his feet, clicked off the television, and tossed the remote control on the coffee table. “You look colorful.”
“I feel colorful,” she replied. He came toward her, smiling. She opened the closet door and ducked inside to grab her Rollerblades. “Let’s go.”
They sat on the apartment steps to lace up their skates, dropped their shoes in the vestibule, and headed for the long stretch of Memorial Drive closed off on Sundays for roller skaters and bikers. It was a hot day, bright with light bouncing off the Charles River paralleling their path. When they coasted under the graceful shady leaves of the ancient sycamores, it was like swimming through cool pools of air.
Jason was lean and muscular, but he was just a fraction of an inch shorter than Kelly, so she had to alter her stride a bit to match his as they went along, weaving in and out among the crowd. Still, they looked great together, Kelly so fair, Jason so dramatically dark.
Jason had known they would, the moment he saw her during a pre-trial conference where they represented opponents in a divorce case.
Jason was a junior lawyer for a prestigious Beacon Hill firm of which his deceased father had once been a partner. The very best of private education had honed his natural intelligence into a diamond-sharp dazzle. Quick-witted and shrewd, his mind flashed like a fencer’s foil, andthere was nothing he loved like a good opponent, which made him a formidable attorney—and a tireless suitor.
When they met, only months before, Kelly was still a lawyer for a small but growing firm based in Cambridge, but her hopes were high. She’d applied for a judicial position and just received a summons for an interview with the Eastern Regional Committee of the Massachusetts Judicial Nominating Council.
The law was her life. She loved what she was doing and dreamed not of walking down an aisle in a flowing white bridal gown, but entering a courtroom in a somber black robe. At thirty-four she’d never succumbed to that state of helpless dementia people called love, and that was fine with her. She had no time for love. No interest in it. As far as she was concerned, it was a conscious, deliberate choice people made to let themselves act like idiots. Absolutely not for her.
She had had several brief sexual liaisons of varying degrees of satisfaction. Sex was very nice, she realized, but god, it caused so many problems! She’d never seen a Venus flytrap, but she imagined love was like that: sensuous, alluring, so that people leaned forward to smell the fragrance, feel the satin petals—then snap ! All at once there they were, eaten alive. You couldn’t be a family court lawyer without developing some cynicism about what was called love. As well, there was her own past.
That first day, the moment she entered the conference room and set eyes on Jason, her entire body had bristled. Even now she wasn’t sure whether it was hostility or desire that caused that frisson. Perhaps both.
At one end of the long black conference table, Jason had been standing next to his client, leaning over her shoulder to point out something in a pile of papers. His gray suit clung to his lean body as only something tailor-made could do; Kelly was glad she’d worn her new black Calvin Klein. A thin gold Chopard watch gleamed against Jason’s left wrist; on the little finger of his right hand he wore a discreet gold signet ring stamped with his family crest. His lush black hair shone like polished onyx; his profile was sharp, bold, aristocratic. He might as well have worn a badge stating: OLD MONEY AND LOTS OF IT .
Kelly hated him on sight.
And on principle. She had no time for guys like this, born entitled, chauffeured along the paths of their lives in gleaming limousines. They had no clue about suffering, and suffering was what opened a person to the realization of the problems of others, Kelly believed. Suffering brought compassion. Men like Jason, privileged by birth—and stunningly
“I feel colorful,” she replied. He came toward her, smiling. She opened the closet door and ducked inside to grab her Rollerblades. “Let’s go.”
They sat on the apartment steps to lace up their skates, dropped their shoes in the vestibule, and headed for the long stretch of Memorial Drive closed off on Sundays for roller skaters and bikers. It was a hot day, bright with light bouncing off the Charles River paralleling their path. When they coasted under the graceful shady leaves of the ancient sycamores, it was like swimming through cool pools of air.
Jason was lean and muscular, but he was just a fraction of an inch shorter than Kelly, so she had to alter her stride a bit to match his as they went along, weaving in and out among the crowd. Still, they looked great together, Kelly so fair, Jason so dramatically dark.
Jason had known they would, the moment he saw her during a pre-trial conference where they represented opponents in a divorce case.
Jason was a junior lawyer for a prestigious Beacon Hill firm of which his deceased father had once been a partner. The very best of private education had honed his natural intelligence into a diamond-sharp dazzle. Quick-witted and shrewd, his mind flashed like a fencer’s foil, andthere was nothing he loved like a good opponent, which made him a formidable attorney—and a tireless suitor.
When they met, only months before, Kelly was still a lawyer for a small but growing firm based in Cambridge, but her hopes were high. She’d applied for a judicial position and just received a summons for an interview with the Eastern Regional Committee of the Massachusetts Judicial Nominating Council.
The law was her life. She loved what she was doing and dreamed not of walking down an aisle in a flowing white bridal gown, but entering a courtroom in a somber black robe. At thirty-four she’d never succumbed to that state of helpless dementia people called love, and that was fine with her. She had no time for love. No interest in it. As far as she was concerned, it was a conscious, deliberate choice people made to let themselves act like idiots. Absolutely not for her.
She had had several brief sexual liaisons of varying degrees of satisfaction. Sex was very nice, she realized, but god, it caused so many problems! She’d never seen a Venus flytrap, but she imagined love was like that: sensuous, alluring, so that people leaned forward to smell the fragrance, feel the satin petals—then snap ! All at once there they were, eaten alive. You couldn’t be a family court lawyer without developing some cynicism about what was called love. As well, there was her own past.
That first day, the moment she entered the conference room and set eyes on Jason, her entire body had bristled. Even now she wasn’t sure whether it was hostility or desire that caused that frisson. Perhaps both.
At one end of the long black conference table, Jason had been standing next to his client, leaning over her shoulder to point out something in a pile of papers. His gray suit clung to his lean body as only something tailor-made could do; Kelly was glad she’d worn her new black Calvin Klein. A thin gold Chopard watch gleamed against Jason’s left wrist; on the little finger of his right hand he wore a discreet gold signet ring stamped with his family crest. His lush black hair shone like polished onyx; his profile was sharp, bold, aristocratic. He might as well have worn a badge stating: OLD MONEY AND LOTS OF IT .
Kelly hated him on sight.
And on principle. She had no time for guys like this, born entitled, chauffeured along the paths of their lives in gleaming limousines. They had no clue about suffering, and suffering was what opened a person to the realization of the problems of others, Kelly believed. Suffering brought compassion. Men like Jason, privileged by birth—and stunningly
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