Breach Of Promise

“I was willing to do that, since it was the main obstacle to our getting married,” Lindy explained. “He told me-he promised-that if I signed the paper we’d get married. And that’s, I swear to God, exactly how it went.”

“And then?”

“And then, like I said before, he had to go out of town. When he came back, I said if we didn’t get married, I’d leave him. And he sweet-talked me. He didn’t want me to leave. In other words, live with it. And I stayed, because I loved him. That’s the whole story, Nina.”

Nina put aside the melange of thoughts Lindy stirred up, concentrating instead on writing as much as she could of the story on the legal pad in front of her.

“So, he didn’t hold a gun to my head,” Lindy went on, “or try to punch me out.”

“But he promised he’d marry you if you signed it.”

Lindy said bitterly, “That’s right. And I remember what you told me. I know there’s no legal help for somebody breaking their promise to marry you.”

“No, there are no breach-of-promise suits,” Nina said in a vague tone. “But a gift made on the assumption that a marriage will take place may be recovered.”

“What does that mean?” Lindy said.

“It refers to a seldom-used statute that harks back to the days of buggies and girls in crinolines you just reminded me about. But I think-I’ll get back to you about that.”

“How are we doing now, Nina? Have I wrecked everything?”

“This agreement isn’t good news, Lindy. You already know that. But I do have our two associates coming up to help us out soon.” She didn’t know exactly why she wanted to cheer Lindy up, since she was the one who really needed the cheering. “They are going to give our side a real boost.”

Lindy sounded subdued. “I’m sorry about lying. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you have to remember, I’m used to being the boss. I’m used to making strategy decisions without consulting anyone, except maybe Mike. And he wasn’t exactly available to set me straight this time around.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Listen, I’ll call your office from the gas station and give Sandy the number. She can leave messages there. Meanwhile, gotta go.”

“You’re leaving now?”

“I’ve got to run some errands over the next couple days, then I’m packin’ up my saddlebags and strappin’ on my spurs, so to speak. Good luck. Keep me posted.”

“You be careful,” Nina said, and a vision sprang into her mind of Lindy on a big white horse wearing that gold Egyptian necklace she had worn to the party trotting up Highway 50 past the casinos, heading for the foothills of Nevada. “Please.”

On the following Thursday, Winston and Genevieve arrived. Genevieve looked animated and ready for action. Sporting fresh bags under his eyes, Winston had a strangely hangdog expression on his face.

While they waited in the conference room for Mike Markov to arrive so that they could finish deposing him, Nina took Winston aside.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I ended up working red at the roulette table on my way to bed last night. I swear, that wheel is the Jim Jones of gambling. It lures you with a few inspirational wins so you get cocky. You start betting numbers. You win some more. People are clapping and shouting, all riled up, watching the chips stack up in front of you. Then suddenly the room goes cold. The balls slips into a zero and then a double zero. The croupier rakes it all in.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Really? I lost ten-over two thousand dollars.”

Had she heard right? Nina felt steamed. She could have used some of that money. “Two hundred’s about my limit, even when I’m on a real bender.”

“Worst part is, I’d do it again.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t live up here.”

“Doesn’t matter where I am,” Winston said, “I’m having a ball and taking too damn many risks.”

Mike Markov walked in with Jeff Riesner, immediately making it clear his whole attitude had hardened. Nina explained that Lindy had decided not to attend any further depositions, and he said, “Good.” Then he said his prepared piece, that any offer of settlement was withdrawn.

These preliminaries settled, they hunkered down to the task of looking at the other thirty-four exhibits, the business records, and miscellaneous notes that came from a twenty-year relationship. After Winston greeted his old pal Riesner with a hearty show of chumminess that came close to making Nina feel uncomfortable, he settled down next to Nina, politely ignoring him. Genevieve lurked so inconspicuously in her corner Nina frequently forgot she was there.

As soon as she could, Nina got back to the agreement. “Okay. It says here that the parties hereby agree to keep their separate property separate.”

“Right.”

“So you would get the business, which was in your name. And all the other substantial assets like the mansion, which came later, went into your name.”

“Yes.”

“And what did she get? What was her side?”

“Her salary. Whatever she accumulated in her name, that was hers.”

“What was her salary at the time you signed Exhibit One?”

Mike thi

“Well, according to Exhibit Twenty, the business lost money thirteen years ago, the year this was signed. Does that refresh your recollection?”

“Probably wasn’t much of a salary that year. But it got a lot better,” Mike said.

“Yes, but that year she signed the agreement, Mr. Markov, what was she getting out of it? What did you exchange for her giving up her right to any ownership interest in the company?”

“The company wasn’t worth anything, either. Nothing for nothing. That’s about what we exchanged.”

“The company was in the red, but it wasn’t worthless. You still had the name and some equipment, and you opened a gym in Sacramento that year, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So what did Mrs. Markov get out of the deal?”

Winston leaned over and whispered, “You know what you’re doing?”

“Tell you later,” Nina whispered back. Riesner’s ears had pricked up, but he seemed as in the dark as Winston about where she was going.

“Whatever she had was hers,” Markov said.

“Isn’t it true that you promised that if she gave up her rights to the business, you would marry her?” Nina said.

Riesner stirred, but sat back, apparently unable to justify in his own mind any objection to this line of questioning.

“No,” Markov said. “She may have hoped I would, but it’s not the same thing as me saying the words like that.”

“So you never said the words?”

“Never did.” Markov looked very uncomfortable.

“You just led her to believe you would?”

“She believed what she wanted.”

“Do you consider yourself an honest man, Mr. Markov?”

“Wait a minute-” Riesner said, but Markov was already saying, “That I am.”

“Then I ask you to tell me this, after careful reflection if you need it: did you know that she believed that in exchange for signing this agreement you would marry her?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Read the question back,” Nina told the reporter.

The reporter repeated the question.

“She said, ’Now we can get married,’ “ Markov answered. “I never said it to her. She said it to me.”

“Before or after she signed?”

“I don’t know. Before, I think.”

“This line of questioning is going nowhere,” Riesner interrupted. “There’s no cause of action for breach of promise to marry. Even if he did promise to marry her, so what?”

“That’s true,” Nina said. She looked at the stenographer, who was doing her job, moved on with her questions, and left that interchange with Markov sitting in the deposition transcript like a charge of plastique in a Belfast trash can.