Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon

 

 

It took Jennifer three months to catch up on her backlog of cases. She could have handled it more rapidly, but she insisted on leaving the office at four o’clock every day, no matter what she was involved in. Joshua was waiting.

Mornings, before Jennifer went to the office, she made Joshua’s breakfast herself and spent as much time as possible playing with him before she left.

When Jennifer came home in the afternoon, she devoted all of her time to Joshua. She forced herself to leave her business problems at the office, and turned down any cases that would take her away from her son. She stopped working weekends. She would let nothing intrude on her private world.

She loved reading aloud to Joshua.

Mrs. Mackey protested, “He’s an infant, Mrs. Parker. He doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Jennifer would reply confidently, “Joshua understands.”

And she would go on reading.

 

 

Joshua was a series of unending miracles. When he was three months old he began cooing and trying to talk to Jennifer. He amused himself in his crib with a large, tinkling ball and a toy bunny that Ken had brought him. When he was six months old, he was already trying to climb out of his crib, restless to explore the world. Jennifer held him in her arms and he grabbed her fingers with his tiny hands and they carried on long and serious conversations.

 

 

Jennifer’s days at the office were full. One morning she received a call from Philip Redding, president of a large oil corporation.

“I wonder if we could meet,” he said. “I have a problem.”

Jennifer did not have to ask him what it was. His company had been accused of paying bribes in order to do business in the Middle East. There would be a large fee for handling the case, but Jennifer simply did not have the time.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not available, but I can recommend someone who’s very good.”

“I was told not to take no for an answer,” Philip Redding replied.

“By whom?”

“A friend of mine. Judge Lawrence Waldman.”

Jennifer heard the name with disbelief. “Judge Waldman asked you to call me?”

“He said you’re the best there is, but I already knew that.”

Jennifer held the receiver in her hand, thinking of her previous experiences with Judge Waldman, how sure she had been that he hated her and was out to destroy her.

“All right. Let’s have breakfast tomorrow morning,” Jennifer said.

When she had hung up, she placed a call to Judge Waldman.

The familiar voice came on the telephone. “Well. I haven’t talked to you in some time, young lady.”

“I wanted to thank you for having Philip Redding call me.”

“I wanted to make certain he was in good hands.”

“I appreciate that, Your Honor.”

“How would you like to have dinner with an old man one evening?”

Jennifer was taken by surprise. “I’d love having dinner with you.”

“Fine. I’ll take you to my club. They’re a bunch of old fogies and they’re not used to beautiful young women. It’ll shake them up a bit.”

 

 

Judge Lawrence Waldman belonged to the Century Association on West 43rd Street, and when he and Jennifer met there for dinner she saw that he had been teasing about old fogies. The dining room was filled with authors, artists, lawyers and actors.

“It is the custom not to make introductions here,” Judge Waldman explained to Jennifer. “It’s assumed that every person is immediately recognizable.”

Seated at various tables, Jennifer recognized Louis Auchincloss, George Plimpton and John Lindsay, among others.

Socially, Lawrence Waldman was totally different from what Jennifer had expected. Over cocktails he said to Jennifer, “I once wanted to see you disbarred because I thought you had disgraced our profession. I’m convinced that I was wrong. I’ve been watching you closely. I think you’re a credit to the profession.”

Jennifer was pleased. She had encountered judges who were venal, stupid or incompetent. She respected Lawrence Waldman. He was both a brilliant jurist and a man of integrity.

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Off the bench, why don’t we make it Lawrence and Jennie?”