Trial by Fire

Chapter 14

Mark had prepared Dahlia carefully the night before for the deposition on Friday. He had gone over the expected questions the car rental company’s insurance company and their lawyers would ask her and the curves they would probably throw her. Her simplest answer to everything was the truth, and Mark was confident she would handle it with intelligence, honesty, and grace. The insurance company was bringing three lawyers with them, and only one would handle the deposition itself. There would be a stenographer in the room to record it. Marilyn Nicasio would be there with her attorney and Mark was bringing one of his lawyers, mostly for appearances. He didn’t need the help. This wouldn’t have been a major case if it weren’t for who Dahlia was, and the obscene amount of money Marilyn Nicasio was asking for. She had now added to her claim that she was suffering extreme pain from the whiplash, resulting in migraine headaches, alleged fevers at night, and post-traumatic stress, and that her daughter was supposedly showing evidence of psychological damage. And Ms. Nicasio was unable to work. She was caring for all her daughter’s needs herself. And she was suing both the car rental company and Dahlia personally. Meanwhile, Dahlia had a broken leg and really did have headaches and nightmares, and wasn’t suing anybody. Mark was filing a claim for her with the trucker’s insurance company, but Dahlia would only let him ask for medical expenses, and she didn’t even want that, and no damages.

“This is only about greed and a big settlement,” Mark reminded her again as he drove her to the deposition. He was convinced that there was an element of fraud and was counting on his investigator to uncover it.

The deposition was being held in the insurance company’s offices downtown, in their conference room. Mark and Dahlia were met by an assistant when they arrived, found the young lawyer from Mark’s law firm already waiting for them in the lobby, and went upstairs to the floor where the conference room was. There were pitchers of water the length of the table, and glasses at each seat, and soft drinks on a side table. The insurance company’s three lawyers were waiting, and two minutes after Mark and Dahlia, Marilyn Nicasio arrived with her bearded lawyer in a shiny gray suit that looked like silk. She was wearing a turquoise bodysuit with the sling they’d seen before, and a shoe with rhinestones on it and the boot on her ankle. She gave Dahlia and Mark a dark look and sat down, whispering to her lawyer.

“May we begin?” Herb Mayer, the chief counsel for the insurance company, asked the assembled group, and they all agreed. They wanted Dahlia to go first, and she walked up to the seat they indicated at the far end of the table, using her crutches, and sat down next to the stenographer, who was typing on a small black machine. Everything appeared to be in order. Mayer was a large, portly, bald man who had been defending the company against claims for thirty years. Mark had never met any of them before, since this wasn’t his specialty, and he sat down close to Dahlia so he could confer with her or stop her from answering an inappropriate question they had no right to ask her.

She gave her name, home address in Paris, and waited for the first question, which came quickly. All of the questions were about the night of the accident, what she had been doing before, had she imbibed any alcohol, or taken any medication, was she supposed to be wearing glasses and wasn’t. And they got to the key question very quickly, about the order of when she’d been hit, and when she hit the car in front of her. Her testimony was consistent and solid, and they didn’t throw her any curves. Mark was satisfied. And, quite correctly, she said she didn’t recall anything after she hit Ms. Nicasio’s car because she’d been unconscious. They also asked her about the injuries she’d sustained, which she reported matter-of-factly, without drama.

They took a break then, and Marilyn Nicasio took the witness seat when they came back. She had been whispering frantically to her lawyer in the shiny gray suit in the hall, and as he walked past, Mark noticed he had a diamond stud in his ear. He looked like everything other lawyers said about personal injury lawyers, and Mark looked right through him as he walked past. Mark’s reputation in his own specialty of corporate defense law was legendary and everyone in the room knew who he was. Herb Mayer was very respectful of him. He was well aware that Dahlia had made no claim against the insurance company although the airbags in her car had never opened, and she had a valid claim against them if she chose to enforce it. She had refused to do so, so far, but she still could.

To the list they already knew, Marilyn Nicasio added that Dahlia had been driving too close to her for some time. They stopped and asked Dahlia about it, and she said that she couldn’t see the end of the hood of her car, so she wasn’t aware of it, and didn’t see any lights in front of her in the smoke. Mark was sure it was a fraudulent addition. He thought Marilyn Nicasio was lying through her teeth. It was useful for Mark to see how the Nicasio woman performed, her attitude and her aggressive looks at Dahlia, and she cried when she spoke of her daughter’s injuries and her own, and said she was on pain medication. When they had asked Dahlia the same question, she said she wasn’t, and hadn’t taken any since her release from the hospital, despite the headaches she still had occasionally from the concussion, which they had told her at the hospital were to be expected.

Marilyn Nicasio offered no explanation as to why neither she nor her daughter had been wearing seatbelts. She said she thought her daughter’s was broken, but wasn’t sure.

Dahlia came across as a dignified, respectful, not hysterical woman who reported the facts, and if anything, played them down. Marilyn Nicasio was milking it for all it was worth. Everyone in the room knew who Dahlia was, and Mark was sure that they had all googled her and read the estimates of her worth, which was colossal by normal standards. The company alone was worth a fortune. Marilyn had stars in her eyes as a result, enough so to lie and enhance her testimony about her injuries to get the five million dollars she wanted. He was sure that her sleazy-looking lawyer had helped her pick the amount, guessing that they’d wind up with one million if they asked for five. And another million from the rental car company.

The insurance lawyers thanked them for their cooperation, and they all left the building at six o’clock. It had been a long four hours and Dahlia felt drained.

“How are you doing?” he asked her, as they drove to the hotel to pick up the dog.

“I’m exhausted,” she said honestly. “My God, that woman is awful. She’s so blatant, and she looks so cheap,” she said, and he smiled.

“What did you expect? I particularly liked her attorney’s suit. I’ll have to find out who his tailor is,” he said with a grin, and she laughed.

“The trial is going to be so ugly.”

“If it happens,” he reminded her again. The mediation hearing was ten days away, and Mark wasn’t optimistic that they would come to any agreement. The pressure would be on in the two weeks afterward before the trial date.

Mark ran into the hotel to get Francisco and Dahlia’s bag so she didn’t have to go upstairs, and they took off for Stinson as soon as they were in the car. Mark could see her relax visibly as they drove, and by the time they were on the winding road, she was herself again. He was pleased to see that she had come through it impressively and was the perfect witness he had believed she would be. He was proud to be defending her.

They stopped in the village to buy groceries. He had promised to cook steaks on the barbecue, and she was going to cook the rest. And as soon as they walked into the house, he took her in his arms and kissed her. “You were terrific and I’m proud of you,” he said, and she smiled.

“I wish it would all just go away,” she said.

“Then we wouldn’t be here together,” he reminded her, and she sighed. They went to change their clothes. She had bought black baggy sweatpants she could wear over her cast, and put on a pink sweater with them. The air was cool at night at the beach.

He made the steaks while she made a salad to go with them, and they ate dinner on the deck. They could see stars peeking through the thin veil of smoke overhead, and they didn’t bother to watch the news. They were tired of all the bad news and tragic stories they’d been seeing for three weeks. The reports never changed, only the direction of the wind to fan the flames in new directions. It was a vicious trick of nature.

They put their dishes in the dishwasher and went to bed and made love, and in the morning, Mark took a run on the beach with the dog, and she made him an omelet when he got back. They went to buy the newspaper after breakfast and saw that the fire had added another county to devour, and another thousand people had been evacuated.

“That’s North Marin,” Mark commented to Dahlia when he read the paper, “just north of here.”

“Is it close?”

“Close enough, but the wind is pushing it away from here.” The flames had demolished an entire development of houses and a hotel during the night, like an insatiable beast.

They sat on the deck and read all afternoon, and Mark looked over at her and smiled, and they wound up back in bed before dinner. They barbecued again, chicken this time, and they were just sitting down to eat when they both noticed the smell of smoke. Mark looked up and saw streaks of black smoke in the sky.

“I think the wind has shifted,” he commented as they ate, and she was taking their plates into the kitchen, walking on her cast without the crutches, when Mark looked at the hills above them, and saw a rim of fire all along the ridge. They watched it race across the crest of the hill above them. “Shit, get your bag, Dahlia, we’ve got to leave. There are only two ways out of here, past those hills or the way we came. I’m not going to wait till the fire comes down the hill.” There was enough dry grass to feed it, and they could sit in the ocean if they had to, and watch the beach houses burn, but he wasn’t waiting for that. He turned off the barbecue and told her to hurry. They piled into the car with her bag and his briefcase and Francisco, and a few bottles of water and a bowl she grabbed for the dog, and headed out of the gated community toward the winding road. Mark kept glancing up at the hills, at the flames that were getting brighter and coming closer as he stepped on the gas, and they reached the hairpin turns in the road within minutes. At any time, the flames could race down the hill and surround them, or cut them off and jump the road, and they’d be trapped.

“Do you think we should go back?” Dahlia asked him, as they raced around the turns, and she prayed that no one was coming in the opposite direction and would hit them. She was silent as she watched him handle the road at full speed. The hills above them were fully in flames now, and there were embers flying, and rocks that hit the car and bounced off. Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road for a second. He was trying to outrun the fire before it blocked them in the forest around them. They could hear sirens in the distance.

“Are you okay?” he asked tersely as he sped through each hairpin turn.

“Yes,” she said, and didn’t want to distract him. “Are you?” He nodded and kept driving, going faster, and skidded around the last bend, as they reached the straight stretch of road past Muir Woods, and he went faster. The next ten minutes were the scariest she’d ever experienced, but she didn’t say a word. There was a bright glow of fire behind them in the distance, and darkness ahead, which Mark suspected was smoke. He kept going, and five minutes later they were at the entrance to the freeway, and two firefighters and a police officer flagged them down.

“How bad is it back there?” one of the firefighters asked him.

“It’s bad and it’s coming this way fast. I don’t know how but we outran it.”

“Is there anyone behind you?”

“Not that I saw. I don’t know how many people are there tonight. And it took us by surprise. We saw the flames and ran.”

“Smart, or you could have spent the night on the beach in the water. The others won’t be able to get out soon. We’re going to airlift anyone there off the beach by helicopter.” Dahlia hoped Mark wouldn’t lose his lovely house, but all he had wanted was to get them both out and to safety. As he got on the freeway, there was heavy smoke overhead but they could still see the road. The wind had fully shifted in an hour, and the fires were in Marin County.

Mark didn’t speak until he had gotten them across the bridge safely and back into the city.

“Well, so much for a peaceful weekend at the beach.” He smiled wryly at her. “Sorry for the scary ride.”

“You were amazing.”

“I just wanted to get you out of there as fast as I could.”

“Do you think the house will be okay?” she asked him.

“I hope so. But you mean more to me than the house. Everything’s insured. So, what’ll it be? My place or yours?” he asked her with a grin. “We certainly don’t lead a dull life. Life in an inferno.” They decided that they might be safer at the hotel and could always go to his place in the morning, which they did. There was a cloud of black smoke hanging over Marin County, and the air quality had gone up to red again. Another hundred thousand acres had burned during the night.

They stayed at his place the next day and watched movies and ordered in food. They had Thai food and watched old movies. “This is like living through a war,” he said. But they forgot about it for a while, as they nestled in his big bed, with Francisco lying at the foot, snoring, and Mark set him down gently on the floor so they could make love. They spent most of Sunday in bed in his apartment, to avoid the toxic air. They couldn’t even open the door to the terrace, it was so bad by Sunday morning.

On Monday morning the mediation hearing was a week away. Time was running away from them, like the fires all around them. Mark wanted to stop time. They had three and a half weeks left in the time capsule fate had given them.

He looked at Dahlia across the breakfast table before he got dressed, and he looked serious. “I love you, Dahlia. I was so afraid on Friday night that something terrible would happen. Thank God it didn’t.”

“I love you too,” she said softly, and she had no idea what to do about it. There was nothing they could do. Their lives were firmly carved out, six thousand miles apart. She had been thinking about it more and more with each passing day. Each day that brought them closer to when she’d have to leave. Having to leave in a few weeks was starting to be real. “Can you handle that?” she asked him, since he had avoided loving and being loved for most of his life, especially the last twenty years.

“Probably not,” he said with a wry grin, and leaned over to kiss her across the table. “But I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” Dahlia said with a smile. And then he looked serious again.

“What are you going to do about your married boyfriend when you go back to Paris?” It had been worrying him and he needed to ask her, since she never mentioned it. This was their time, she didn’t want to think about Philippe.

“I don’t know yet how it will play out, or what I’ll do, but I’m not going back to him. I want to tell him in person. I think after six years, he deserves that. It won’t break his heart—it’ll be an inconvenience. He’ll have to find a new one. I’m replaceable,” she said matter-of-factly. Mark looked relieved when she said it. It had been gnawing at him.

“Will it break your heart?” he asked her.

“No, it won’t. Nor his. Leaving you will break mine,” she said, and they looked across the table at each other.

“To be continued,” he said, and got up to dress for work. He had a meeting, and her comment required a bigger answer than he could give her at the moment.

He kissed her when he left for work, looking very distinguished, and happy about their exchange over breakfast. He had been worried about Philippe, and he liked her answer.

—

As Dahlia cleared away the breakfast dishes in Mark’s apartment in San Francisco, her son Charles walked into Delphine’s office at Lambert in Paris. It was six o’clock, and he’d been waiting all day for her to be free. She was finally alone in her office. He walked in and slid into a chair across from her desk, looking like disaster had struck.

“What’s wrong? Are you going to complain about my department’s bills again?”

“Catherine is pregnant,” he said in one breath. “Mom is going to have a fit.”

“What do you want? Never mind Mom. You’re thirty years old. Do you love Catherine enough to have a child with her? Do you want to marry her?” He looked pale and didn’t answer.

“It’s a lot to take on.”

“You need to figure it out for yourself. Don’t tell Mom right now, she’s got enough going on to worry her.”

“Catherine has wanted another child for a long time. She’s turning forty in two months. She feels like it’s her last chance. And I wasn’t planning to marry her.”

“It’s not her last chance. I have a friend who just had a baby at forty-nine.” Delphine was practical and more mature than her brother. He looked confused and worried. At thirty, he was still na?ve about women.

“I don’t know what I want,” he admitted to her.

“You need to figure it out, for you. Not for Mom or Catherine.” Charles and Catherine had been living together for three years. He had never considered the future with her.

“I love her, but a child is a big commitment.” Delphine grinned at him in response.

“That’s for sure.” They talked about it. They both knew that their mother disapproved of his girlfriend. She wasn’t from their milieu, but he lived with her and said he loved her. But enough to marry her? He wasn’t sure. He gave Delphine a hug and went back to his office, no closer to a decision than before. But it was a relief to share his worry with his sister.

Delphine thought about him on the way home. He was two years older than she was, but he was still a baby. He had no real responsibilities except his job. He was serious about it, but he had walked into it. Their mother made everything so easy for all of them, and she forgave them everything and let them grow up at their own speed. Delphine had been married for five years, had a husband and two children, and a big job of her own. Having children made such a big difference. You couldn’t play at growing up then, you had to be there for them.

Her husband Francois expected her to be an adult. She listened to his business problems, told him what she thought. They made decisions together, fought over the children sometimes. His parents had never helped him with his start-ups. He had to figure it out for himself. He was thirty-five, and he sometimes resented how easy Delphine’s mother had made life for all of them. It had given them a great start, but they had no experience at problem-solving and had to fly on their own now. And she didn’t think Charles was ready for that, with a woman nine years older, and she babied him too. If he decided to have the child with her, he would have to stand up and be a man. And she couldn’t see Catherine being willing to give up the baby for him, because he wasn’t ready. He’d either have to take a giant leap into adulthood now, or admit he wasn’t up to it and just support her. If he stayed and faced it with her, maybe he would grow up. If he married Catherine, their mother wasn’t going to be happy about it, and he’d have to face that too.

He had created a man-sized mess, and now he had to deal with it. She didn’t envy him, as she drove home to her husband and two little girls. Annabelle and Penny. They were two and four years old, and a full-time job and commitment. And Francois was great with them. They both had big jobs. They loved and respected each other, which made it all work. She had no idea what her brother was going to do, and neither did he. A child was forever, which was one hell of a long time. And he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to give up his freedom for Catherine.