Page 6 of Pro Bono

During this part of the day, while the sun sank further, Vesper had to begin circulating again, mainly to oversee the reloading of the last trays that were headed for the kitchen, but also to get thanked, hugged, and bid goodbye. She made sure she was smiley and relaxed about all of this as though it had happened by itself, while frequently giving credit to her deputies by name. As the afternoon light began to fade and evening approached, she wondered where George was. She supposed that he was walking guests to their cars and saying goodbye. George was like that, a host who paid personal attention to each guest. She still had so many things to occupy her that she had to set thoughts about him aside for the moment. They’d tell each other everything later.

When the work was almost all done, Vesper was finally alone. She sat on one of the tall stools along the breakfast counter and looked at the spotless kitchen. With a lot of help from her friends, she had managed it again. She looked up at the clock. It was eight fifty. The lunch party had lasted over six hours, and the final cleanup almost three.

What the hell had happened to George? Every time she had seen him, he had been circulating, laughing at somebody’s witticisms, introducing people to each other, serving them something, or handing them a glass. They had exchanged a few waves, a brief touch or a word a few times. But now he had been gone for almost three hours. She started thinking of reasons why she shouldn’t be irritated at him. She had a few to choose from, so she picked the one with an element of self-interest.

She didn’t want to have done this huge undertaking and then end the long day with an argument. She deserved praise and gratitude, and she would get them if she didn’t start a fight. George was sometimes a dope, but he was appreciative. There was also a bit of uncertainty inher mind about where he was and why. Maybe he was driving someone home who’d drunk too much to drive safely. He was that kind of guy too, and he would be thoughtful enough to have done it quietly to avoid embarrassing the inebriated couple.

While she was waiting and her curiosity was in danger of becoming worry, the last load in the dishwasher finished, so she opened it and put everything away. He still wasn’t home. She switched on the outdoor lights and went out into the backyard to see if she could find anything that hadn’t been picked up, wiped off, stacked, or straightened. This kept her physically occupied for a few minutes, but she kept her cell phone in her hand in case George called her to pick him up.

She was back inside and called his cell number, but when the call went to voicemail, she felt her heart pumping in her chest and wondered if this was the moment when everything went bad. In spite of the fact that she’d been on her feet for most of the day, she couldn’t sit still. She began to pace back and forth in the living room. She called her friend Tiffany Shaw to ask if she’d happened to see George near the end of the party. Was he talking with anybody in particular? Heading in one direction or another? She called two more friends, but none of them described seeing him doing anything Vesper hadn’t seen or assumed. Then she saw headlights appear at the end of the driveway, and her pulse began to slow. He must have driven the couple home and then waited for a taxi or Uber instead of calling her to pick him up, because he’d known she’d be worn out.

She stared out the front window without trying to pretend she wasn’t. It wouldn’t hurt for George to know how much she loved him and worried about him. She saw a man in silhouette getting out of the car in the space behind the glare of the headlights, but it didn’t look like George from here, and the Uber didn’t back out and leave. The driver got out too, and the car’s lights went off. The driver was short. She was a woman.

Could that man be George? No. They were probably a pair of guests who had left something. People were always leaving their phones somewhere, and that was one of the few things nobody could bear to be without until the next day. The two converged at the front of their dark car and headed up the front steps. Vesper turned on the porch light and saw the night-colored uniforms and the gleam of the badges, and she knew that they’d come to tell her this part of her life was over.

4

JULY 2024

The client arrived in the reception area of the Charles Warren & Associates law office carrying a two-handled basket-woven bag full of dark blue file folders. She looked down at the woman behind the reception desk and saw that the name plate on the surface said Martha Wilkes. Martha Wilkes’s hair was buzz-cut around the sides, a bit longer at the top, and she wore a dark blue sport coat with a brooch that looked a bit like a flower with a yellow gemstone in the center. She scanned the appointment calendar in front of her and said, “Mrs. Ellis?”

“Yes.”

“Please take a seat.” The way to the chairs was blocked by a large black Labrador retriever lying on his side on the carpet. Martha saw the problem and said, “Alan, please. Over here.”

The dog got up, walked to the other side of the desk, and lay down again. The woman at the reception desk said, “I just have to be sure we’ve got all your contact information and so on.” She typed the name on her computer, scrolled down the screen, and said, “It’s all here.” She dialed a single number on her desk phone, and said, “Mrs. Ellis is here,”then stood and said, “Come with me.” They started toward the door across the room.

The door swung open and Charles Warren came out. He smiled and said, “Hello, I’m Charlie Warren.”

She set down the bag of files and held out her right hand. “I’m Vesper Ellis.”

He shook her hand, picked up her bag, and said, “Come on in.” When she entered, he closed his office door, walked across the room to where his desk was, and gestured at the pair of armchairs facing him while he got over his surprise. Her name had made him imagine someone older and not so eye-catching. She had long hair with a slight wave, and she wore a blue dress that showed a hint of a slim but shapely figure. Her face was strikingly beautiful. He was determined not to let himself be distracted by her appearance or even let her suspect that he had noticed. A woman like her would probably be sick of the male gaze.

She sat.

Warren looked at the empty chair beside her and said, “Will anybody else be joining us?”

“No,” she said. “My husband died about three years ago, so it’s just me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not happy about it, but it’s been a while.”

He set the bag of files on the empty chair beside her and went to sit behind his desk. “What brings you here today?”

“Tiffany Greene recommended you. You probably remember her as Tiffany Shaw.”

“Both. I represented her in the divorce, and our office also handled the name restoration, so I know. Nice person.” They both waited for a couple seconds, and then he said, “I can’t say anything more about a former client than that.”

“Oh,” she said. “I was waiting for more. I should have realized there would be rules. Tiffany said you’re a CPA besides being a lawyer?”

“Yes. Is that the kind of legal issue you have?”

“It might be. I’ve noticed that some investment accounts have been getting smaller when I think they should have been growing.”

“What sorts of investments are we talking about—businesses, property?”

“Stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and the money-market funds from dividends. The only real estate I have at the moment is my house. My husband George handled our investments. We met when we were both twenty-four. He was ambitious and hardworking. He’d sold cars for a while, and then real estate, then managed a small shipping company. He always saved, and he invested. He already owned the condominium where he lived and some empty land in Santa Barbara County that he rented out to a farmer who was growing garbanzo beans and things on it. I was working as the IT department for a medical clinic, and we put away most of my salary too.”

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