74

GEORGE RYDER HAD LANDED on his feet. Walters, Cassidy & Breen agreed to pay him his regular salary through the first week of November regardless of whether he put in any billable hours for them. It was to his advantage to find employment elsewhere as quickly as he could, bring his remaining clients to the new firm, and augment his income.

Barrows and LeBlanc offered him a good opportunity. They were a fifteen lawyer firm that was started by the two name partners eight years earlier, specializing in corporate and environmental law. Their first office was in a faux brick building on Westminster Street, next to a parking garage. But as they added lawyers and ran out of space, they moved to a renovated building on South Main Street. Their third floor suite overlooked the Providence River. Up until now, the firm had farmed out the various discrimination matters involving its clients, but several well-publicized decisions made the partners more aware of the heavy trial work and billing those kinds of cases could produce.

“I haven’t done a lot of trial work in the past,” Ryder told Ted Barrows as he sat in the latter’s office. “But I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with a little help at the outset. I’m right up to last week on the law itself and the cases,” he assured him.

Ted Barrows, more than twenty years younger than Ryder, was a little embarrassed about interviewing him. But he was impressed with his background at WC&B and with the clients Ryder would bring to their growing practice. Both Barrows and LeBlanc liked the idea of having an experienced senior person around the office whose brain they could pick with questions about client relations, ethical problems and practical solutions for difficult cases. A financial arrangement was worked out that was beneficial to both parties. Ryder reported to his new office on the third Monday in September, the week following the Rhode Island primary.

By and large, the departure from Walters, Cassidy & Breen went smoothly. He gave Ed Jackson a list of the clients he expected to take with him, and was somewhat surprised that no questions were raised about any of them. By agreement, Ryder let Jackson have a copy of the letter he was mailing to his clients. It informed them of his move to Barrows and LeBlanc and his hope of being able to service them from there. In return, he received a copy of the notification WC&B intended to send to those same companies and individuals. It acknowledged Ryder’s departure and advised them, without actually soliciting their business, that they were welcome to have any future labor or discrimination-related problems handled by other competent attorneys in the firm.

On his last afternoon, there was a “Good Luck George” cake for him in the main lounge. He stood behind a table, cutting pieces of it for those who came in to say good-bye in the hour he was there.

Ryder couldn’t help notice that Frankie Scardino remained in the lounge the entire time. He suspected that Scardino’s presence was meant to discourage anyone from pressing him to give a farewell speech. He put something together a week earlier in the event that happened, but then decided to leave without making any formal remarks. It disappointed him to see that a number of the lawyers, partners especially, were no-shows at the reception. But he accepted the fact that those who wouldn’t have supported him had he fought his termination were too embarrassed to attend, and he guessed that it probably wasn’t a good idea for some to be seen shaking his hand or paying him even minimal public tribute.

The only glitch came on that last Friday morning. Ryder met with Scardino to review what he would be receiving from the firm in paychecks after he left. One item confused him. “What’s this entry on the list that says, ‘Contribution-$100.’” he asked.

“That’s what all the partners are being assessed for a firm contribution to Doug Fiore’s election campaign,” Scardino answered.

Ryder responded with a mild explosion. “Well, goddammit I’m not!” he said. “Don’t ask me to shell out a hundred bucks for the guy who pushed me out of here. I’m not a masochist.”

Scardino acted as if he couldn’t understand where Ryder was coming from. “It applies to all the partners, George, and the firm’s paying you for the next seven weeks. I don’t see why you should be an exception.”

He felt his blood starting to boil. “I’m not sure I expect you to see why, Frankie, or that you’d even have the guts to admit this shouldn’t apply to me. I’m not going to give the managing partner one goddamn nickel without a fight. And let me remind you that I’m going to have the chance to make a speech this afternoon if I want.”

Scardino was obviously flustered. He hesitated and then sat back in his chair, away from the table. “Ed Jackson is the managing partner,” he said, “not Doug Fiore.”

“If you and Ed want to believe that, good luck to both of you. Just tell me that I’m not making a contribution and let’s sign off on the rest of this.”

“I’ll have to speak to Ed about it.”

“I know better, Frankie. I’ve been around here over thirty-two years. But if you want to go through that charade, be my guest. Just have an answer for me before I walk into the lounge this afternoon.”

Scardino moved forward and reached for the paper. “Let’s do it this way. I’ll cross it out for now. We can initial the other items, and I’ll recommend to Ed that the contribution gets dropped. If he won’t go along with it, you’ll find out by two o’clock.”

And, as Ryder knew at that moment, that was the end of it.