Breach Of Promise

One thing she noticed immediately. Cliff Wright perked up and paid attention when Winston talked. He laughed appropriately. He did not pick his nails. Wright liked Winston, preferred him to her. She wondered why.

And how did Winston appear so fresh? While the rest of the court wilted in the late afternoon, Winston’s warm, copper-colored face looked invigorated and ready to go. He was relaxed and utterly in control of the courtroom. During the days of depos and trial prep, Winston had kept such a low profile that Nina had begun to wonder if she had made a mistake in hiring him, that he had been grossly overrated. Now, seeing him in action, she understood his success. You couldn’t dislike him.

“Mrs. Markov,” he said to Lindy. “You said this morning that you worked alongside Mike Markov for many years at the company you both began.”

“That’s right. Literally alongside. We even shared an office.”

Winston strolled over to a stand next to the table. “Your Honor, we would like to submit to the court’s attention photographs taken of Lindy and Mike Markov in happier times.”

Riesner turned immediately to Rebecca with a whisper to show his complete disinterest. They had fought over showing the photos at a pretrial hearing and Riesner had lost.

The first board, a stiff, dry-mounted picture blown up to the size of a large poster, showed two desks, side by side. Behind one desk, Mike Markov beamed. Behind the other, Lindy beamed. Across the gap in the desks, they held hands.

“Will you describe this picture for me?” asked Winston.

“Objection, Your Honor. A picture is worth a thousand words,” said Riesner. “It speaks for itself.”

“Even a thousand words may not explain the circumstances in which the picture was taken, I’m afraid,” said Milne. “Proceed.”

“That’s… that was our office at Markov Enterprises. The office at our first manufacturing plant.”

“Located here in town?”

Lindy nodded. “On the hill going up from the ’Y’ intersection. We have offices there, plus a production facility.”

“For how many years did you and Mike share an office?”

Lindy said, “Always. The whole time. We liked being close to each other. We consulted with each other constantly.”

“What does that sign on your desk read?”

“Executive vice president.”

“Now, during the years Markov Enterprises has had its principal place of business at Lake Tahoe, what exactly has been your job description?”

“There wasn’t one. I did whatever needed doing, as I always had before. Marketing strategies, advertising campaigns, production timetables. I oversaw the day-to-day operating expenses. I helped develop long-term financial plans along with Mike and our accounting service. I trained our sales force and organized our employee benefits package. I hired and fired and promoted and dealt with the unions. As the business grew, my responsibilities grew. And I kept trying to think of new products like the Solo Spa.”

Winston seemed to need to study the pictures for a long time. Hands behind his back, he stood far enough away so that the jury had a straight shot at them. “What was Mike Markov’s title?”

“President.”

“You had desks the same size?”

“Yes.”

“If someone came in from the factory, for example, needing something, who would that person speak with first?”

“Whoever happened to be in, Mike or me.”

“Would you say when anything important came across your desk, it usually found its way to Mr. Markov’s desk?”

“Yes.”

“And if anything important landed on his desk, he rolled it over to you at some point?”

“Oh, yes.”

Winston took a marker pen out of his pocket, stared at it for a moment as if surprised to find it there, walked up to the picture, and playfully drew a circle around the two people and two desks. Turning back to Lindy he said, “Though you were two people, as far as your clients, your employees, and your business problems were concerned, the two of you operated as one unit, would that be correct to say?”

The linking of hands in the photograph served to emphasize the image he was suggesting.

“Objection!” said Riesner. “Vague. Leading.”

“Sustained. Leading.”

“Did you work together as a unit?”

“Yes. Like parents raising a family.”

“You shared equally in decision-making?”

“Nothing major happened in our business without my consultation and approval.”

“You dealt directly with clients?”

“Yes.”

“When someone called, say, a new shop interested in carrying your products, who talked to the client?”

“We both did.”

“How did you do that?”

“Any important phone calls that came in, Mike would signal me to pick up. Afterward, we discussed the deal and made a decision together.”

“Did employees at the business think you ran it together?”

“Objection,” said Riesner. “Calls for speculation.”

“Sustained.”

“Right,” Winston said. “We’ll get into that later.”

And, with Winston leading Riesner on a merry chase through the labyrinthian legal subtleties of testimony, eventually he did, taking Lindy through a description of a conference she had pla

She came off well, Nina thought as Winston wound things up with Lindy. You had to like someone who worked so very hard, who took responsibility, who loved her job and her man so loyally.

Didn’t you?

18

“Where’s Paul?” Genevieve whispered the next morning as Judge Milne took his place. “I would have thought he’d want to see some of this.”

“We don’t need him anymore,” said Nina, ignoring Genevieve’s perplexed look.

The trial started off with Winston, who wanted to unman the defense’s biggest weapon right up front. “I have here a copy of a document entitled ’Separate Property Agreement’ that appears to be signed by you. Have you ever seen this before?” he asked Lindy.

Nina, taking notes next to Genevieve at their table, continued to marvel at the transformation Genevieve and Lindy had brought about in Lindy’s appearance. Her simple clothing, lack of makeup, and graying hair made an utter contrast to the glamorous woman who had greeted Nina at the Markov party. She looked worn out, and therefore more vulnerable. She looked thin rather than muscular, and therefore weaker.

Taking the exhibit, Nina looked it over. Meantime, Winston waited quietly at the podium, directing the courtroom’s attention to Lindy.

“Yes,” she finally answered, looking at Mike. “A copy of it at my deposition. And before that, thirteen years ago.”

“How close can you come to a date?”

“Sometime in the mideighties, I’m not sure when; right after we came to California, Mike had me type up a paper and sign it. It was a one-page document.”

“What did you think you were signing?”

“It started off with saying something about how much we trusted each other. Then it talked about separating our assets.”

“Did you consult an attorney before signing this paper?”

“No.”

“Did Mike suggest you might do that?”

Lindy smiled slightly. “At that time, Mike didn’t like attorneys. He just asked me to sign it. He wrote it in the motel room in Sacramento where we lived when we came out from Texas.”

“What was happening at that time in your relationship?”

Lindy was looking at Mike again. Mike tried to look indifferent and failed. Rachel leaned forward from her seat behind him and whispered something.

“We were broke. We had liquidated our business in Texas. I’ve never seen Mike in such a bad state. Until now.”

“Move to strike the last two words as nonresponsive,” Rebecca said from next to Mike.

“The jury will disregard the last two words.”

“When you say ’bad state,’ what do you mean?”

Lindy said carefully, “Mike had failed before. He was angry. I think he felt helpless. He talked a lot about his ex-wife, how she had taken everything he had saved during his years in the ring. He thought our business troubles were a direct result of starting out with no money, and he blamed her.