Legally Tender

“María,” Christina began, “tiene que ir al trabajo.” She saw the woman’s brown eyes widen with fear at being told she had to go to work. Christina shoved her foot into the opening, wincing as her toes became pinched between the door and the wooden frame.

“No. You will not shut me out.” Christina pushed her hand against the door to allow her foot some breathing room. The peeling paint stuck to her palm like children’s stickers. Using rapid Spanish, Christina launched into an explanation about why María needed to go to work.

It took her five minutes of intense arguing, but finally Christina removed her foot and María Gonzales fully opened the door. Bruce was still on the phone and had moved a distance away.

María stepped out of the motel room, and Christina thought that maybe all the arguing with her mother had paid off. She’d used one of her mother’s many emotional arguments almost verbatim on María. Before María closed the door, Christina could see an elderly lady and a small child inside. María’s family. The reason she went to work, and the people Christina had convinced María that she couldn’t let down.

“We’ll drive you to the factory, and then I’m going to meet your boss,” Christina said in Spanish. “Did you eat lunch?” Christina grimaced, knowing the answer the moment she asked the question. “We’ll stop and get you something,” she said.

Bruce flipped his phone closed and approached. María instantly lowered her head to her chest and gazed at her feet.

“Do not do that,” Christina snapped at her in Spanish. María peered up in surprise. “Do not cower with him. You have heritage. You have pride.” Christina nodded at Bruce. “We’re ready to go. I told her we would take her to work, since everyone else on her shift has already left and they took one car. I also said we would get her some food for her break. I want to meet the company president.”

“Donald Gray doesn’t see people.” Bruce said. “I’ve tried multiple times.”

“Yes, but I haven’t,” Christina pointed out as they reached Bruce’s truck.

Bruce considered for a moment. “Why not? It can’t hurt.”

Christina drew her suit jacket closer once they were under way. She’d opted for a silk shirt, and suddenly she felt exposed in her high-class wardrobe. No wonder María wore an Indianapolis Colts sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. The woman was working in a modern-day sweatshop.

After getting María some lunch, they drove to the factory in mere minutes, and Christina guessed that in the warmer months, many workers walked the distance.

How strange, Christina mused. She herself had gone to the finest schools in the United States and had never felt discrimination, but people like María Gonzales experienced it daily. People like María kept their deep-seated distrust of the government and struggled for the American dream, all the while attempting to assimilate into a culture they did not yet belong to or whose language they didn’t even speak. And they had no idea that the law was on their side, providing them safe working conditions and the right to be treated fairly.

Christina had pointed out to María that the American government had issued her a green card when so many illegal immigrants went without. María had to go to work; it was up to her to create a better future for her family. The law would help. Christina had promised it would. And she was determined to keep the promise.

Bruce drove onto the grounds of the Morrisville Garment Company, giving Christina her first look at the buildings that were the scene of such injustices. They were nondescript structures, like so many other manufacturing facilities. Bruce stopped at a guard shack, signed in, and within moments, María had been seen safely to her employee entry door and had clocked in. María’s immediate supervisor had been nowhere in sight, and Bruce parked the truck by the main entrance.

“May I help you?” An extremely bored receptionist turned her attention away from her fashion magazine. She was about eighteen, probably fresh out of high school last spring. She brightened when she saw Bruce’s dazzling smile.

“I’d like to see Donald Gray.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl asked, her expression hopeful.

Bruce shook his head and lifted the name plate. Julie, it read. “Not for today. Could you call him and tell him Bruce Lancaster’s here?”

The girl shook her head and bit her lower lip. “I can’t. He only sees people by appointment. I can take a message, though. You could leave a business card.”

Christina watched as Bruce gave what had to be his signature smile. The man could outsmile Dennis Quaid. If Christina didn’t know him so well, she’d be swayed, too. He had charm that could simply pull one into unprofessional thoughts.

Bruce pulled a card out of his pants pocket and toyed with it as if it were a poker chip. “Come on, Julie,” he cajoled. “Call him for me.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, wavering a little under the deliberate high wattage.

“He’ll be glad you did. Trust me.” Those blue eyes twinkled, and Christina shifted her weight to the opposite leg, again acknowledging that Bruce Lancaster’s charm affected her, as well.

As for Julie, she picked up the phone and dialed. “Yes, this is Julie in reception. Mr. Bruce Lancaster of Lancaster and Morris is here in the lobby and wishes to speak with Mr. Gray.”

Her gaze darted back from Bruce to Christina. “There’s some female with him.” Julie lowered her voice. “She’s wearing Prada. I recognize it from last month’s Cosmo.” She waited a moment. “I’ll tell them.” Julie replaced the receiver. “Mr. Gray is unfortunately indisposed, but his legal counsel, Elaine Gray, is on her way down.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said. He cupped Christina’s elbow and moved her away from the reception desk. “It had to be your Prada. Elaine Gray never comes down, either.”

“What—your charm can’t sway her?”

Bruce grinned again. “Not since I went to prom with Marilee Becker, instead, no. She’s thirty-two, went to Washington University, worked for a St. Louis firm and then returned home two years ago after a failed relationship.”

“Out of curiosity, where did you go?”

Bruce turned slightly. “To Morrisville High School, like everyone else around here.”

“No. I mean to law school. I just realized that not only do I not have any business cards yet, but I also have no idea about your background.”

He leaned closer, and she stopped herself from stepping back. “I went to undergrad at Purdue and then Indiana University in Bloomington for my J.D. Yes, IU’s public, but going there’s a family tradition and it’s one of the best law schools in the country. Ah, here she is. Smile, Christina. You’re our ace. Make her worry.”

Bruce extended his hand. “Elaine, how are you? You’re looking exceedingly well. I’m sorry we just dropped in and I’m so glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to see us. Let me introduce you to Christina Jones, Lancaster and Morris’s newest partner.”

“Nice to meet you,” Elaine Gray said politely as she and Christina sized each other up. Christina was five-nine, and Elaine probably five-ten. Bruce was taller than them both, but not by much.

Elaine’s hair was platinum blond, almost white when compared with Christina’s natural honey-wheat color. Up on the latest fashions from when she’d been Kyle’s wife, Christina recognized a Dolce & Gabbana suit when she saw one, and that Elaine sported the latest haircut. Elaine extended her hand and gripped Christina’s. When she let go, Christina resisted the urge to flex her fingers to revive them. “I take it you’re new in town,” Elaine said.

“Relocated from Cincinnati,” Christina confirmed.

“Well, I hope you like it here. The shopping’s terrible. I have to make quarterly trips to New York to find anything decent to wear. So tell me, what brings you both by? Our meeting regarding your little matter isn’t until next week.”

Christina kept her instinctive bristle hidden. Title VII sexual harassment and ethnic discrimination were not “little matters.”

Bruce, however, remained calm, as if he’d known exactly how Elaine would react and exactly how to play her. “One of our clients, María Gonzales, returned to work today. Her supervisor has been threatening to dock her pay if she leaves her work area. Unfortunately, because the women’s facilities are inoperable, María must leave the area in order to carry out basic bodily functions. Elaine, my client should not have to fear going to work. Her supervisor cannot harass her for legitimate health and safety issues. On her behalf, I have contacted OSHA, and my paralegal will also keep our EEOC mediator abreast of this development.”

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