Breach Of Promise

“Every day, we got du

“Why?” Winston’s soft, sympathetic voice.

“I was handy,” Lindy said. “He’s a proud and stubborn man. He started imagining that I was going to leave him as soon as the agent sent our check, take the money and get as far from him as I could. Then he said he was going to disappear one day and I’d be better off. He was having such a hard time, I didn’t know what he would do.”

“And what was your response to that?”

She had everyone’s attention. Nina saw a few unconvinced looks, and hoped Winston’s next few questions would erase those.

“I told him he could have all the money when it came, and put it in a bank account just in his name, if it would make him feel better. I wouldn’t take anything. That way he wouldn’t have to worry anymore that I would leave him or something.”

“You offered to give him your share of the check?”

“It made no difference to me, as long as we were together.”

“If you made yourself pe

Lindy pushed herself up. “I never said that!”

At the same time, Riesner jumped up from his chair and began objecting.

And at the same time, Winston calmly said, “Withdrawn.”

Milne called Winston and Riesner to the bench. Leaning away from the jury so he wouldn’t be heard, Milne hissed a few words to Winston that had Winston nodding his head and promising he’d never do it again. Winston had sprung that inspired cruelty on Lindy; it had certainly never been rehearsed in the office conference room. Nina was sure it was spontaneous; he hadn’t prepared that outburst of eloquent questions that had forced Lindy into a protective stance and made the real relationship spring to life for the jury.

Now, as Winston received his dressing-down, the jury had plenty of time to sit there and think about Mike and Lindy, about a man’s irrational and sour fears when he hits bottom for the second time, and a woman’s willingness to give too much to help him.

Nina knew she couldn’t have done that to Lindy. She would feel too much compunction. Also, she felt Lindy’s mortification at having these things stated so baldly. Lindy looked shamefaced, like a wife admitting to but excusing a husband that beats her every Friday night.

Dynamite, Genevieve scribbled on her pad for Nina’s benefit.

“What happened then?” Winston now said. The lawyers had returned to their places. Lindy sat very straight and stared straight ahead. She no longer trusted Winston.

“I had found a space we could use to set up a boxing ring and a supplier who would set us up on credit. That week a check came from the agent. All we had from seven years of hard work. Twelve thousand five hundred dollars. That night, Mike asked me to type up and sign this exhibit.”

“Referring to Cross-Complainant’s Exhibit One. And you have already testified that you signed it.”

“Yes.”

“Now, let me ask you this, Lindy.” Winston’s voice dropped, and everybody leaned in closer so as not to miss a word. “Let me ask you this simple but important question.”

“Yes?” Lindy was all but vibrating, knowing what was coming.

“Why did you sign this document?”

In the silence that followed Nina heard Mike’s stentorian breathing.

“Because Mike said we would get married if I signed it. We’d get married and try to gut it out.”

A mass exhalation. Several jurors wrote that statement down.

“He promised to marry you?”

“Yes. You know, legally.”

“So long as all the money and power were kept completely in his hands?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. So long as-his property was kept separate. He needed that. It was important to him, and it didn’t matter to me, don’t you see?”

Winston started to comment on her reply, then thought better of it. He thought for a moment, tapping his hand on his chin, and Nina saw again how he used pauses to suck in all the wandering attention. She was learning from him.

He said eventually, compassionately, “But you didn’t get married.”

Lindy explained again how Mike pocketed the agreement and left for Texas to sign the final paperwork terminating their business there. Winston let her talk.

“When he got back, I kept saying to Mike, let’s do it, it’s so simple, just go to a justice of the peace and make it official. But“-she held her palms up and shrugged-”we just never did.”

“You opened a checking account to deposit the check?”

“Mike did, yes.”

“Was your name on it?”

A wary shake of the head. “No.”

“Did you move?”

“Oh, yes. Within a week. To an apartment near Howe Avenue.”

“Was your name on the lease?”

“No.”

“Did you lease the exercise facility and sign some contracts for services and equipment?”

“No.”

“Mike did?”

“Yes.”

“Did the business begin making money?”

“It took off, and we never looked back,” said Lindy with whatever pride Winston had left her.

“Did the business eventually incorporate as Markov Enterprises and were stock certificates issued in that name?”

“Yes,” she said, and in a voice Nina could barely hear, she added, “and my name wasn’t on them.”

“Did you protest to Mike?”

“No. I just asked him again-this was about ten years ago. Could we-let’s get married, I said. Like you promised. And he said when the time was right. And I let it go.”

“You relied on his promise?”

“I relied on Mike. I always have. I always gave him my complete trust.” Her voice sounded surprised, as if only now, in front of the jury that would judge her actions, could she acknowledge that she had been foolish.

“You subsequently established your primary manufacturing facility for exercise equipment here in Tahoe-”

“Yes.”

“And…”

“And, yes, my name wasn’t on anything.”

“Then you bought that beautiful house up on Cascade Road. That wonderful mansion,” Winston said sadly. “Who found the house and dealt with the realtor?”

“Mike was busy, so I…”

“Who put in the flowerbeds and bought the furniture and oversaw extensive remodeling-”

“That was me.”

“And who lived there for ten years, only to be thrown out of it like a dog because your name wasn’t anywhere to be found on the ownership papers?”

“Oh, stop, please!” Lindy said, tears flowing down her thin cheeks.

Winston had made her cry.

“Court’s adjourned until one-thirty. Mr. Reynolds. Get your-get up here.”

On cross examination after lunch, to no one’s surprise Riesner focused on Exhibit 1. Nina took on the job of making the objections from Lindy’s table. Lindy now sat at her right, Winston and Genevieve on her left. The jury filed in, Mrs. Lim, looking stern in her checkered suit, in the lead.

Riesner was in fine form, with a bright, new silk tie in gold and red, buffed from his nose to his toes. The bruise on his cheek gave him a slightly reckless look. His air of false sympathy for Lindy had the exact impact he must have hoped for, casting doubt upon her sincerity.

Then he got to play with visuals, dreamed up during some midnight meetings to engage those media junkie, Generation X jurors, Nina presumed. Tacking a large piece of blank paper over an easel standing at the front of the room, he took a marker pen. “Agreement,” he said, while he wrote at the top, “between Lindy and Mike. Lindy gets half of everything, including the business. And here’s a space at the bottom for you and Mike to sign. Did you ever give Mike a paper like that to sign?”