By Marjory Lou Babb

PEN Book 3:

Book III

 
 

Sue smiled while she poured champagne into two crystal flutes and watched the bubbles stream up through the lovely liquid. Exactly one year had passed since she left King & Stockton. She had started her own law firm and had just purchased and moved into her own home.

“Congratulations!” Abigail clinked the rim of her glass against Sue’s.

“Thanks. What a difference a year makes.” Sue picked up the bottle and motioned for Abigail to follow her outside onto the patio. “I made more money last year than I ever did at King & Stockton. Almost twice as much. Who would have thought that was possible?”

“Me.” Abigail settled onto a lounge next to Sue’s. “You were so beaten up you couldn’t see it. I knew you were unappreciated and probably underpaid.” Fireflies flickered through the garden and captured Abigail’s attention. “I still can’t believe you didn’t want to settle that lawsuit.”

Sue grinned and rolled her eyes. “I got hooked on a dream.” Now even she couldn’t believe she had fought the settlement. “I was absolutely, totally convinced King & Stockton was the best law firm in Texas, and I wanted to be the best lawyer at that firm. I worked there twelve years, and I did everything humanly possible to make the dream come true.” A burst of animosity flared unexpectedly, but she squelched it by downing her champagne. “Punishment became normal,  and I couldn’t see the dream held no resemblance to reality. I also thought that if I took the firm through a trial and won, it would change things for women. Thank God those delusions passed.”

Sue poured more champagne, and the two women quietly drank while they enjoyed the evening. Sue, however, couldn’t be quiet for long. She reopened the conversation. “I’ve concluded”—she flashed a smile and suspected Abigail would disagree—“it’s not the outrageous crap that holds women back. It’s a pervasive malaise of inequity.” Disgusted by memories that flooded back, Sue threw her hands into the air. “We’re mired in inequity. It’s partly because of social convention, but we put up with a lot of nonsense just because we don’t like confrontation.

That keeps us from doing anything to stop it.”

To her surprise Abigail didn’t disagree. “You’re right. Most women avoid conflict at all cost.” Then she laughed. “But you’re not like most women.”

“That’s true.” Sue laughed too. “In fact my newfound serenity is beginning to bother me.”

“How’s that?”

“My offices are too quiet.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe, but I’ve been around men my whole life. Confrontation was always building or subsiding or in full conflagration, but it was never boring. I didn’t like the tribal culture at King & Stockton, but I do miss working with men.”

“Are you sorry you sued them?”

“Absolutely not! I’m enormously satisfied with the way things turned out. I’m pretty sure it cost the firm more than two million dollars to defend and settle that lawsuit, and making them pay was as good as punching Thurston in the nose.” Sue smiled. “I’m sure it put him on better behavior—at least for a while.

The money I got also had a healing quality.” She nestled farther into the lounge.

“Everything’s much nicer now.”

“Well,” Abigail observed, “I don’t think serenity is bothering you. You need to get laid.”

The observation amused Sue. “I’d like that, but until then I live vicariously through you, and you’ve been holding out. What happened in Santa Fe?”