She turned around and opened the file drawer, which was jammed with red accordion files, just like they used at PLG. She checked the first few labels, Alpha Electronics v. Bersne, Amaryllis Computer v. Ward, Inc., and Babson Metrics v. Teelerson et al., then skimmed the case names until she got to Rexco v. Pattison Dalheimer, Inc.

She pulled the file, took a slug of warm soda, and got to work.

Mary was on the phone, telling Anthony about her conversation with Bennie, but he was sounding less than enthusiastic.

“Honey,” he said, “let me get this straight. Bennie turned you down for a partnership, and you feel more like her partner?”

“She didn’t turn me down.”

“She did, for now.”

“Only for a week or so.”

“Okay, so why do you feel more like her partner? Isn’t that ironic?”

“Not really.” Mary sipped her coffee, but it was cold.

“Why can’t she decide now?”

“Because we said September.”

“She’s stalling you.”

“No, she’s not.” Mary’s good mood wilted. The sun was defeating the air-conditioning in her office, and her gaze flitted over her desk cluttered with Xeroxed cases, empty coffee cups, and the elbow end of a cheese hoagie. “She said she appreciated me.”

“But what did she say about partnership?”

Mary wanted to hang up. She’d called him for a break, but she should have called Judy. Sometimes it was hard to choose between best friend and boyfriend, and she should have gone with the ovaries. “Don’t be so hard on her.”

“I’m not being hard on her.”

“Yes, you are. She has things on her mind, problems like everybody else, she just doesn’t let it show. She takes care of everybody else instead of taking care of herself.” Mary wasn’t sure if she was talking about Bennie, herself, her mother, Judy, or all four. Maybe she was talking about every woman she had ever known, or maybe every woman ever born. In the world. And galaxy.

“I don’t like her putting you off.”

Mary realized she hadn’t mentioned her father’s breakfast with Fiorella, so she told Anthony that story, too, but he just laughed.

“You’re so fired up today, babe. Is this what happens when we don’t have sex?”

Mary cringed. “What do you think? Weird or not, that he ate out with Fiorella?”

“Not. They ate after they went to the hospital. What’s wrong with that?”

“Why didn’t they eat in the hospital cafeteria?”

“Did you ever eat in a hospital cafeteria? Don’t think anything of it. Tell me you love me, I have to go to the library.”

“I love you, I have to go to the library.”

“That’s original.”

“But it’s still funny.”

“Whatever you say.”

Mary felt stung. “You’re being mean.”

“No, you are, but I love you anyway.”

“Love you, too.” Mary pressed END, grateful that he hadn’t mentioned house-hunting. She speed-dialed Judy, who picked up right away, sounding weak. “Jude, what’s the matter?”

“Somebody’s giving me the evil eye and the evil head and the evil stomach. Can we call Fiorella? I need a booster spell.”

“She’s not home.” Mary shook her head. “This is what comes of bringing gringos into an Italian household. You just have the flu.”

“In August?”

“It happens.”

“It’s not that. It’s evil, pure evil. What should I do? Should we call Williams-Sonoma?”

“Why them?”

“For olive oil. Fiorella said we needed the best. If we’d had the best last night, I’d be fine today.”

Mary let it go. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I’m just going back to sleep.”

“You sure you’re okay alone?”

“Yes.”

Mary couldn’t hang up just yet. “Jude, you wanna hear a story, or are you too sick?”

“Gimme the headline.”

“Alice quit PLG, I might make partner in September, and my father had breakfast with Fiorella at a restaurant.”

“That’s incredible!” Judy’s tone improved, which Mary attributed to the curative powers of gossip.

“Which one’s incredible?”

“The restaurant.”

“I know, right?”

“And you, a partner! Time for the big-girl panties!”

Mary smiled. “Not yet. Maybe.”

“Sure you will! And Alice? The bitch is back?”

“Get this. She took money from PLG. She stole from the poor.”

“Whoa. She got her Robin Hood mixed up. She’s Hood Robin.”

“She’ll burn in hell.”

“Poor Bennie,” Judy said, which was exactly the reaction Mary expected, so she told Judy the rest of the story, and they both agreed on the need for a back-up restraining order.

Mary said, “Bennie’s not so bad, you know. We judge her too harshly.”

“That’s so like us.”

“She opened up to me, today. She actually said, ‘I appreciate you.’ ”

Judy gasped. “You misheard.”

“No. We confided.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Tell me what she said.”

Mary smiled. “Then it wouldn’t be confidential, but we talked about being twins.”

“Well, I’m happy about your partnership. Just remember I knew you when.”

Mary felt a twinge. She couldn’t believe that she might make partner before Judy, who was so much smarter. “I owe it to you, Jude. You’re the one who put me up to it. I never would’ve asked if you hadn’t made me.”

“I only encouraged you.”

“No, you shamed me into it.”

“Whatever. I’m just glad. You deserve it.”

Mary felt so lucky, in having Judy as a friend and Bennie as a boss. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Don’t get all melty. I’m going back to bed. Watch out for Fiorella, Mare. She could bewitch your dad. See you later.”

“Don’t be silly, and feel better.” Mary hung up, but held the warm BlackBerry in her palm for a minute.

She was wondering how Judy always knew what she was thinking, even when she didn’t know herself.

Bennie screamed and pounded on the new crack, hoping it would weaken, ignoring the animal scratching and growling on the other side of the lid, trying to get inside. She flashed on a terrifying image of its teeth sinking into her neck, then realized something. If the animal dug through the lid, he could help her break the crack.

She flipped her thinking. The animal wasn’t her enemy, he was her friend. He was on her side. She needed it to keep scratching and digging. She started pounding again, this time to taunt him, then began scratching on the wood, digging toward the animal as he dug toward her. Each of them scratched his side of the lid, the animal on the top and her on the bottom, mirror images of each other.

She grunted with effort, reduced to some primal state, merging into her animal self, clawing frantically at the wood, raking her nails along its surface. Something in her snapped when she realized that this was her last chance. She was running out of air.

She clawed and dug and tore, then started pounding, not feeling the pain, not smelling the stink, devolved and focused only on her scratching, fueled by the scratching on the other side.

She wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

Or devoured.