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Sunlight struggled through the leaded-glass windows of Fiske’s library. Classical violins screeched away on the CD player. Central air-conditioning forced frigid gusts onto my sandaled feet. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my client wanted to play chess. Who says lawyers have it easy?
I made my first move, pushing a white wooden Pawn up two squares. “Ta-da.”
“No,” Fiske said.
“No?”
“No.” He reached across the chessboard, picked up the little Pawn, and put it back down in front of my Horse.
“Don’t I get to move my own pieces?”
“That’s not the opening you want, dear. Remember what I said about dominating the center of the board?”
No. “Yes.”
“It’s like playing squash. One dominates the T.”
“Italians don’t play squash, they eat it. With a little bit of oregano, in olive oil.”
He smiled, relaxed today in a polo shirt and white cotton cardigan. “You play tennis, don’t you?”
“No, I work. A lot.”
He smiled. “But you’ve seen people play tennis. Paul, for example. Paul is a first-rate tennis player.”
Hmmm. Suddenly I suspected where this was heading, why Fiske had asked me here. And it wasn’t to move Pawns around. Or maybe it was.
“Unlike some players, Paul knows instinctively when to stay at the baseline and when to charge the net. He has a natural advantage in his height and he exploits it. When he does take the net, he becomes a real threat. Do you know why?”
Because he’s God’s gift? “No, why?”
“Because he understands the power of the position. He dominates the court. He’s quick and sure in his reactions and nothing gets past him, not even down the alley. In effect, he takes the center of the board, every time. Like this.” Fiske reached over the chessboard, picked up the Pawn in front of my King, and placed it two spaces in front of its former home. “Do you see what I’m doing?”
Duh. “Yes.”
“Now you’ve taken a power position vis-à-vis the rest of the board. You’re asserting dominion. You’ve taken your advantage, being white, and exploited it. In effect, you’ve charged the net.”
“Ooh, I feel tingly all over.”
Fiske eased back into his tall leather chair. “Do you know why I didn’t move the Queen’s Pawn?”
“What if I told you I didn’t give a shit?”
“I’d tell you anyway.”
“I figured.” I laughed. Fiske wasn’t really a bad guy, it was just his upbringing. He’d had a stable family, a stone mansion, and a trust fund, when what he really needed was a butcher and a vinyl stool.
“I didn’t move the Queen’s Pawn because that would have exposed your King and made him vulnerable to attack. Too much risk without good reason.”
I booed.
“Exactly.” He smiled, then it faded. “You know, Rita, you took a risk-too much risk-in that gambit of yours at City Hall. I should never have agreed to it.”
But you did. “You didn’t have a choice,” I said, and let it go at that.
“I am grateful to you. Thank you, if I haven’t said so already.”
“You have, and you’re welcome, but I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me. I had a good reason.”
He paused. “That’s just what Paul said, you know, when I took him to task for going to City Hall after you. He said he couldn’t just sit back and see you harmed. That’s the kind of man my son is, Rita.”
I felt a guilty twinge. “I do appreciate what he did.”
“I know you do. But I also know he’s moved out. He told me you two were having problems. The stress of the trial, the demands of your two careers.”
I guessed Paul hadn’t told him about Patricia. Wise move. “Is that what he said?”
He nodded. “He wants to come home, Rita.”
“I understand that.” Paul left messages on the machine every day, but I didn’t call back.
“He loves you very much.”
“I understand that, too.”
“You have a lot invested in this relationship, a lot of time. You own a house together, you’ve made a life together.”
Hadn’t I heard this somewhere before? “Like you and Kate.”
“Yes. Like Kate and me. Although I feel terrible for what happened with Patricia, I’m lucky to have Kate. We’re happy together.”
I thought of Kate’s French plates, the figures facing each other on the kitchen walls. “And you want me to take Paul back.”
“I do. Whatever he has done, whatever is your point of disagreement, there is one fact that cannot be denied and certainly shouldn’t be overlooked. He risked his life for you, Rita. He put himself in jeopardy, for you.”
Ouch. “So I should take him back, out of guilt?”
“Of course not. But the point is, how many men would do something like that?”
I thought of Tobin, wondering. “Did Paul put you up to this?”
“No. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that I put him up to this.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s your move, Rita,” Fiske said, and looked beyond me, over my shoulder. I twisted around.
There, in the open doorway, with a look of surprise on his bruised face, stood Paul.