Exposed (Rosato & DiNunzio #5)(14)

Mary kept writing:

On Thursday, March 30, plaintiff informed Todd Eddington that his daughter would require a bone marrow transplant, and Eddington asked how much the transplant would cost. Plaintiff didn’t know at the time, but told Eddington that the search charges to find a donor would cost approximately $60,00 to $100,000. Eddington stated, “These expenses are going to kill us this quarter. We can’t keep this up. They’re going to raise our rates.”

Mary knew it didn’t get any better than that in terms of proof. Eddington was practically admitting that he was going to find a way to cut Rachel’s medical expenses, which was homerun evidence for their case. She was always surprised at how many supervisors, bosses, and middle managers made statements that were completely unlawful, merely because they either didn’t know the law—or didn’t care. But not on her watch.

She wrote the next allegation in a more argumentative style to drive home the point:

It is no coincidence that the very next day, on March 31, Todd Eddington informed plaintiff by email that his region was being decreased from three mid-Atlantic states to just one, the smallest, Delaware. This employment decision was essentially a demotion and virtually assured that plaintiff would not be able to meet his sales quotas because …

Mary kept writing, detailing her facts, laying out the legal portion of the complaint, and finally arriving at the damages, which she left boilerplate, “in excess of $50,000,” since that was the minimum for federal-court actions. She would leave the amount open-ended until after she had studied the bills, which Simon had already emailed her but she hadn’t had a chance to review yet. Obviously, she wanted to get as much money as pos sible for Simon, but her strategy in settling cases was to start at a reasonable number, because it signaled that she was willing to settle.

The sun moved across the sky behind her, shifting a shaft of sunlight from her correspondence to her laptop, but she barely noticed. She ate lunch while she worked, a small garden salad brought to her by Judy, which made her feel better. She spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the draft complaint, writing a cover letter, and crunching the numbers for a settlement demand. It took her until the end of the day and she printed out the complaint, checking the hallway to see when Bennie came out of her deposition, which was in the conference room across the hall.

There was a commotion outside, and Mary grabbed the complaint and hurried out of her office. The deposition was over, and a weary court reporter, a few men in suits, Bennie’s friend Sam, and finally Bennie left the conference room, saying good-bye to Sam with a sheaf of exhibits in her hand.

“Bennie, got a minute?” Mary intercepted her, right outside the door.

“Just about,” Bennie answered, heading for her office.

“I won’t take long.” Mary had a plan, and this was the time to execute it. She followed Bennie into her office and closed the door behind her, while Bennie sat down at her desk, plopping exhibits in the middle. The strain of the day showed in her face, and her topknot was askew, with a pencil stuck in the middle.

“Is this about OpenSpace? Because we discussed that already.”

“But we’re not finished yet.” Mary stood her ground, literally and figuratively. “I looked at the rules, and it’s not as clear-cut as you might’ve thought.”

“I know that already and—”

“I really think that the circumstances allow me to take the case.”

“We have to agree to disagree for now.” Bennie met her gaze evenly, her eyes flashing a sharp blue. “I have work to do.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t agree to disagree because impasse won’t work in this situation. We have to find a middle ground.”

“There isn’t one.” Bennie’s mouth set in a grim line, and to Mary it looked as if her lips were chiseled in stone, but Mary told herself not to be intimidated.

“Yes, there is. I checked the rules, and if the client consents to my undertaking the representation, then the conflict is waived.”

“I know that too.”

“So that may be a way to break the impasse.”

“I know Nate very well, and he’ll be furious if I ask him to consent. I can’t imagine a worse move for client relations. He’ll take it as a breach of my duty of loyalty to him and to Dumbarton.”

“But he’d be wrong. We know that now. You can explain that under the rules, it’s perfectly ethical for me to take the case.”

“He’s a lawyer. He can read the rules as well as we can. He won’t see the circumstances the way you do. It’s a judgment call at best.”

“Here’s my plan. Here’s the complaint and demand letter I’ve drafted in this matter, which I would file if I were to represent the plaintiff.” Mary set the complaint on Bennie’s desk. “This case is so open-and-shut that I think we should proceed informally, maybe even less adversarially, which will work for us both.”

“How can litigation not be adversarial? That’s the fun part.”

Mary let it go. Bennie was weird sometimes. “But this case is so sympathetic and OpenSpace was clearly in the wrong. I have the facts, including contemporaneous notes by the plaintiff that are very convincing, and I detailed that in the complaint.”

“So?” Bennie glanced at the complaint with a frown.