Deck the Halls Read online

  Adam released a lungful of air and closed his eyes. “I resigned my partnership today.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated. “They’re about to take a high-profile case that has no business in court. I’m trying to prevent it. They wanted me to handle it.”

  “Couldn’t you win it?” Holly asked, trying to understand.

  “Yes.” He opened his eyes, but didn’t look at her. “I could win it.”

  “Then why not accept it? Adam, you’ve spent hours negotiating behind the scenes. This would put you in the spotlight.” Holly unconsciously began a pep talk like the ones she’d given her sisters hundreds of times.

  “I’m not a trial lawyer.” A touch of irritation entered his voice.

  “But you said you could win it.”

  Adam turned toward her. “Winning isn’t everything, trite as that sounds. People would get hurt. It might destroy a family business.”

  “So? Someone has to lose. Is this another bankruptcy case?”

  “It’s headed that way.”

  Holly didn’t like feeling disloyal to Adam, but she owed him her opinion. “People and businesses go bankrupt all the time. It happens. It happened to us and nobody was worried about where we’d get our next meal.”

  Adam opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly, obviously changing his mind. “There’s a little more to it than I’ve told you,” he commented at last.

  “I still think you should take it. If you don’t, another lawyer will and get all the publicity.”

  “Holly—I resigned,” Adam said, biting off each word.

  Holly was trying so hard to encourage Adam to grab the opportunity, she missed the warning tone in his voice.

  “Don’t you have any ambition?” Holly asked, filling her voice with amazement. Maybe he’d try to prove her wrong.

  Adam got to his feet. “I have principles and I refuse to sacrifice them on the altar of money.”

  “Glad you can afford them,” Holly said dryly. “Not everyone can.”

  Adam stared at her, his face drained of color. “It was a mistake to come here.” He started for the door.

  “I don’t believe this!” Holly shouted, running after him. “You’re leaving just because I disagreed with your decision?”

  Adam paused at the door. “I . . . wanted your support.”

  Holly gripped his arms. “I’m not ever going to agree with you when I think you’re wrong.”

  “I thought you’d understand. You’ve made decisions everybody thought were wrong, but you believed in yourself. This time, I expected you to trust my judgment,” Adam said quietly.

  “Even when it’s wrong?”

  The bleakness returned to Adam’s eyes. His gaze roamed over her features, as if committing them to memory. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Good-bye.”

  His good-bye made her very nervous, even though Holly told herself she was right to give Adam her honest opinion. He was just stewing over it for a while, but she was confident he’d come around. He ought to know she wasn’t some fluff-brained creature who would agree with anything he said or did.

  Guilt, her favorite emotion, settled in the next day. Mrs. Fitzhugh refused to take her calls, but the hotel and caterers agreed to bill the committee directly. Mrs. Bloom howled about losses and damages. Holly wearily promised to pay for the bears, but not for normal wear and tear on the white trees.

  “Holly? Lunch.” Laurel popped into and out of Holly’s office.

  At least there were no surprises there—party leftovers.

  “How’s the money situation?” Laurel asked.

  “I can’t get through to Mrs. Fitzhugh, so I don’t know if our suppliers are getting paid or not. We have one month’s expenses in the freezer, but we’ve got credit-card balances.” Holly smiled with false brightness. “Fortunately, I already paid our taxes on the house, or we’d be out that, too. Thank heaven Ivy went back to Exemp Temps. I’m still working on Bloomie.”

  “And the silk?”

  Holly shook her head. “One mill offered about ten cents on the dollar to take it back—”

  Ivy burst into the kitchen, clutching papers. “Holly, we’re being sued!” She thrust the papers at Holly and sat at the kitchen table trying to catch her breath.

  “What is this?” Holly tried to make sense of the papers.

  “Exemplary Temporaries sent me to a law firm and I’ve been typing. This was in the stack.”

  “Are you at Swinehart, Cathardy and Steele?” Holly began to feel sick.

  Ivy nodded.

  “That’s Adam’s firm,” Laurel whispered.

  “Was,” Holly corrected.

  “No one told me anything. I didn’t even see him there!” Ivy turned bewildered eyes on Holly. “What happened? Why didn’t Adam tell us about this?”

  With hideous clarity, Holly remembered every word of her discussion with Adam. “I think he tried to.” She quickly scanned the papers. “It’s Mrs. Fitzhugh and the Winter Ball committee. They’re suing us over the bills.”

  Holly wanted to throw herself on her bed and bawl as she remembered the look on Adam’s face. He’d quit his partnership for her and she’d criticized him for having principles. “Does anyone know you have these?” she asked Ivy as tears blurred the words on the documents.

  Ivy shook her head. “I waited until lunch and took them. There’s a whole stack of court papers and I put ours on the bottom. I can pretend I never saw them. Maybe by the time they remember, you can talk to Adam. He wouldn’t let them sue us.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Holly stared at the papers and her hands began to shake. “Fraudulent business dealings? That’s absurd.” She threw the papers on the table.

  Laurel picked them up. “We could destroy these.”

  Holly got wearily to her feet. “I’ll take them back. Don’t worry, Ivy.”

  Ivy looked ready to cry. “You’d better let me. I can sneak the papers back and no one will know they’ve been gone.”

  “No.” Holly smiled sadly. “I’ve got some groveling to do.”

  Adam’s office was cluttered with signs of packing. Holly tapped on the open door before walking the miles to his desk.

  His face was expressionless as he watched her approach.

  It seemed best to dispense with the social amenities. Holly carefully unfolded the slightly rumpled papers and smoothed them on his desk, brushing aside a take-out food container. The crackling was the only sound in the room.

  “Where did you get these?”

  Holly stood, like an errant schoolgirl in front of the principal’s desk. “It’s quite a coincidence, actually. Ivy’s working here as a temp. She was given the papers to type, panicked and brought them to me.”

  Adam flicked a glance at her before picking up the documents Holly would have given anything to burn. He put them in his out basket, then returned to his writing.

  Holly wasn’t about to let him ignore her. “This is the case you were talking about yesterday, isn’t it?”

  Adam dropped his pen and steepled his hands. “Yes.”

  He obviously wasn’t in a charitable mood. “Did you unresign?”

  “No.”

  Holly made a vague gesture that silently asked what he was still doing there. “Just tying up loose ends,” he answered.

  “I knew Laurel’s chummy poses wouldn’t sit well with those women, but fraudulent business dealings?”

  “Going to play it that way, are you?” Adam leaned back in his chair and reached behind him. He tossed the calendar at her. “Seen that before?”

  Bianca, the penthouse, Darlene and . . . the fireplace tools, logo clearly visible. Holly closed her eyes and exhaled shakily.

  “Did you know about that?” Adam asked, his voice ri
sing.

  “No!” Holly protested. “Well, afterward,” she amended.

  “Check February.”

  Holly saw the notorious red scrap of lingerie and dropped the calendar as if she’d been scalded. Her face flamed. “I didn’t know what Gus had planned. You told him he could use the penthouse that day,” Holly reminded Adam.

  “Good point.”

  “I didn’t tell you about it before because I was ashamed at the way Gus set us up. I walked in on the photo session and threw them out.”

  “During what month?”

  Maybe he didn’t hate her completely. “November. Gus must have done December first.”

  Adam didn’t smile, but his face seemed softer. “The calendar gave Mrs. Fitzhugh ammunition to convince her brother to take the committee’s case.”

  Holly bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” Adam studied her. “Steele thinks you planned this whole thing as revenge.”

  Holly shook her head. “Please get them to drop the suit and . . . and . . . talk or compromise or whatever you do.” Adam raised one black brow.

  “It’ll ruin us,” Holly pleaded.

  “Probably.”

  Holly waited for a hint of compassion. If she had ever meant anything to him . . . “Help me.”

  The bland mask cracked just a little. “I did when I resigned, because I’m very good and I would win.”

  Holly gasped slightly. “And now?”

  “You need a good trial lawyer.” Adam cleared his throat. “I’m available, as it happens.” His lips curved slightly.

  Holly stood a little straighter. Now she understood. It was his career or hers. And Adam didn’t hesitate to sacrifice his.

  But Holly did. Hours of mind-numbing work, petty humiliations, nagging, cajoling and pushing couldn’t be dismissed in an instant. It took two. “Hiring a lawyer would be a pointless waste of money I don’t have,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding his offer. “I’ll just make a simple statement to the judge. That should clear everything up.”

  “You’ll be committing financial suicide.” The coolness in Adam’s voice was replaced by concern.

  “No.” Holly gave him a bitter smile as she turned to leave. “I did that last week.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THEY WERE DESTROYING the woman he loved.

  Adam sat toward the back of the courtroom, directly behind Holly, so she’d be unable to see him out of the corner of her eye. He stared at the solitary figure in the conservative navy suit and the unrestrained brown curls. Too stubborn and too proud to accept his offer of help. And he loved her, anyway.

  The trial had been scheduled quickly, with Mr. Steele calling in his markers. Adam thought disgustedly of the hundreds of plaintiffs who waited years for their cases to come to trial. Mr. Steele’s justification was that the ballet couldn’t function without their money from the ball.

  He knew that Holly hoped a quick resolution would allow the publicity to die down so she could start over.

  Adam shifted on the hard wooden bench as he examined the battery of lawyers clustered around Mr. Steele. So, who was the crown prince chosen to lead the attack against Holly and her small-time business? Joe Longoria.

  Adam brightened. Joe was thorough and methodical, but too slow to recognize when a particular strategy wasn’t working.

  However, this time, his strategy appeared to be working.

  Adam mentally winced each time a witness appeared. With no defense lawyer to object, Joe gained confidence as he flirted with the gray areas of courtroom procedure. Adam gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. Anyone who had ever watched television trials would have been tempted to scream. “Objection—leading the witness,” or, “Objection—irrelevant.”

  Right now, Mrs. Herman Bloom was testifying.

  Joe was posturing. “Describe your dealings with the Hall sisters.”

  Mrs. Bloom, an ample woman with small eyes, preened self-importantly. “Those girls were always looking down their noses at people.”

  Objection, sighed Adam mentally.

  Joe, in one of his ponderously choreographed moves, looked to where the jury would be—if there had been a jury. “You had a business relationship?” he prompted.

  Mrs. Bloom sniffed. “Those girls were just playing at business, you know?”

  Objection.

  Joe leaned against the witness stand. “No, you tell us.”

  “They bounced checks all over town. It didn’t matter to them that I had to eat and they had their trust funds. They figured I could wait for my money.” Mrs. Bloom looked righteously indignant.

  Joe strolled over to the exhibit table. “Bank records.” Those were duly entered as Adam got out a small notebook.

  “They offered to let me wear their mother’s vulgar diamond necklace, like I was a peasant or something.”

  Adam’s heart twisted for Holly. The necklace, even in its present almost valueless state, was more than a piece of jewelry to her.

  Witness after witness, some who’d had dealings with Holly and some who hadn’t, was called. It seemed at times that not only Holly, but her family and entire way of life was on trial. Surely she could see that she was wrong not to have a lawyer?

  After lunch, the courtroom was packed with reporters. News of the juicy trial had leaked out. Holly appeared calm, but Adam noticed her back wasn’t quite as straight and her head drooped until she remembered to jerk it upright. Only her hair remained a defiant curly halo around her head.

  At least Laurel had taken Adam’s advice and stayed home. It would be bad when Joe got around to her sleigh poses, and judging by the expression on Claudia Fitzhugh’s face, he was just about to.

  “And so out of the generosity of your heart, you gave Holly Hall her big break.”

  Mrs. Fitzhugh bowed her head modestly. “Her mother was very dear to me.” She directed a look of eloquent disapproval at Holly.

  “Was Ms. Hall grateful?” Joe assumed his deferential demeanor.

  “Apparently not.”

  “Could you be more specific?”

  “She spent thousands of dollars on decorations for the Winter Ball. I’ll remind everyone that the primary purpose of the ball is to raise money.” Mrs. Fitzhugh addressed the room at large, effectively donning her Old Guard Society Matron guise.

  Adam glared at Mrs. Fitzhugh as if he could mentally remind her how Holly had come to her rescue twice.

  Mrs. Fitzhugh was speaking. “It became like a . . . like a commercial for her sister. And then—” Mrs. Fitzhugh shot a withering look at Holly—“she had the effrontery to bill us for her expenses in promoting her sister’s sleazy career.”

  “Objection!” Adam breathed a sigh of relief at the release he felt. He refused to allow this character assassination to continue.

  The crowd of reporters murmured and the judge banged his gavel in the tradition of television dramas.

  Adam missed all the looks directed at him, except one. After Holly’s head swiveled in his direction in stunned surprise, a huge smile lit her face. Adam’s eyes locked with hers as he made his way to the front of the courtroom, oblivious to the judge’s beckoning.

  Adam wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, but contented himself with grasping both her hands in his. They were cold.

  “What are you doing?” The words formed a question, but Holly’s voice was a caress.

  Adam’s eyes searched her face, his lips tilted in a half smile. “I’m your knight in shining armor.”

  Holly shook her head. “Don’t. Mr. Steele will never take you back.”

  Adam’s lips parted with dawning comprehension. “That’s why you wouldn’t let me represent you?”

  Holly dipped her head for a moment, then shrugged light
ly. “I couldn’t ruin your career,” she whispered. “I’m in love with you.”

  Adam’s smile was blinding. “So you were going to sacrifice Deck the Halls.” The blood pounded through his veins. “Holly.” His voice was husky and his arms ached to hold her, but conscious of their surroundings, he only squeezed her hands.

  Adam felt a touch at his elbow. “Hey, man.” Joe Longoria tugged Adam away to confront the stern-faced judge.

  “Permission to approach the bench,” Adam asked belatedly. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew a card and his credentials and presented them. “Adam Markland, with Markland Associates.”

  The judge peered at the card. “Boston.” He looked at Adam over the top of his glasses. “I don’t need to tell you that I won’t tolerate these shenanigans in my courtroom.”

  “No, sir.” Adam turned icy blue eyes toward Joe Longoria.

  “And your client chose not to be represented by counsel.”

  “My client came here to explain a misunderstanding, not to commit social and financial suicide. She expected matters to be resolved within a few minutes. This lengthy excuse for publicly humiliating her family has changed her mind.”

  “I’ll bet it has,” the judge muttered. He banged his gavel and called for a ten-minute recess.

  “Adam,” Holly began, a few minutes before the recess was over. “I know how you feel about being in the courtroom. It makes you . . . uncomfortable.” She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. I wouldn’t love you any less.”

  Adam was surprised into a laugh. “Good!”

  “Maybe we could—”

  Adam laid a hand over both of hers. “Holly, dear heart, I choose not to be a trial attorney. I think there are better ways. But I’ve been one. Yes,” he affirmed as her face registered amazement. “In fact,” he continued in a light conversational voice, obviously enjoying himself, “I’m really quite good. No, I’m the best.”

  He looked at her with such blazing intensity, in spite of his teasing tone, that Holly believed him instantly.

  “It got so other attorneys didn’t want to appear against me. They’d knew they’d lose and wanted to settle out of court. I began to prefer that, which irritated my family. They tried to pressure me, so I left. Steele offered me a partnership and I accepted, even though I knew he thought he could talk me back into the courtroom. Look.” Adam pointed, his grin almost menacing. “You can see Joe Longoria sweating from here.”