Look Closely. Laura Caldwell

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      Beth slumped into a chair. “God, I feel the same way. I even thought about quitting, but this is a great job when I don’t have to deal with the boss. I don’t know what to tell you except what I’ve learned about the Fieldings deal since yesterday.”

      “I think I’d better hear it from McKnight himself. Where is he, by the way?”

      Beth gave a shake of her blond head. “He should be here any minute. You’ve heard what he’s like?”

      “I’ve heard he’s an asshole,” I said, deciding that now wasn’t the time to mince words.

      I saw Beth’s face go slack, then heard a rough laugh behind me. I swung around to see a man standing in the now open conference doorway. He must have been in his late fifties, but the trim body and the immaculate blue suit made him look younger. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed away from his sharply angled face.

      “I assume you’re Ms. Sutter,” the man said. He walked into the room and extended his hand. “I’m the asshole.”

      I stood, feeling heat rush to my face, but I was still angry about being kept in the dark, so I decided not to go overboard in my apology. I shook McKnight’s hand, feeling his strong, dry grip. His green eyes ran quickly over me, before they settled on my own eyes with a look of complete concentration.

      “I’m sorry you heard that,” I said. “I’m sure it’s not true.”

      “Oh, I’m sure it is.” He didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he stood there holding it, intently studying my face, until I pulled away.

      I made a show of looking at my watch. “We need to get to work. Why don’t you start by telling me about the Fieldings deal.”

      McKnight took a seat at the head of the conference table. “You’re all business, aren’t you?”

      “Isn’t that why you hired me?”

      He gave me a tight smile. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

      I flipped through my legal pad to the list of questions I’d prepared last night in my hotel room. The questions were those that the plaintiff’s attorney might ask McKnight on cross-examination.

      Once I got him talking, I found myself relaxing somewhat. Technically, the man would make an excellent witness with his obvious intelligence, his even more obvious good looks, and the way he never hemmed or hawed, never seemed edgy or defensive. He had brought with him a stack of documents, meticulously organized and tabbed, which he referred to every so often. He’d prepared well for the arbitration, and that impressed me. So many clients thought that I could—and should—do all the work for them.

      His explanation of the Fieldings allegations sounded plausible, too, yet something still gnawed at me. The way he told the story, the Fieldings family members had been undecided over whether to sell to McKnight Corporation. Sean had had a talk with Walter Fieldings, the founder and eldest family member, and convinced him that it would be in the family’s best financial interests to sell. Walter Fieldings had, in turn, convinced the rest of the family, and the deal went through. Yes, McKnight said, there were some grumblings that he had pulled some kind of trick. The authorities had even questioned him, but everyone realized the blackmail allegations weren’t true, and nothing came of it. He’d never been charged with anything, and he made the Fieldings family very rich.

      “And that’s it?” I said, the incredulity slipping into my tone despite myself. “There’s nothing more to the story? You just had a talk with Papa Fieldings, and the deal fell into place?”

      “Essentially, yes.” McKnight leaned forward on his elbows. His eyes held mine, and I wondered for a second if he was one of those older guys who hit on every woman under forty. For some reason, that thought didn’t strike me exactly right. There were a handful of those types in my office, and they were much more overt—staring at your breasts, letting their hands run over your back as you passed them.

      “Are you doubting me?” McKnight asked.

      “I’m trained to doubt everyone.”

      “How interesting.” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, as if waiting for me to make the next move.

      “Look,” I said. “I’m not trying to antagonize you, but if you want to avoid a trial, we need to win this week, and if we’re going to win, we need to make sure you sound credible.”

      “Are you saying I don’t seem credible?” McKnight’s tone was low and, to be honest, scary.

      “I’m simply saying that in case they’re allowed in, you have to be ready for some intense questions on this issue. Your story needs to be perfect.”

      McKnight’s gaze never left my face. “Well, Miss Sutter, what part of my ‘story,’ as you put it, don’t you believe?”

      I reviewed the notes I’d taken. It was a good question, because I couldn’t exactly find fault with his rendition of the events. He was the problem, I realized. I didn’t trust him, and that made me very anxious. Any lawyer’s worst nightmare is a client you can’t trust, who might hold things back or take matters into his own hands. McKnight struck me as that type, but I couldn’t very well tell him that. In one month, the Gardner, State & Lord executive committee would vote on new partners. If I lost the McKnight account right before the vote, I might lose the partnership. I’d worked too hard to let this guy ruin it for me.

      “It’s nothing precise,” I said, raising my head to meet his eyes again. “As I mentioned, I just want you to be ready.”

      “If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s this. I am always, always ready.” He closed the file folder in front of him as if the subject were also closed.

      “All right then. Let’s review what’s going to happen this week.”

      I took them through what I expected of the arbitration step by step, and when we were finished, McKnight stood from the table and began moving toward the door. It was twelve o’clock, one hour before the arbitration started.

      “Please call if you want lunch sent up,” he said to me. “You do eat, right? You do require regular human sustenance?”

      I blinked a few times, confused at his hostility. “I’ve been known to eat once in a while,” I said wryly.

      “Good to hear it. I’ll see you at the arbitration.”

      “I think we should walk over together so that we can talk some more about your testimony,” I said.

      He stopped and turned around. “I think you’ve taken up enough of my time.” With that, he sailed out the door.

      I looked at Beth. “What the hell?”

      She rolled her eyes. “Don’t take it personally. Supposedly, he wasn’t always like this. I’ve heard that he used to be a decent guy until he got a divorce years ago. He was never the same after that.”

      “A divorce made him such a jerk? Are you kidding me?”

      She shrugged. “You never know what can push a person over the edge.”

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