What's a Girl to Do? (Season 4)

Chapter Nine: The Sands of Time

I was having a meeting with Gwen one day—a solo meeting, as Nicholas was taking the day off—in the first handful of days of February. The weather had remained cold, and there was a bit within it that hadn't been there before, but I found myself hoping that spring weather would start soon. Spring weather meant picnics and trips to the park, and now that Iana was getting older, I knew I would have to come up with some pretty decent tricks to amuse her during the spring and upcoming summer.

This meeting was quieter than a lot of the meetings, because Nicholas had, of late, been asking her questions rapid-fire that the opposing side could ask. I would mainly sit on the sidelines, playing the role of the opposing side, firing out objections or sustaining's whenever it was deemed necessary to do so in the line of questioning. That day, it was just me calmly asking her them, and her polite reply.

"The opposing side won't be nearly that polite, will they?"

I smirked. "No," I replied, shaking my head, "most likely not. Parts of courtroom scenes in Hollywood films are realistic—the opposing side is not obligated to be nice to you. They have to keep it PG, unless the judge has a vendetta against your side. Then you're up shit creek, which is when your case goes the unfortunate route..."

Gwen nodded. "What do you think of Judge Newton?" she asked, and I raised my eyes to hers for a moment. "Not that I would know—the law has never been my thing, just morals. My wife is a surgeon and I'm just a computer programmer—which is only my day job until we get this nonsense out of the way..."

I set my questions down, taking a handful of dried cranberries from my bag. I'd offered Gwen some when she'd come in, but she didn't like eating between meals, and had politely declined the offer. "He seems like he's on the straight and narrow," I replied. "He'd more middle of the road politically, but hates it whenever it's evident that one side is lying. Given the information that you've provided for us, I really think we've got a good shot at this, Gwen."

Gwen nodded. "Could we not talk about the case?" she asked. "I understand that that's what I pay you for, but..."

I smiled at her. "Hey, Gwen, I may be your lawyer, but as long as you pay me, we can talk about whatever you want," I joked with her, setting aside the questions. "Besides, we've been drilling for over two hours now. I think it can be enough for the day. I think we'll be prepared for court on Monday, don't you worry."

Gwen smiled. "Thank you, Murphy. Grace and I almost discuss nothing but the trial these days, and it's beginning to ware on me..."

"You must talk about other things..."

"Well, we talk about Drew, of course... The donor we used for him just got a new shipment in at the sperm bank, and Grace and I have been talking seriously about having another baby..." She regards me then with a smile. "You want to know which one of us carried him, don't you?" she asked, not accusing.

Immediately, I shuffled my papers in front of me. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I've got to work on the openness of my expressions..."

Gwen held up her hand as I slipped some of my papers into my bag. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Murphy—curiosity is quite all right. After all, you work for me, and it's bound to come out sooner or later."

I blinked. "What is?"

"Grace is about fifteen years older than I am," Gwen replied. "Grace is forty, and I'm only twenty-five."

"Oh," I said, feeling relieved that it wasn't something sinister. "Age gaps shouldn't matter. Well, they should," I went on, amending my statement, "but I guess one as small as that shouldn't matter very much. As long as you're happy..."