“Should I signal the waiter? Do you want something to eat or drink?” Crawford asked.
“I do not, old chap. I am too upset to eat or drink.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Samuel Moser. The little cretin just accused me of engaging in disreputable conduct and threatened to toss me out of the club.”
“Sam can’t toss you out of the club. He’s an employee.”
“Exactly, and I will not tolerate an employee speaking to me the way he did.”
“It would take a recommendation of the membership committee and the vote of the board to discontinue your membership.”
“Right.”
“What is it you want me to do, Robert?”
“I want you to fire that impudent little toad.”
Crawford frowned. “Because he brought complaints by club members and employees to your attention?”
“The accusations are completely unfounded.”
“Robert, I have to tell you that you have been the subject of much discussion since Lily asked us to grant you a club membership. Maybe you’ve noticed that several members have excluded you from their bridge and poker games. That’s because they suspect you cheat.”
“Who says I’m cheating? Tell me who said that.”
“I’m afraid that the complaints were told to me in confidence, but there have been several, and the people making them have sterling reputations.”
“And I don’t.”
“Look, Robert, I’m going to be frank. There were a number of board members who were not pleased to have you join our club, but Lily is a dear woman and everyone was deeply saddened when Frank passed away. So we let you in because it made Lily happy. Your conduct has made many people regret their decision.
“You are Lily’s husband and your behavior is not the sort of behavior in which a married man should be engaged. The Westmont Club is not a pickup bar in a seedy section of Portland. Our members are the cream of Portland society and we value our employees. I’ve had several members of the female staff complain that you’ve made lewd suggestions and groped them. I’ve had similar complaints from some of the wives. And this was before Sam came to me with Sophie Randall’s complaint.”
“So you’re siding with that obese bookkeeper?”
“I’m not taking sides, Robert. I am telling you that several members of the club and staff are not enamored of your conduct. I am also telling you that steps will be taken if this conduct does not cease immediately.”
“Then let me tell you that I’m going to resign my membership unless Moser is fired. Think of what that will do to Lily. She’ll be disgraced. Think of how much you’ll be hurting her if she has to leave the Westmont, because that’s what she’ll do if I tell her how I’m being treated.”
“Listen to me, Robert. You’re going about this the wrong way. There’s no need for confrontation. Change your behavior and this will all be forgotten.”
“By you maybe, but not by me.”
Chesterfield stood up.
“You people think you’re so high-and-mighty. Well, we’ll see who comes out on top,” Chesterfield said before he made a military about-face and left the terrace.
The judge sighed. Everyone knew that Lily’s marriage to Robert Chesterfield had been a terrible mistake. Lily’s children, Crawford’s wife, and several other women in the club had tried to make her see how big a mistake it would be, but Lily was not that bright and she could be incredibly stubborn. The word was that Lily had been drinking and taking antidepressants since her husband’s heart gave out unexpectedly. Crawford believed that Lily had fallen for the debonair and exciting Robert Chesterfield to escape the extreme depression that was crushing her. The judge didn’t want to hurt Lily, but Chesterfield was an intolerable blot on the club’s reputation. Everyone wanted him gone and he hoped that goal could be accomplished without subjecting Lily Dowd to more grief.
* * *
In addition to her mansion on the coast and homes in Aspen, London, and the Caribbean, Lily Dowd owned a five-thousand-square-foot penthouse in Portland. Chesterfield drove to the condo in a rage, barely avoiding two accidents. All his life, people like Crawford and Moser had treated him like something you find on the bottom of your shoe. He had not put up with it before and he didn’t intend to start now.
“What’s wrong?” Lily asked when her husband stormed in.
“We’re resigning from the Westmont,” Chesterfield said, his face flushed with anger.
“I … I can’t leave the Westmont. All my friends are there.”
“It’s those prissy bastards who pretend to be your friends who’ve defamed me.” Chesterfield gripped Lily’s shoulders. “They don’t care for you, Lily. They only care about the prestige you bring to the club, and your fortune.”
“What happened, Bobby?”
“I’ve been accused of cheating at cards, of making sexual advances to secretaries. It’s disgusting and it’s a lie, and I won’t stand for it.”
“They said you made sexual advances?”
Chesterfield looked into Lily’s eyes for a moment, then pulled her into his embrace. “There’s only one woman in my life and that woman is you.”
“But the Westmont … I can’t, Bobby. Please don’t ask me.”
Chesterfield pushed Lily to arm’s length. “I will never ask you to do something that you do not want to do. But I will not set foot in that den of liars again.”
“Oh no. Please don’t resign.”
“They’ve made it impossible for me to stay. How can I show my face at the club, knowing that everyone will be whispering falsehoods behind my back?”
“But, Bobby, it has to be a mistake. I’m sure if we talk to Landon—”
“I talked to him after Samuel Moser insulted me. He backed that offensive toad.”
Lily looked lost. “The Westmont. Frank and I were married there. I just can’t quit.”
“You must do what you think is best, Lily. I would never force you to leave a place that means so much to you. But I can’t stay a member and maintain my dignity.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Beauty can be a curse. When Regina Barrister was in her twenties, she was tall and slim with ivory skin, sparkling blue eyes, golden hair, and a dazzling smile. She also had an IQ that put her in the top one percent of the top one percent, but men could not see an IQ. Even though she had finished first in her high school and college classes, her nickname had been “The Cheerleader” when she arrived at Harvard Law in the mid-eighties. She hadn’t been taken seriously until she finished—once again—at the top of her class at the end of her first year.
Regina had encountered some of the same problems when she returned to Oregon to practice law. Male judges and attorneys made passes and treated her with disdain until she started winning case after case. Within a few years of opening her practice she had a new nickname, “The Sorceress,” because of her uncanny ability to win unwinnable cases. At thirty-seven, Regina’s looks still made men pause in midsentence and women commit the sin of envy, but now that Regina was one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the state the sexist attitudes that had dogged her early years were a thing of the past, unless she was trying a case against an insecure, narcistic chauvinist like Peter Ragland.