Anything You Can Do(62)

As she flipped the coin for the twenty-first time, the time she promised herself would be the final tie breaker, Stafford Morris charged in, descended into one of her chairs, and propped his feet on her desk.

"Good morning," she snapped. "Come in. Have a seat. Put your feet up. Make yourself comfortable."

He sipped coffee from a large, thick mug, then pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and started to unwrap it.

"You light that in here, and I'll put it out in the exact center of your head," she warned.

"Better have some more coffee," he advised. "You need it." But he returned the cigar to his pocket. "Tough decision? I thought you'd really latch onto the idea of being in control of everyone's fate."

"Just keep it up, and I'll vote against you." Bailey snatched up her mug and drained it even though the coffee was stone-cold and pretty awful.

"So you're planning to vote with me. I thought as much. You like the status quo." He looked so smug, she thought of retrieving the cigar, lighting it, and carrying out her threat.

"Which doesn't mean I have the right to vote to keep it. What about other people's rights? What if this is the wrong decision? I don't want to control the fate of others."

Stafford lowered his feet to the floor with a thud and stood up, grinning. "Bailey, you take things too seriously. Vote the way you want to and make it a tie vote. I’ll break the tie."

"Not if I vote in favor, you won't," she retorted, springing from her chair and leaning toward him.

"Okay." He shrugged. "In that case, Hollis'll cast the deciding vote." Unwrapping his cigar, he left her office.

Typical irrational lawyer logic, Bailey thought, flopping back into her chair. Something you'd use to sway a jury.

She tossed the coin into the air again, slapping her hand on it as it landed, but not looking to see which side was up. Stafford's logic did make a kind of sense. At least, if you wanted to buy into it, it did. And boy, did she ever want to buy into it.

She rose, smoothed her navy skirt, and straightened her shoulders. He was right about some things, though. She did like the status quo, the small size of the firm, the familiar clients, even the incomprehensible way Stafford Morris chose to run things. And she could only cast her vote the way she felt was right, even if part of that "rightness" came from personal things like concern for Gordon's place in a big firm.

Having made her decision, she started confidently down the hall toward the conference room but was struck midway by a strange feeling she couldn't readily identify. After a few confused moments, she admitted it was concern for Austin. This was someone's career she was voting on, not a game or a contest, and winning didn't feel like winning anymore.

With an odd rush of elation, she hurried on to the meeting. If she was concerned about Austin, that meant he wasn't influencing her vote. She wouldn't be voting against him, only against the merger. Perversely, that made it okay.

*~*~*

True to his word, Stafford withheld his ballot until last. However, to Bailey's surprise, the final tally showed only two votes in favor and five against.

"Feel better?" Stafford boomed as he caught up with her striding down the hall after the meeting.

"Maybe, maybe not," Bailey evaded. "If I were one of the two dissenting votes, probably not."

"You weren't," he declared confidently.

"You sound awfully sure of yourself." She turned into her office door.

He laughed and waved his cigar as he strode away from her down the hall.

"Wait," she called, hurrying after him. "Did you know all along that someone had changed his vote?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he mocked her. "If someone did change his vote, it might be because somebody else talked some sense into him."

She followed him into his office and closed the door.

"But you let me keep on worrying!"

Stafford settled in his chair behind his desk and pulled some papers in front of him. "You voted for what you wanted. That's all that mattered. All that ever mattered. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

Bailey flopped into one of his chairs, settled her feet on his desktop, and crossed her ankles. Stafford glared at her, but she glared back.

"I have a problem—the firm has a problem—and, as managing partner, it becomes your problem." She told him what she had discovered about Candy Miller, omitting the more interesting details of how she uncovered the information. "It seems to me," she concluded, "that the firm has some potential liability."