“Understood, Your Honor,” Linette said, his expression stoic and his stance stiff as a toy soldier’s. “Your Honor, I apologize for my client, but Mr. Mayer is simply reacting to Ms. Rosato’s misstatements of fact regarding her client’s damages. Mr. Mayer knows his were far greater.” He spat out the words, each one precise as a stiletto. If he couldn’t take the lectern, he’d turn counsel table into one. “And I strongly object to Ms. Rosato’s having filed this motion without consultation with me, running off to tell the teacher-”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Bennie said, because she couldn’t resist. She didn’t know if you could object to a statement by co-counsel, but she was loving being unorthodox. And unorthodox was a better adjective than mavericky. “And I resent my motion being trivialized as running to the teacher. Every plaintiff is a tattletale. Justice is obtained only by running to the teacher. That’s why they call it court.”

Linette ignored her. “Your Honor, I would seek the opportunity to brief the method by which the court appoints class counsel. The process of auction bidding has been disapproved by this circuit in the Cedent case, and Your Honor is well aware of the task force-”

“Enough, Mr. Linette,” Judge Sherman said, waving dismissively. “You needn’t argue the point now, and I know all about the task force. You and all parties of record will have the opportunity to respond to Ms. Rosato’s brief, with all briefs to be filed within twenty days.” Judge Sherman glanced over at defense table to the lawyer sitting alone, like a blind date stood up. “And you, too, Counsel. We haven’t forgotten about the defendant trade association, and I couldn’t deny defendant the opportunity to be heard, even though it is not necessarily a matter of your direct concern.”

The defense lawyer nodded his balding head. “Thank you, Your Honor. We will brief the issue. If the issue concerns this lawsuit, it concerns my client,” he said with dignity, and Bennie knew that he was milking the melee in the plaintiff’s ranks for all it was worth.

Judge Sherman looked sternly at Bennie and Linette. “Now, obviously there has been infighting-even fisticuffs-between you lawyers, and you clients, and you clients and lawyers. And even you clients and clients.” He rolled his eyes. “This is absurd, unprofessional, and not in anyone’s interests. So I have some free legal advice for all of you, and it didn’t originate with me. A lawyer who was smarter than all of us once said, ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand.’ Mr. Linette, Ms. Rosato-and Mr. Mayer and Mr. St. Amien-you all would do well to heed those words.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Bennie answered, again at the same time that Linette did, only he said it louder. Anything you can do I can do better. She was hardly optimistic that Linette would be taking any advice from Judge Sherman, much less Abraham Lincoln.

“Good.” Judge Sherman banged the gavel, then set it down and rose, arranging his robes around his tall frame. “I’ll take the motion under advisement and await briefing by all the parties, to be filed within twenty days. Adjourned, people. Go home and play nice,” he ordered, with a grim set to his mouth, then he left the dais.

Bennie couldn’t help but smile, and when she turned back to St. Amien, he was grinning from ear to Gallic ear. But next to him, Mayer didn’t look so happy. And neither did Linette, who swooped to the front row of the gallery, grabbed his client by the arm, and stalked off without another word. Quinones, Kerpov, and Brenstein departed in a small horde of lawyers, collectively shunning Bennie, but she had expected as much. In fact, she didn’t even blame them. She took her time packing her briefcase to let them all go ahead, to avoid them avoiding her in the elevators. Today she’d made herself a player, leveled the playing field, and gotten the ball.

St. Amien caught up with her at counsel table and slipped a congratulatory arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Fantastique, Bennie! We won, did we not?”

Bennie clicked her briefcase shut with a grin. “They want to kill us, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then we won,” Bennie said, and hardly minded at all when she was rewarded with another peck on the cheek.

Bennie left her very satisfied client at the courthouse, grabbed a cab back to the office, and came off the elevator feeling good for the first time in days. She realized when she saw a leftover L.L. Bean box that she hadn’t thought about Alice the whole time she was in court, and she resolved not to let that unresolved situation get her down. She had won, or at least she had struck a blow, and she had to celebrate. She threaded her way through the boxes and found Marshall at the reception desk, hanging up the phone.

“Hey, lady!” Bennie called out. She dropped her briefcase at her feet. “The good guys are making a comeback!”

“I’ll say!” Marshall looked up from the reception desk with an expectant smile. Though on Marshall, every smile was expectant. “I have good news too.”

“What? Tell me.”

“You go first,” she said, so Bennie told her what had happened in court. Marshall responded with a whoop that sent the associates hurrying from their offices to the reception desk. Mary DiNunzio came running with a legal pad, Judy Carrier bore her afternoon Frappuccino in a transparent plastic cup, and Anne Murphy had wrapped her long red hair into a topknot with a pencil. They asked in happy unison what was going on and made girl noises while Bennie told the whole story for a second time. Not that she minded.

“Unreal, huh?” Bennie said, finishing. “I thought Mayer was going to fire Linette right there! He still may.”

“Fire Bull Linette?” DiNunzio’s rich brown eyes went wide. “That’s like firing God!”

Carrier looked over. “God doesn’t work for thirty percent.”

“Neither does Linette,” Murphy cracked, and they all laughed. “And Bennie, did you hear? We’re rich!”

“What?” Bennie looked puzzledly at Marshall. “What happened? Is that your news?”

“We got a check!” The receptionist bent her sleek head over her neat desk, set some correspondence aside, and found an envelope, which she handed to Bennie with a huge grin. “This just came in from PennsyBank. We’re in the money!”

“Really? So soon?” Bennie opened the envelope and pulled out a check payable to her for fifty thousand dollars. But the check wasn’t from her mortgage bank; it was from Sam, with a Post-it attached. She unstuck it and read the note: Bennie, it turns out there is no gay Mafia. Take my check and reimburse me when yours comes in next month. Love, Wascally Wabbit. Bennie felt a rush of gratitude.

“Who sent the money?” Carrier asked as the associates grouped around. “Fifty grand! Where’d that come from?”

“I borrowed it,” Bennie answered, avoiding anyone’s eye. She wasn’t about to tell them she was hocking her house and borrowing from her friend in the meantime. Marshall had probably figured it out, but the associates would have a lifetime to learn reality. And Bennie felt too good to focus on the negative. “It’ll keep us afloat until St. Amien settles. We can pay the rent and the long-distance bill, and buy a Frappuccino or two!” She looked around at their faces, alive with hope. “Ladies, we’re back in business! Carrier, I owe you for my get-out-of-jail card. DiNunzio, I’m paying for your field trip, not you. And Murphy, about your seventeen dollars-”

“Woohoo!” DiNunzio said, clapping, and Murphy brightened.

“We’re okay, and I have more good news, Bennie. You know how you asked me to see about your license, with the felony charges against you? I called the disciplinary board, and if you get the charges dropped, there are no repercussions at all. Your license is fine.”