When the furor subsided, the lawyer for Mrs. Whitney Vandermark-Warren-Sands renewed his motion for the court to consolidate the claim of his client, on the theory that the will was valid, and Whitney was unquestionably Heyworth’s most beautiful wife.
Without the least inclination to evaluate the cosmetic merits of five Mrs. Vandermarks preening excitedly in their seats, Judge Morgan ruled swiftly.
“Motion granted. There being no competent evidence that Brooke feloniously and intentionally killed Heyworth Vandermark, the will is admitted to probate. As a matter of law, the phrase ‘most beautiful wife’ employed by Heyworth Vandermark refers to his wife at the time of his death. Matters of taste aside.” She directed the comment to Whitney in particular, who had stood up furiously.
“The parties have stipulated that Brooke was married to Heyworth at the time of his death,” Judge Morgan continued, “and there is no further ambiguity. Pending appointment of a personal administrator to distribute assets”—she pounded her gavel several times to be heard over Whitney’s sobs—“the matter of the Estate of Heyworth Vandermark is hereby dismissed.”
Henry Kohn hung his head.
Eugenia practically scaled the railing that separated the lawyers’ seats from the gallery, rushing to embrace Elle amid the pandemonium of wailing wives and cheering students that erupted. Brooke, free and happy, grabbed and swung Elle’s hand like a child.
“Oh, today I’m free to be me, free to be me, there goes Chutney, said it was me,” Brooke sang, bouncing along with her flowery little cheer. Elle burst out laughing.
“God, Brooke, it’s a miracle you weren’t so goofy on the stand.” Elle poked Eugenia, grinning with wide-eyed relief. “Meet Eugenius,” she announced to Brooke, “the smartest girl in Stanford Law School. I wouldn’t have made it here without her.”
“Group hug!” announced Brooke, hauling Eugenia into a merry circle.
“You’re the smartest girl in law school!” Eugenia declared, freeing her hand to rustle Elle’s hair into a white moppy mess.
Elle shook a lock from her eyes with a grin. Sarah was involved in a heated conversation with Warner at the far end of the lawyers’ table. “Not bad for a Barbie doll,” she said.
“Ken should be proud,” Eugenia replied, pointing at Warner’s blonde head.
Elle pinched Eugenia’s arm and lowered her tone. “Ken’s on the shelf now, Genie. With the rest of the dolls.”
Eugenia wrinkled her nose, confused.
“I’ll tell you later,” Elle promised.
Brooke was pulling on Elle’s arm with another jingle. “Free, free, always me, always gonna be me!”
Eugenia laughed and applied her tousling hand to Brooke’s hair. “You oughtta take that show on the road!”
“Hey, I can do anything now,” Brooke declared happily.
Elle packed up her legal pad. Brooke turned to thank her “other lawyer Christopher,” hopping away with another chorus of “free to be me.”
“I’ll go get the car, Elle-o-rama,” said Eugenia. “Time to party!”
Elle glanced around the clearing room and agreed. “I’ll meet you out front.”
She turned to look for Christopher, who was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s out in the hall, Elle decided, picking up the closest two witness books to carry back with her. Acknowledging Dan’s congratulations with a smile, she glided into the hallway, where Christopher stood surrounded by reporters. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Elle, and pulled her to his side. “Here”—he beamed at Elle—“is the real star!” Cameras were flashing, placing Elle securely in her element. The reporters had a lot of questions, many of them for Elle, which she answered beautifully. The last question, however, was directed at Christopher.
“Mr. Miles, how do you feel about being upstaged by your intern?” one of the reporters asked.
“Proud! Thanks, Elle.”
At the door of the courthouse she saw Warner standing alone. “I guess this is my exit cue,” Christopher said, and gave Elle a wink before heading out the door.
“Elle!” Warner reached to hug her. His open arms caught air as Elle saluted him sarcastically, ducking through the door.
She couldn’t resist peeking back when she heard Warner rush out behind her. Over his shoulder, she noticed Sarah standing at the doorway with her arms folded indignantly.
“Elle, stop, please,” he said as she turned to face him. “God, let a man admit his mistake. That joke was all wrong. I underestimated you, Elle.”
Elle thought she noticed Sarah look away, pretending she didn’t hear her fiancé’s confession. Making an effort not to catch Sarah’s eye, Elle drew closer to Warner.
“How’s that, Warner?”
“Elle, come on, you know. I thought I’d have to marry Sarah, because she…oh God, Elle, she had the brains and everything. You know my family. I mean, I wanted to be with you, really, but everyone…everyone thought you were so flaky.” Warner laughed heartily with Elle, who encouraged him with a warm grasp to continue.
“A frosted flake? Me?” Elle giggled in faux humility, glancing to assure herself that Sarah heard. “Little ol’ Barbie doll me?”
“Oh, Elle, come on, you act like the biggest bimbo around.” Warner chuckled, positive that Elle shared his humor. “I mean, you should just hear what people say about you at law school!”
Confident that he had won her back, he put his arm around her shoulder and jostled her like a friend. “I’m so glad they’re wrong! You showed everybody! I’m so glad I can be with you again now.” Warner pulled Elle close to him.
“You want me back, Warner?” Elle peered up from her old love’s embrace with sweet doe eyes, trying not to laugh.
“Elle, I’ll leave Sarah,” he gushed. “I don’t need her anymore. You are smart! Christopher and my father go all the way back to prep school, and with the glowing description he’ll give of you, my family will have to love you! You’ve got the brains and the body. Thank God! Why did it take me so long?” He smacked his head jokingly. “Right here all the time. The one woman who really knows me.”
Elle saw Sarah glaring furiously at Warner, and for the first time thought she and Sarah might have something in common.
“Warner, I do know you now. I didn’t know you at all before,” she pronounced in a cool, even tone, lifting his hand and dropping it from her shoulder.
His smile dropped into a confused stare.
“No, Warner. I didn’t know you,” Elle repeated. “I loved some image that you never really were. It’s not your fault. ‘That had to do with me, not you,’” she hissed, imitating his words from their fight in the witness room.
“But, Elle, we spent so many years together,” he protested. “You’ll never find anyone like me again, Elle.”
“I certainly hope not!” Elle answered genuinely. “By the way, your brainy fiancée looks lonely.” She pointed behind him at Sarah, who was tapping her foot in a brisk allegro.
Warner wheeled around to face Sarah, his mind racing to explain what he had just declared with such indiscretion.
“Good-bye, Warner,” Elle said as she started down the steps. She paused, turning back with a smile.
“I’ll see you around.”