Tell Me No Secrets by Joy Fielding Page B

We argued about it for a long time. Quite vehemently.”
    “But you didn’t accept it,” Jess stated, surprised by how eager she was to understand how the jury had arrived at its verdict.
    The woman looked toward the sidewalk. “It wasn’t an easy decision. We did what we thought was right. We know that Mr. Phillips was wrong in what he did, but, in the end, we decided that to put the man in prison for years, to make him lose his job and his livelihood … for an error in judgment, like you said …”
    “I wasn’t talking about the defendant’s lack of judgment!” Jess heard the horror in her voice. How could they have misunderstood?
    “Yes, we knew that,” the woman quickly explained. “We just thought that it could apply to both sides.”
    Wonderful, Jess thought, catching a gulp of cold air, finding it hard to appreciate the irony of the situation, harder still to exhale.
    “We loved your little suits,” the woman continued, as if trying to cheer her up.
    “My little suits?”
    “Yes. The gray one in particular. One of the women said she was thinking of asking you where you bought it.”
    “You were looking at my suit?”
    “Appearances are very important,” the woman said. “That’s what I’m always telling my daughters. First impressions and all that.” She reached out and patted Jess’s hand. “You make a very good impression, dear.”
    Jess wasn’t sure whether to curtsy or scream. She felt her heart starting to pound against the tweed fabric of her jacket.
    “Anyway,” the woman was saying. “You did a very good job.”
    How could someone with such intelligent eyes be so stupid? Jess asked herself, finding it difficult to catch her breath.
    “I really should get going,” the woman said, obviously uncomfortable with Jess’s silence. She took a few steps, then stopped. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale.”
    Jess tried to speak, could only nod, forcing her lips into what she hoped was a reassuring smile. The woman smiled in return, then walked briskly down the street, taking several quick peeks over her shoulder to where Jess remained standing. She probably wants to make sure I’m not following her, Jess thought, wondering again what had possessed her. What had she been doing trailing after this woman, for God’s sake? What was she doing now?
    Having a goddamn panic attack, she realized. “Oh God,” she moaned, fighting off the anxiety that was making her head too light to hold down even as it made her legs too heavy to lift. “This is ridiculous. What am I going to do?”
    Jess felt her eyes fill with tears and brushed them angrily aside. “I can’t believe I’m crying in the middle of goddamn Michigan Avenue,” she berated herself. “I can’t believe I’m
talking to myself
in the middle of goddamn Michigan Avenue!” Unlike the drug pushers and crazies along California Avenue, the well-heeled shoppers along Michigan Avenue were much more likely to notice, although no more likely to do anything about it.
    She forced her feet toward a nearby bus stop, leaned against its side. Even through her jacket, it felt cold against her skin. She wouldn’t give in to this, she thought angrily. She would not let these stupid attacks get the better of her.
    Think pleasant thoughts, she told herself. Think about getting a massage; think about a holiday in Hawaii; think about your baby nieces. She imagined their soft heads nestled against her cold cheeks, realized she was supposed to be at her sister’s house for dinner at six o’clock.
    How could she go to her sister’s for dinner? What if she were still in the throes of an anxiety attack? What if she had another one in front of everybody? Did she really want to inflict her neuroses on those she loved most?
    What’s family for? Maureen would undoubtedly ask.
    Jess felt the bile rise in her throat. God, was she going to throw up? Throw up in the middle of goddamn Michigan Avenue? She counted to ten, then twenty, swallowing