sea, tongue working his cheek. Tom had a round of meetings scheduled before the flight even landed.
Now, in the conference room in the offices of Mangum & Morris, Bingham studied the faces around the table. This transaction would close in six weeks, and he knew it would happen because every person here was determined to collect their fees in time to be included in year-end hero-sheet calculations and the bonuses that went with them.
They wanted to be on the inside.
Hours passed. Bingham glanced at his watch. One o'clock and he was hungry, and when he was hungry he grew irritable. In fact, he'd felt claustrophobic for hours. Stiff-arming the growing stack of papers in front of him, he pushed them out toward the center of the table. After all, he was the client.
"It's time for lunch," he announced. He softened the interruption with a smile. His smile was contagious, he knew. He'd been aware all his life that this smile of his was a valuable tool, and he used it as such. So he looked around the room, caught each eye and twinkled, catching them off guard, breaking the connections. Otherwise they'd sit here all day, billing him.
"Let's go eat," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get out of here and find some good Creole food. What do you suggest? Galatoire's? I've heard a lot about that place."
Doug glanced at Preston. "We've ordered lunch in," Preston said, scooting back his chair. "I'll go check on that."
"Nope." Bingham's voice was firm. He leaned forward, forearms on the table. "No catered food. I want to try out all your great restaurants. Let's start with Galatoire's. We'll come back here and work after."
Preston looked at Doug.
"There'll be a long line," Robert murmured to Bingham.
"So what?" He looked at Doug. "Can't we do something about the line?"
Doug nodded. "Sure."
"Get someone to stand in for us. Have them call us when they've got a table."
"No problem," Doug said again. Preston rose. Left the room and nodded when he returned. "All set."
"Good," Bingham said.
Amalise stopped at Ashley Elizabeth's desk. "I'm going to lunch," she said.
Ashley Elizabeth looked up from her typewriter though her fingers continued to fly across the keys. She worked for Amalise and two other associates, so she was always busy. "All right." Ashley Elizabeth smiled. "I'm going too. Soon."
When the elevator doors opened, Doug Bastion stood there with several others. He surprised her by swinging an arm around her shoulders. "Amalise, there's someone I want you to meet." He turned to a tall, lean man with a craggy face. The man wore a gray suit that, from the fit, appeared custom made, as well as a crisp white shirt with French cuffs, a burgundy tie, and wingtip shoes. He looked about fifty-five, perhaps sixty years old.
"Bingham," Doug said, "this is one of our finest young lawyers. She'll be working with us on your transaction. Amalise, this is Bingham Murdoch."
"Well, look at this," Bingham exclaimed, opening his arms and smiling. "From the tenth circle of hell an angel has appeared." He turned to two men standing behind him and introduced them as Adam and Robert. "One's a banker," he said, "and the other's a Wall Street lawyer, angel. Don't you singe those wings."
She said hello as Doug released her from his grip.
"Amalise." Bingham glittered for her. "That's a nice name. We're all off to Galatoire's for lunch, and you're coming with us." He chuckled and shuffled beside her, slipping his arm through hers as the elevator continued the descent. "I must say, Doug, your firm has good taste. What a relief." Everyone laughed.
Preston wore a wry smile. "Amalise is a rose among the thorns."
Before she could say a word, the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened. Bingham steered her along, leaving Doug, Preston, Raymond, Frank Earl, Adam, and Robert trailing behind.
"Call me Bingham." His eyes shone as he led her through the lunchtime crowds. Walking along, he compared in a favorable light the sidewalk crush
Now, in the conference room in the offices of Mangum & Morris, Bingham studied the faces around the table. This transaction would close in six weeks, and he knew it would happen because every person here was determined to collect their fees in time to be included in year-end hero-sheet calculations and the bonuses that went with them.
They wanted to be on the inside.
Hours passed. Bingham glanced at his watch. One o'clock and he was hungry, and when he was hungry he grew irritable. In fact, he'd felt claustrophobic for hours. Stiff-arming the growing stack of papers in front of him, he pushed them out toward the center of the table. After all, he was the client.
"It's time for lunch," he announced. He softened the interruption with a smile. His smile was contagious, he knew. He'd been aware all his life that this smile of his was a valuable tool, and he used it as such. So he looked around the room, caught each eye and twinkled, catching them off guard, breaking the connections. Otherwise they'd sit here all day, billing him.
"Let's go eat," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get out of here and find some good Creole food. What do you suggest? Galatoire's? I've heard a lot about that place."
Doug glanced at Preston. "We've ordered lunch in," Preston said, scooting back his chair. "I'll go check on that."
"Nope." Bingham's voice was firm. He leaned forward, forearms on the table. "No catered food. I want to try out all your great restaurants. Let's start with Galatoire's. We'll come back here and work after."
Preston looked at Doug.
"There'll be a long line," Robert murmured to Bingham.
"So what?" He looked at Doug. "Can't we do something about the line?"
Doug nodded. "Sure."
"Get someone to stand in for us. Have them call us when they've got a table."
"No problem," Doug said again. Preston rose. Left the room and nodded when he returned. "All set."
"Good," Bingham said.
Amalise stopped at Ashley Elizabeth's desk. "I'm going to lunch," she said.
Ashley Elizabeth looked up from her typewriter though her fingers continued to fly across the keys. She worked for Amalise and two other associates, so she was always busy. "All right." Ashley Elizabeth smiled. "I'm going too. Soon."
When the elevator doors opened, Doug Bastion stood there with several others. He surprised her by swinging an arm around her shoulders. "Amalise, there's someone I want you to meet." He turned to a tall, lean man with a craggy face. The man wore a gray suit that, from the fit, appeared custom made, as well as a crisp white shirt with French cuffs, a burgundy tie, and wingtip shoes. He looked about fifty-five, perhaps sixty years old.
"Bingham," Doug said, "this is one of our finest young lawyers. She'll be working with us on your transaction. Amalise, this is Bingham Murdoch."
"Well, look at this," Bingham exclaimed, opening his arms and smiling. "From the tenth circle of hell an angel has appeared." He turned to two men standing behind him and introduced them as Adam and Robert. "One's a banker," he said, "and the other's a Wall Street lawyer, angel. Don't you singe those wings."
She said hello as Doug released her from his grip.
"Amalise." Bingham glittered for her. "That's a nice name. We're all off to Galatoire's for lunch, and you're coming with us." He chuckled and shuffled beside her, slipping his arm through hers as the elevator continued the descent. "I must say, Doug, your firm has good taste. What a relief." Everyone laughed.
Preston wore a wry smile. "Amalise is a rose among the thorns."
Before she could say a word, the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened. Bingham steered her along, leaving Doug, Preston, Raymond, Frank Earl, Adam, and Robert trailing behind.
"Call me Bingham." His eyes shone as he led her through the lunchtime crowds. Walking along, he compared in a favorable light the sidewalk crush
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