He was riding high; he was also a little drunk. “Hey, Ms. Shreve, I just got offered a job – house counsel for Peyben – salary in the high six figures, bonuses, stock options, use of the company jet. You can quit working and become the lovely piece of fluff on my arm.”“Gee, that just sounds like so much fun,” I said. “I take it you settled Peyben’s case out of court.”“I did. Evangeline and I went to Peyben’s private dining room. I ordered a bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé and asked her to tell me her great dream of life. She revealed that her dream was to spend a summer on the beach, watching boats bob on the Adriatic, drinking fine wine, and perfecting her tan. We had another glass of wine, and I confided that, although I wasn’t a clairvoyant, I could foresee two distinct futures for her. In one, she accepted Peyben’s generous offer and was in Belgrade soaking up the rays before Canada Day; in the other she grew old, hanging around gloomy courtrooms watching the kind of lawyers she could afford being eviscerated by lawyers like me.
