Chapter 14

The Practice

Catherine unconsciously ran her fingers through her hair as she worked, tucking the loose ends severely behind her ears. Vincent, quietly entering the library, could feel her frustration and seething irritation through the bond and see it in her body language. Conveying calm and support in return, he approached the desk and massaged her tense shoulders.

She closed her eyes letting the feelings, both emotional and physical, wash over her as she leaned back into his strong hands. The tension retreated, but the frustration was ever present. A sigh of resignation escaped her lips as she looked up into his deep blue, worry-filled eyes. The question they asked made the words unnecessary.

"Sometimes it all seems so useless," she explained. "We work to get justice, to avenge the wrongs, when we should be trying to prevent the crimes in the first place. I realize that many of these women won't admit that they have a problem, or feel that there's no recourse for them; but, somehow, we have to get through to them. We have to let them know that they don't have to put up with being treated badly, that they aren't helpless. There has to be support, both legal and emotional, to help them escape before it escalates into . . . this." She waved her hand dejectedly over the proliferation of folders covering her desk; a tear trickling down her cheek.

"Why don't you try."

Those four simple words, spoken with quiet intensity as only Vincent could, pierced the shell of despair around her heart and kindled a small flame of hope.

"Why don't I try?" she echoed with astonishment. Her frustration dissolved, replaced by a warm, loving appreciation of this man she had married. His understanding, caring and clarity of thought was the perfect counterbalance to her emotional tendencies; one of thousands of reasons that she loved him with her whole being.

Her mood improved. She was able to finished the current brief in record time. As they walked to their chamber from the brownstone, her mind was working out the logistics of the enterprise suggested by Vincent's comment.

She could start her own law practice. She'd need office space, lawyers, staff, furniture; her mind was busy determining the requirements and possible costs. It would be a normal, for-profit practice with a branch for pro bono clients. That space was already available.

Before Margaret died, she had changed her will. She had wanted to leave her entire estate to Jacob and his world, but he would not hear of it. Instead she had set up a trust, managed by Peter and Catherine, which could be used by the tunnel community but which also would benefit the less fortunate Above.

The Chase-Wells Family Center provided assistance to battered women, children and the homeless. It provided living areas, job training, day-care and counseling. Peter had an associate who was interested in setting up a clinic in that area -- the family center had been the logical location. Now Catherine envisioned adding a legal office to the complex.

She wondered if Luz Corrales was available. She would be perfect to head up the pro bono branch. She was committed, cared about the community and was a darn good lawyer. She'd need one other lawyer working with her -- and a secretary.

The other office would need secretaries, paralegals, and at least two other attorneys. Frank Marten might be interested. It would be good experience for him while he was in law school, and he was sharp as a tack. She was wondering if Edie might be interested; now that would be a coup. She'd contact a good headhunter and see who might be available.

She could talk to her father's old friend, Al Pratsker. Perhaps he could recommend her firm to clients needing non-corporate legal advice. Though she’d been out of the social scene for a while, she still had some contacts. She didn't think a lack of clients would be a problem.

As they walked, Vincent could tell that her mind was busy working on some project, and excitement radiated from her. Though she was walking beside him, she was miles away, her eyes not even focusing on her surroundings. Nearing the home section he stopped, halting her with the tug of his hand. She turned to look at him, confusion evident on her face.

"It's time for the children." His low, gravelly voice almost a whisper. Her grey eyes cleared, truly focusing on his sparkling blue ones, and she smiled.

"No," she said, filing her thoughts away until later. "It's time for my family -- including you." Rising on tiptoe she kissed him gently and then gave him a hug. "Thank you."

He cocked his head inquisitively.

"For understanding me so well; for loving me; for . . . everything. Now, let's go to the nursery chamber and rescue Mary from our little ones."

###

Catherine could be a very determined woman. Sometimes Joe mentally compared her to a terrier -- once she got her teeth into something, she didn't let go until the outcome suited her. The idea of a law firm securely planted in her mind, she went forward with all the intensity she was becoming known for.

She finished the cases that she’d already gotten from Joe, but notified him that she would no longer be able to work for the DA's office. Once her afternoons were free, she set about bringing her plans to fruition. Frank came on board immediately and, since the new semester hadn't started yet, was able to help her get the office space at CWFC set up, as well as locate a suite for the for-profit branch of the firm.

She met with Luz and explained her plan. The proposal appealed to Luz, and she knew another attorney who would fit in at that branch of the office. The idea of being able to do community and family work, and still be able to take home a respectable paycheck was irresistible.

Catherine talked to Edie about her scheme and hinted that she needed someone really talented with computers who might also want to branch out into paralegal work. Knowing that Edie had been taking paralegal classes at night, she was certain that she would jump at the chance; she wasn't mistaken. One day after work the two of them went to an electronics store to pick out the equipment the office would need. Edie was in heaven.

Rita, having overheard part of a conversation with Edie, cornered Catherine, as she returned her last batch of work for Joe, and asked what was going on. When Catherine explained her new enterprise, Rita's eyes lit up. Within minutes she had another recruit.

Office space arranged and furnished, staff hired; she still needed another attorney for the downtown office. Without a doubt she knew who she wanted for her partner -- Joe Maxwell. Inviting him for a drink after work, she laid out her plan. Joe agreed that the proposal sounded interesting and told her that he would think it over and let her know. Two days later Maxwell, Chandler, Corrales and Associates was born.

The new office opened the first week in September. Within a month it was evident that the partnership was going to be a success. The paying clients were increasing steadily, and the work at the CWFC branch was fulfilling Catherine's expectations. Though it was a drop in the bucket compared to the problem, they were at least making a difference.

###

Catherine was leaving the building at the end of a hectic day when the sound of her name halted her in her tracks. Turning, she was stunned to see Elliott Burch walking toward her.

"Elliott! What a surprise." Surprise might be a little mild for the feeling she had, a feeling that she quickly controlled so as not to worry Vincent. "What are you doing here? I didn't realize that you were in New York."

"I just got back. You're looking good, Cathy. Where are you going? Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm sorry, Elliott, but I'm on my way home and I really can't be late. Maybe some other time." She gave him a smile but as she started to turn he grabbed her elbow.

"Your old number has been changed -- how can I reach you?"

She extracted a business card from her purse and handed it to him. His eyes widened as he read the inscription.

"So . . . you finally left the DA's office. When did that happen?"

"Elliott, I really am in a hurry. I tell you what, let's plan to meet tomorrow for drinks, and we can talk. I'll meet you at McNeal's at five thirty, okay?"

At his assent, she rushed off. He watched as she caught a cab and disappeared from view. Tomorrow . . . he was looking forward to it.

At five thirty, exactly, the next evening, Catherine pushed open the door to McNeal's Tavern. The English-style pub was comfortable and quiet. The front of the establishment reminded her of any normal bar but the back room had tables with wingback chairs, and a large fireplace that, during cold weather, had a blazing fire. It was a very comfortable atmosphere, reminding her of the library at home.

Elliott rose as she entered the room and helped her with her seat. After ordering drinks they just looked at each other and smiled.

"It's been a long time, Elliott. I'd asked how you're doing, but you're still alive so I guess that says a lot." Her teasing tone broke the ice.

He chuckled at her reference. "Yeah, the CIA finally got the death squads off my back -- though, if I remember correctly, you were the one that wanted to kill me most of the time."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "We did have our ups and downs, didn't we? So, how are you, really?"

He filled her in on the last two years. He’d been in Hawaii for a while and then had gone to Mexico. He'd only been back in New York for a week and wasn't sure how long he planned to stay. He asked her about what had been happening with her: when she had changed jobs, why she'd moved.

She told him that she had moved the previous year shortly after getting married. The shock he experience intensified when she continued that she had quit work at the DA's office shortly before the birth of her twins. Ignoring his stunned expression, she explained that she’d done part-time work for the DA after the babies were born but decided that she needed a change.

He could see the excitement in her face as she talked about the new practice. She explained the need they were filling at the family center, and that the downtown office was doing well even though they’d only been open a short time. As the shock of the news of her marriage and new family subsided, he sipped his drink, smiled and enjoyed the enthusiasm that she displayed.

His smile curbed her ebullience. "What?" she asked.

"I was just remembering when I was that enthusiastic about my work. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

Her enigmatic smile puzzled him, and she could see it on his face. "You build buildings that are large, grand, showcases. Perhaps if you built something meaningful your enthusiasm would return."

"Such as?" he queried.

"Oh, I don't know. What about nice, low-income housing? Build something that people would be proud to live in and could still afford. I've heard of programs where the owners provide sweat equity so that they do part of the work in exchange for keeping the costs down. That way they also have a feeling of pride in their home because they helped finish it. Also, some of the anger goes away when a person has a say in their life. Everyone, even someone just scraping by, wants a nice place to raise his or her family. It's not as flashy as your other buildings but it's more important." Seeing his wry smile, she stopped. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm sorry; it's just that this has become something close to my heart. Joe calls it my crusade."

"And how is the tenacious Mr. Maxwell? How did you manage to lure him away from the DA's office?"

"Joe's fine. I think he was waiting for the right opportunity to come along. He'll stay though, because I gave him a coffee service." Catherine chuckled as she remembered their firm's first day. She and Joe were meeting in his new office when Lori, their secretary, brought them some coffee. Joe's grin matched Cathy's as he saw the coffee being served in china cups from a silver coffee pot. Cathy told him that the service, both the coffee set and being waited on by the secretary, would be reserved from now on for times when he was meeting with clients. He was tickled that she'd remembered his comment years ago that he didn't want to be drinking stale coffee from Styrofoam cups when he was fifty.

Explaining the reference to Elliott, they both laughed. He looked at her shining face and commented, "This work fulfills you, doesn't it? You're really happy."

"The work is exciting and rewarding, but that's not what makes me happy, Elliott. My family, my husband and kids, that's where my true joy comes from. The other is just a bonus. And if I ever had to make a choice, there is no decision -- my family comes first . . . always."

He tried to get more information about her family, but she informed him that her private life was just that -- private. Seeing the determined look on his face, she commented that if he wanted to stay a friend he would leave it that way, and was thankful to see the look replaced by one of understanding.

Saying that she had to get home, she took her leave, telling him to keep in touch. His longing look followed her has she left the pub, the regret of what he'd thrown away crushing his heart.

####

Two days later, Catherine stopped by Luz's office on her way to work, just to see how things were going and to visit with other friends at the clinic. She arrived at the downtown office around eleven o'clock and was just getting down to work when Joe tapped on her office door.

Settling himself in the comfortable guest chair opposite her desk, he reminded her of the cat who'd gotten into the cream. She studied his expression curiously before asking the question that he was waiting to hear. "Well?"

"Well, I think we need to consider hiring another lawyer."

His barely contained excitement egged her on. "And why is that, Joe?"

"Because we got a new account this morning while you were out, and I think it'll generate enough work for at least one more attorney, maybe two."

Her eyes narrowed. "And just who is this new client?" She held her breath waiting for his answer.

"Elliott Burch."

She slowly exhaled as she searched for the right words. "Joe . . ." She shook her head slightly in disbelief.

All of a sudden, Joe looked worried. "Hey, Radcliffe . . . you said you had drinks with him the other night. I thought everything was cool between you two. I never would have agreed to it if I'd known there'd be a problem."

"It's not that, Joe. I just don't know if we're the kind of lawyers Elliott wants, or expects."

Understanding her concern, Joe reassured her, "That was my first thought . . . okay, my second thought -- my first thought was how much money we would make." They both laughed. "I made it perfectly clear to him that even though he was retaining our services, there were things we wouldn't do and things we wouldn't put up with. We're a rare breed -- attorneys with consciences who like to sleep at night. Even if he thought differently of me, he knows you too well to think we'd do anything shady. Besides, he told me that if you didn't like the idea, we could back out of the contract."

Catherine relaxed into her chair with a relieved look. Joe watched her and could almost see the little wheels turning in her brain. A smile graced her lips and worked its way up to her eyes. As her face lit up, Joe finally began to relax. She leaned forward to take some candy from the dish on her desk. A familiar, cheeky look appeared on her face as she tossed him one of the pieces.

"Well, partner, we better start interviewing. Sounds like Maxwell, Chandler, Corrales and Associates is in the big-time."