Jennifer studied him, weighing her answer.
He saw her indecision. “Go ahead. You can tell me,” he prompted.
“I suppose I resent the amount of money you’re paid to play what is essentially a children’s game,” Jennifer said. But she knew that wasn’t the whole truth. Her calculated aloofness was a defense against the overwhelming attraction she felt for him. But it was a reasonable explanation, one he could accept.
He nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”
She gestured expansively. “After all, you weren’t raking in enough bucks playing for the Broncos, you had to dicker for top dollar to come here. It’s difficult to read in the Inquirer about the millions of children starving in Asia and Africa and then turn to the sports section and see the columnists guessing at your six-figure salary.”
He didn’t seem angry. “You’re working very hard for a fraction of what I’m making, and that bothers you. That’s natural.”
Sal brought their food. He placed in front of Jennifer the biggest salad she had ever seen.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” he asked her anxiously.
“I’m positive. This is fine.”
Sal waited until Lee had taken a bite of his veal, which was golden brown, sautéed in thin strips, delicately seasoned, as Jennifer could tell by the delicious aroma wafting across the table.
Lee made a circle of his thumb and forefinger. “It’s great, Sal.”
Sal was satisfied. He gave Jennifer one more wounded glance and disappeared.
“You’d better have some dessert, or he’ll burst into tears,” Lee warned her.
“How could I possibly eat dessert? Look at the size of this thing. It looks more like a small shrub than a salad.”
“Do the best you can. Take some of it out of the bowl and distribute it around your plate.”
Jennifer was arranging pieces of ham and cheese and lettuce decoratively on Sal’s china when Lee said, “Jennifer, I think you should understand something. I didn’t leave the Broncos for money. The team drafted a rookie end from Northwestern who was breathing down my neck, and I didn’t wait around for him to wind up standing on it The Freedom needed me for first string. The move was made for reasons of survival, not greed.”
Jennifer listened, chastened. She hadn’t known about that For the first time she realized that it must be precarious at the top—always waiting for, and fearing, the talented youngster who could come along and topple you from your perch.
“I’ve been playing ten years, Jennifer. Every season if s harder to get back into shape, the kick coming up look younger, the tackles are tougher to take. I can’t do this forever; nobody can. The money seems like a lot, I know, but I can only earn it for a short period of time.”
Jennifer had an answer for that “But during that time, you earn more than most people do in an entire career. You can save, invest, retire, and open a chain of restaurants or become a sportscaster. Those few years set you up for life. I’ll take your prospects over those of Joe Average American.”
He spread his hands. “I surrender. I can’t outtalk you, counselor.”
Her eyes flashed to his face. “How did you know I was a lawyer?”
He smiled slightly. “Those legal terms you were rattling off when you went over my contract with me had the easy ring of familiarity. Besides, some of the mail on your desk was addressed to ‘Jennifer Gardiner, J.D.’ That’s a law degree, isn’t it?”
Jennifer eyed him. “Very observant.”
He made a deprecating gesture. “I try.”
Sal arrived with a pitcher of iced tea. “Fresh made, with lemon and lime,” he announced. “How about some wine? Chianti, Valpolicella, Chablis, or Bordeaux for the lady?”
“No thanks, Sal. Jennifer can’t get blitzed at lunch, she has a busy afternoon ahead.”
Jennifer threw Lee a dirty look, to which he responded with a stare of outraged innocence.
“I bring you some garlic bread,” Sal said and trudged off.
Jennifer had to laugh. “He doesn’t give up easily, does he?”
Lee shook his head. “Sal is convinced that he could bring about world peace in one day if he could just get all the leaders of the various countries to sit down to a spaghetti dinner and share a few glasses of wine. What couldn’t be solved under those circumstances?”
“I’m not so sure he’s wrong.”
Lee poured them both a tumblerful of tea. “I’m not so sure, either, counselor.”
Jennifer sipped her drink. “You can drop the ‘counselor.’ I haven’t practiced for about three years, not since I took the first contract administrator’s position with the Freedom.”
“Why did you leave private practice?”
“Because I was offered twice what I was making as an associate at Chaus and Reynolds to come to the Freedom.”
Lee grinned. “Good reason.”
“I thought so.”
“But you’re still a lawyer.”
“I’m still a member of the bar, yes, but I don’t go into court anymore. I was hired for the contracts expertise I picked up during my tenure with the firm. They did a lot of corporate work.”
“I see. It’s like Holy Orders, once in, never out Thou art a priest forever,’ that sort of thing.”
He was needling her again. She decided not to rise to the bait. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He raised his glass of tea to her and said, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” in a very bad Bogart imitation.
Jennifer furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Jimmy Cagney?” she guessed.
Lee put the glass down, exasperated.
She snapped her fingers. “I know! Peter Lorre.”
“Very funny,” he said darkly, reaching for a breadstick. Jennifer noticed that three of the fingers on his right hand were purpled and swollen.
“Good lord,” she said. “What happened to your hand?”
He glanced down at it “Oh. I stoved my fingers in practice yesterday.”
“You ‘stoved’ your fingers. What on earth does that mean?”
He shifted his weight back in his chair, raising his hand in the air to demonstrate. “When you catch a football, you have to palm it, like this,” he said, showing her where the ball should fit into the hand of the pass receiver. “But if it’s coming in too high and you try to grab it, sometimes it clips your fingers and causes bruises. It travels with a great deal of force, and the impact creates the marks you see.”
“Is it very painful?”
“Oh, no. It looks worse than it is. I’d rather have this any time than a strawberry.”
“A strawberry?” Jennifer asked, fascinated.
“A skin burn, similar to what baseball players get from sliding. The worst ones come from Astroturf.
They can really smart. I had one once that laid my whole arm open from the wrist to the elbow.”
Jennifer listened, amazed at his tone. He spoke cheerfully, in a matter-of-fact manner that surprised her. He wasn’t complaining, merely describing an occupational hazard, like a fireman discussing smoke inhalation.
Sal arrived to check on their progress. After clucking over the amount left on Jennifer’s plate, he cleared the dishes away, promising to return shortly with “a surprise.”
Jennifer groaned. “What does that mean? An entire sheet cake?”
“Probably. But whatever it is, please eat some of it, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
Sal returned with a pot of espresso, a set of tiny cups and saucers, and something under a flowered napkin which he described as a “brown bonnet” He set it down and went back for dessert plates.
“Dare I take a look?” Lee said.
“Why not? Live dangerously.”
Inspection revealed a round cake, iced with chocolate, with a topping of cherries in a thick glaze. When Sal came back, he sliced into it to reveal a whipped cream center.
“Here you go,” he said, cutting a huge piece for Jennifer and an even huger one for Lee. “I wrap up the rest of it for you to take home.”
“Thanks, Sal,” Lee said, winking at Jennifer. “It looks fantastic.”