Trial by Fire

Chapter 15

The mediation hearing went exactly as Mark expected it to. It was all about showmanship, threats, and flexing muscles to show strength and not compromise. Mark had warned Dahlia before that Nicasio’s lawyer would be tough, nasty, threatening, trying to convince them that they had everything to win at trial. It was basically a legally sanctioned shakedown to make Dahlia give them the five million they wanted from her personally, and to get the car rental company to give her an equal amount. Marilyn Nicasio wanted to walk away with ten million dollars, minus a third to her sleazy lawyer. That was her dream. Mark guessed that the reality was that she wanted a million from each and would be thrilled. She would quit her job, live high on the hog as long as the money lasted, and if she got lucky she would find a guy who was willing to marry her and support her before the money from the accident ran out.

The reality was that her injuries didn’t warrant that kind of damages. A broken ankle and broken arm just didn’t bring that kind of sympathy or price, particularly since she was in great part at fault by not wearing her seatbelt. Her whiplash was the oldest story in personal injury and hard to prove, and no one cared about her nightmares or her daughter’s, and Dahlia had them too. And all of her daughter’s injuries could have been avoided if her mother had made her wear a seatbelt. Their injuries were more Marilyn’s fault than Dahlia’s. Marilyn Nicasio wasn’t an appealing witness and didn’t elicit sympathy. Dahlia’s dignity, lack of complaints, and restraint from trying to sue the car rental company because of the airbags that didn’t open, or the trucking company, were far more impressive. She had integrity and it showed. Marilyn Nicasio was greedy, and that showed too.

She remained aggressive, nasty, and demanding during the entire mediation. She was rude to the mediator, told her own lawyer to shut up when he disagreed with her, and called Dahlia a rich bitch, which didn’t endear her to anyone. From her side’s standpoint, the mediation was a bust. And she was going to be an unsympathetic witness who’d be hard to control. From Mark’s viewpoint, he hadn’t expected anything different—in fact, he was pleased by how badly she’d behaved. Dahlia had been a lady and a star, which surprised no one. The mediator thanked them all for their time, with a look of extreme aggravation, dismissed them, and wrote a full report to the judge of the proceedings.

Mark was amused. Marilyn Nicasio was going to be a nightmare witness on the stand in front of a jury.

From that day on, they were on real time until the trial. Having been denied the settlement they hoped for, Marilyn’s side would be heatedly trying to negotiate for the next two weeks. They didn’t want to go to trial and take a risk. They wanted to settle and no one was willing to settle with them. They had a lot riding on one horse, and officially Dahlia wasn’t afraid of a trial. Mark knew that by then, Nicasio’s lawyer would be beginning to sweat. His silk suit would be soaking wet. A third of nothing was nothing, which was his risk as a contingency lawyer. If Marilyn got nothing, so did he. Attorneys of Mark’s stature were paid for their time and skill, win or lose. And contingency lawyers didn’t have big wins every time. Lawyers like Mark were much more likely to convince a jury and go home winners.

On Dahlia’s side, their investigator was working overtime to find out whatever he could about Marilyn to put the squeeze on her and her lawyer before the trial to drop the suit. Mark had faith in him that he would drop a plum in their lap in time, and he tried to convince Dahlia of that. She was worried as she waited, and just to get her out of the hotel and distract her, he suggested another weekend in Stinson, while he prepared a rough version of his opening statement for the trial, which he firmly believed he’d never use.

They hadn’t been to the beach since the fire on the hills. It never reached his gated community, and the firefighters managed to stop it on the hills and beat it back. The tides had begun to turn in Napa, Sonoma, and Marin Counties. The winds had been favorable, and the fires were now ten percent contained. It wasn’t enough, and they were far from over, but the air quality had improved slightly, and they were trying to beat back the fires every day. In the past month, three million acres had burned. The same had happened two years before, and it could happen again.

As Mark and Dahlia drove along the familiar hairpin turns, the hillside was charred from the road to the crest of the hills above it, and it reminded them both of their wild ride back two weeks before. The house looked pristine inside when they entered it, but needed a good power wash outside from the smoke. They unloaded the groceries, and Francisco rolled in the sand and barked at the birds, delighted to be back.

Mark bent to kiss Dahlia as she finished putting the groceries away. “Hamilton Special tonight,” he announced. “Burgers.” It made her wonder as she did constantly now what she would do when she was back in Paris, when there was no Stinson Beach and no Mark. In the past six weeks, being with him had become her life. She no longer went to her office, working remotely with her staff, and he was always on her mind. From the moment he came home from the office, her time was his. She was leading the life of a couple with a man she loved and would never see again, or maybe one day when he came to Paris for a holiday. More than that, she was leading the life of a woman with no children. Or children who were adults she hadn’t seen in two months and could fend for themselves. They were doing a very decent job of it, and she hardly spoke to them now. Her whole life didn’t revolve around them the way it had for thirty years. They didn’t need her in the same way anymore and it was healthy for them, and for her.

It all made sense with Mark, and without him, none of it would. She had a worldwide company to run six thousand miles away. She and Mark had taken a risk, but what would they do with it now? San Francisco was too far to commute. They might have pulled it off from New York, commuting to each other on alternate weekends. But California and Paris were worlds apart, twelve hours by plane with a nine-hour time difference. There was no way it could work, and they both knew it. They were staying off the subject, because there was no solution, only heartbreak ahead. They hadn’t thought of that when they threw their hearts over the wall. They had proven to themselves and each other that they were capable of being close. But there would be no way to be close geographically after the trial. The reality was cruel. They had won the lottery with a bogus ticket and there was no prize, except the love they had for each other.

—

Dahlia had a big date on Monday to take off the cast. Her leg felt strong now, although she had been warned it would look a mess when the cast came off, shriveled and dry, and she’d have to do physical therapy to get back its strength and muscle tone, but the bone would be fine.

She walked on the beach with Mark for a short distance and didn’t care if she got sand in the cast since it was coming off in two days. She put a garbage bag around it anyway, and walked along the water’s edge with Mark. She kept taking photos of him with her phone when he wasn’t looking or asleep, to take with her. She still couldn’t believe the day was coming when she’d have to leave.

Alex’s wedding was in two weeks. Everything was set, and they’d had more acceptances than they’d had for August first. Everyone would be back from vacation by September first. Alex hadn’t said thank you to her mother yet for the smooth transition and probably never would. It wasn’t in her DNA to be grateful or pleasant. She thought everything she had was her due. She was the only one of Dahlia’s children to feel that way, and all of them recognized their sister as the narcissist she was. She had talent and beauty and redeeming features, but gratitude wasn’t one of them, particularly to her mother, on whom she blamed all the ills of the world, and her life. Dahlia didn’t expect anything from her anymore. She just wanted to give her the best wedding she could. She was her child, for better or worse, and she loved them all. Some were easier to love, like Delphine. Emma was an enigma all her own. And Charles wasn’t fully cooked yet. He had a lot of growing up to do. Alex had a cruel side, which she unleashed on her mother at the slightest provocation, or with none at all.

Mark and Dahlia stopped at the edge of the water and sat down on the dry sand.

“I’ll be happy to get rid of this.” She pointed to her cast. “I won’t miss it.”

“I’m thinking of having it bronzed, in honor of the day I met you.” He knew the fires would always remind him of her, and the dog. He had no idea what to do with the rest of his life without her, but he accepted that that was how it was going to be. And going back to the way he had been no longer worked. He loved the closeness they shared. It didn’t scare him anymore, with her. And with anyone else, the closeness would be pointless. He was in love with her.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Harder than we thought,” she said, looking out to sea. “I thought it would be easy for six weeks, and then we’d go back to who we were before. It would be fun.”

“It is fun, with you,” he said to her, and she leaned against him.

“You made me different,” she said softly.

“We made each other different. It’s the combination,” he said, “of all the different elements. I’m better because of you, and more. And I’m going to be less without you.”

“Me too. Maybe this is all you get sometimes. A moment. A day. A year. Six weeks.” She and Jean-Luc had had five years. Others had fifty. This time she and Mark only got six weeks. They had to make it enough and take it with them, and feel blessed instead of cheated when it ended. She was working on it and so was he.

“I’ll race you,” he said, as they headed back to the house. “Winner take all,” he teased her, as she stumped along with her cast and the garbage bag over it.

“Very funny. Maybe I will go to jail, and then you can visit me.”

“No, you’ll go back to your kids and your job and your perfume. Just don’t let Alex torture you, or go back to that married jerk. He doesn’t deserve you. Maybe I don’t either,” he said. She hardly ever thought of Philippe now. He felt like part of another lifetime, ancient history. It made no sense anymore. It never did.

“It’s weird. You made me feel American again. I haven’t felt that way since I was a kid, in college, before we moved back.” But she couldn’t imagine a life in California with him, full-time. She had responsibilities in France, and a family business to run. She took their business seriously, and Delphine and Charles weren’t ready to run it yet on their own. One day, but not yet. And by the time they were, she and Mark would be too old to chase a dream. They had taken a risk, and she wasn’t sure if they had won or lost. If they had won, winning hurt.

The weekend at the beach was peaceful and just what they needed, before the impending storm of the next week. They closed the door regretfully on Sunday afternoon. They would be in trial, or waiting for the verdict, the following week, and they wouldn’t come to the beach house. Or if the trial was canceled, she’d be on a plane, back to Paris. She looked around for a last time, and had tears in her eyes when they left, and she was quiet on the drive home. They stayed at his apartment that night. They couldn’t bear to be apart now. Either way, it was their last week. The trial was starting on Wednesday.

—

Mark had a busy day on Monday, dealing with other matters, and wrapping up the final details before the trial. Dahlia went to the hospital for her appointment. They took off the cast and X-rayed her leg. It had healed perfectly, and she walked out on two feet. It felt weird not to have it on, and when Mark came home from work, she pointed.

“Look, two legs. And the broken one doesn’t look as weird as they said it would.”

“It looks good to me,” he said, and kissed her. They had dinner at the apartment, and he worked on his opening statement, just in case. His cellphone rang at ten o’clock that night. He was in his study, working. It was Harry, their private detective.

“You’re all set. We hit gold.” Harry sounded pleased with himself and had a right to be.

“Whatcha got? Dahlia never hit her. Nicasio backed up?” Mark joked with him.

Harry laughed. “Better than that. Full house. The sad news first. Johnny Block, the truck driver, had a nasty heroin habit. I’ve got the autopsy. It took forever to get it. He was high as a kite. That’s probably why he hit her, as much as the smoke. He plowed right into her, maybe nodded out at the wheel, we’ll never know, but the likelihood is that he hit her first. They’d never get ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ with that going on, and the charming Ms. Nicasio has been back at work wearing a jet-black wig for the last three weeks. She’s collecting a paycheck, which was dumb of her, so she lied. And her daughter has been out for summer vacation, not trauma, and her casts came off a week ago. She’s going back to school, right on schedule, her school is expecting her. Ms. Nicasio is no longer wearing the boot, to work or anywhere else. The ankle was declared healed two weeks ago, and I’m not sure about the arm, but I have a feeling the sling is purely decorative. And we have a great photo of her at her aerobics class. She’s been going to a spinning class, and she goes to yoga at the Y, so I think the whiplash is bullshit too. There goes your trial and her ten million dollars right out the window, on wings. And I’ve got photos for most of it.” Mark was grinning from ear to ear as he listened.

“You are, once again, a genius,” he complimented the detective.

“No, I just know the right people who like to talk and follow other people around. I’ll shoot you an email with the written report and all the documentation. You’ll have it by the morning. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, and went to find Dahlia. She was half asleep in front of the TV, and he touched her gently to wake her.

“Oh, sorry. I was just resting.”

“I’ve got some good news,” he said gently. “Harry, the investigator, just came through.” He read her the list—he had written it all down so he didn’t forget anything—and she stared at him in amazement.

“Is it over?”

“It’s going to be. They can’t walk into a courtroom with that pile of shit. They’re going to be scrambling like crazy. I’ll call her lawyer tomorrow. They’ll be begging us to settle. They can’t go to trial,” he said, and she was wide-awake. They talked about it, and Dahlia felt sorry for the young truck driver. He was twenty-four years old.

They talked about all of it for an hour and then went to bed. Mark got up early and went to the office. He called Herb Mayer, the head counsel for the insurance company, at nine a.m. sharp and shared the information with him. Herb was delighted. It was better than they could have hoped. He was going to contact Marilyn’s attorney and suggest a meeting in his office. Mark said he’d be there. The negotiation was beginning in earnest.

Herb confirmed the meeting to him twenty minutes later, and Mark was there five minutes early. Herb congratulated him on the good work.

The shyster lawyer was the last to arrive, and looked nervous, confronted by the big guns. He was outclassed the moment he sat down and they told him the lay of the land and how it was going to work. The car rental’s insurance company was offering ten thousand dollars in damages to Ms. Nicasio, and ten thousand to her daughter, and Mark said that Ms. de Beaumont was willing not to press charges of fraud against Ms. Nicasio and was offering her nothing.

Her lawyer squealed like a little pig and was begging for mercy within an hour. He stood to make ten thousand on the case, which no one cared about. He begged for a hundred thousand for each of his clients and Herb Mayer laughed at him. The car rental company offered a hundred thousand to Dahlia for her injuries since the airbags malfunctioned, and Mark said two hundred thousand or they would sue, and he threatened Nicasio’s lawyer with a defamation of character suit, and extortion. Herb agreed immediately to the two hundred thousand for Dahlia, because he knew she could ruin them if she chose to. They raised their offer to twenty-five thousand each for Marilyn and Tiffany Nicasio. And they notified the court that the matter had been settled amicably, and the contingency lawyer withdrew the civil suit.

It was a productive morning, and everybody went away happy. Mark called Dahlia and she was at the hotel, organizing what she needed to pack. Francisco had half a suitcase just for his things.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Mark told her, and rang the doorbell of the suite ten minutes later. He was beaming when she opened it. He couldn’t wait to tell her. It was a spectacular victory. “The trial is canceled and the civil suit is withdrawn. Marilyn and Tiffany get twenty-five thousand each, which is more than they deserve, minus half to their lawyer, and you get two hundred thousand for your broken leg, and I magnanimously agreed not to press charges of fraud, extortion, and defamation of character on Ms. Nicasio. It’s a clean sweep.”

“But I didn’t want money.” Dahlia looked upset and Mark laughed at her.

“You deserve it. Their fucking airbags were defective, and you’ve been stomping around in a cast for a month and a half. Enjoy it.” She sat down on the couch and looked at him.

“I have a better idea. I want to give the two hundred thousand to the girl, in trust. She can use it for her education one day. And her mother can’t touch it, and the lawyer doesn’t get a penny of it. It’s a gift.”

“Are you serious?” He was shocked.

“Yes. One day she’ll need it, to get away from that awful woman. And she’ll never see that kind of money again. I don’t need it. She does.”

“They’re not going to believe this.”

“And make some bank a trustee. No one touches that money until she’s twenty-one or uses it for college before that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You are amazing.” It was only one of the many reasons why he loved her. She was an incredibly decent person.

“Let’s have lunch somewhere and celebrate,” he said, and she looked suddenly sad.

“What are we celebrating? I have to go now.” He looked like he’d been hit by a wrecking ball when she said it. “It’s over. And I have to go back to Paris. The wedding is in two weeks, and I’ve been gone for two months. I have no excuse to stay now.” She looked devastated.

“When are you leaving?” He looked panicked. She thought about it for a minute.

“They’re still in the south of France till next week. This is their last weekend, and I said I’d join them. I’ll stay with you. Let’s go to Stinson this weekend, and I’ll leave on Monday. That gives us six days, including today. And then I have to go. I need to be in Paris the week of the wedding. I already have my outfit. I’m all set.”

“Six days,” he said sadly, and then he pulled her into his arms and held her. “I love you, Dahlia.”

“I love you too. Thank you for doing such a fantastic job. I really thought I’d go to jail at first, before the hearing.”

“I knew that wouldn’t happen, and that awful woman doesn’t deserve a penny. And Tiffany is a very lucky little girl.”

“Maybe it will make a difference for her one day.”

Mark notified Marilyn’s lawyer of Dahlia’s gift to Tiffany, and he couldn’t believe it either. “Guys like you always get the good clients,” he said in a whining tone. And guys like him didn’t deserve them.

They ended up having lunch in the suite so they could be alone, and after they ate, he went back to the office. He had a mountain of work on his desk and a rock on his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving, but he knew she had to.

She moved into his apartment that afternoon, and left all her suitcases at the hotel, most of them packed with things she didn’t need. Mark wanted her with him for every moment they could share, and he was grateful for the extra week without a trial.

“You don’t mind missing out on the south of France with your kids?” he asked her that night.

“I’d rather be with you. They’ve been doing fine without me, and I want to be with you.” And she had years to be in the south with them, and none with him.

Every day and night that they spent together was precious. They walked along the waterfront, and took long walks at night when he got home. And on Friday at noon, they left for the beach for their last weekend together. The weather was glorious and the sky was finally clear. The fires were twenty percent contained now. The air quality was green. They walked the length of the beach at Stinson. Her leg got tired, but it didn’t hurt.

Every moment with him was bittersweet, knowing what she would be missing for the rest of time. He wanted to visit her in Paris, but their deal had been that they would say goodbye after six weeks and move on with their lives where they belonged.

“We were just supposed to have a good time, and not fall in love,” he reminded her.

“We screwed it up,” she said mournfully. “Both of us.”

“We certainly did.” He was madly in love, and so was she.

“We have to live up to our deal,” she said sadly. “There’s no way to make it work at this distance. And we’re both too young to retire. You can’t give up your career, and I can’t give up mine. Maybe my kids could take over in five years, but they’re not ready now.”

“So we make a date to meet in five years?” He looked at her and she shook her head.

“No. I’ll love you forever, and be grateful that we had these six weeks. That was the deal.”

“That’s pathetic,” but he didn’t have a solution either.

There were tears in her eyes when they left the house on Sunday and drove back to the city. They spent the last night at the hotel. She had to leave at two p.m. to check in at three for a five o’clock flight. Mark drove her to the airport. They checked her luggage in at the curb, and Francisco was in his travel bag. Mark stayed with her until she had to go through security. There were no words left to say, and she couldn’t speak when she left him. He kissed her, and she wanted to die in his arms, and never live another day without him. But she had to follow her duty, and not her heart, and she loved her children too, and the business her mother had left her and her grandfather had built. And she had to take care of it for the next generation. It was a sacred obligation to her.

“I love you,” was all she could say. “Thank you. I really will love you forever.”

“Oh, Dahlia,” he said, with tears in his eyes. “This is crazy. I can’t let you go.”

“We have to,” she said, as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I know. I’ll come to Paris sometime soon,” he promised, and she clung to him, and then she stood back and looked at him with a brave smile. “I love you,” he said, and she nodded and walked away. She turned as she went into security, and he was still standing there. They were both smiling and crying, and then she walked through and disappeared.