, I swear.” Mary eased out of the corner seat and reached for her purse, but Bennie caught it by the shoulder strap.

“No, sit down.” Bennie held fast to the leather strap. “I won’t let you go. How can you quit smoking if you keep back-sliding?”

“Everybody backslides a little.” Mary tugged her purse, but Bennie was too strong and held on. All that stupid rowing.

“Not everybody backslides, when their heart is as bad as yours. You know what your cardiologist said. You could -”

“Cardiologist?” Mary blurted out, then caught herself. “He changed his mind. He said it’s okay to smoke while I’m weaning myself off.”

But while the women were playing tug-of-war, Eisen was standing up at the table. Suddenly Bennie stopped talking, and Mary looked over in dismay. Oh, no. He was going to fire her. He had had it. She had pushed him too far. But in the next minute, Eisen burst into a smile and threw a friendly arm around Mary.

“I’m with you, Mare,” he said, and there was a new warmth in his voice. “I quit, too, so I know what you’re goin’ through. Let’s go outside and fall off the wagon together, and I’ll tell you the dirty parts of the Broughley story. Ha!”

No! “Sure,” Mary said, tugging her purse free in defeat. She let Eisen lead her away from the table, and when she looked back, the boss was laughing her ass off.

As soon as she was alone in the cab, Mary finally listened to the cell message:

“I called you at work and left a message but it’s Saturday and I guess you’re not there.” Keisha’s voice sounded vaguely panicky. “I need to see you, but I don’t want to say more on the cell. Call me as soon as you can.” She left a number with a 215 area, and Mary called it immediately. When the ringing stopped, an answering machine picked up.

“This is Keisha Grace. Please leave a message at the sound of the beep,” it went, and Mary left a message telling her to call back anytime, day or night.

She snapped the phone closed in the backseat of the cab as it whisked her home through the city. Her stomach felt shaky, but it wasn’t from her first – and last – cigarette.

Mary couldn’t let go of Amadeo, just yet.