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but aren't you a class act, Kathleen Cotter. You'll be the darlin' of the press. The judges won't be able to resist you.'' He raised his glass again and drank to the glory that was her.
    '' Uncle Gerry, please -''
    Kathleen twisted her shoulders. Big. That's how her mother described her. Her father never managed more than a glance after puberty and hardly more than that before. She put herself together well but Kathleen had to wonder if Gerry's sight was all it should be.
    '' Now, now,'' Gerry laughed, ''we can't have any of that, now can we? No uncle in here. These are the offices of Gerry O'Doul & Associates, and I am here toasting the best associate a man could have. I'm so proud of you, Kathleen. Passing the bar and all. I wish I had known sooner. I wish . . .''
    The light in his eyes dimmed a bit. Kathleen turned away, embarrassingly aware of the years of silence between them. Gerry moved past her, full of vim and vigor. He'd had enough of the moment.
    '' So, you like my pictures?''
    '' I always loved your pictures. Mom used to show me every one.'' She reached out and touched one she remembered best. When she first saw it her hands had been dirty from playing her child games, now her nails were filed oval and painted to match her lips. She had changed. ''You're the reason I became a lawyer. I wanted to be just like you.''
    '' And so you are like me. You inherited my genes. Style and brains,'' he gave her a little wink and chuckled. His collar bobbed about his neck like a starched life preserver. He grinned. Could it be that he really didn't sense her despair, her absolute shock to find him in such a state?
    '' I can't exactly say I followed in your footsteps.'' She moved away, suddenly tired and needing to rest. No, not rest. She needed distance. She needed to try this all over again with a completely different result. ''You know, I haven't really been doing the kind of work I'm sure you need help with. Dorty & Breyer is just a small office in a strip mall, Uncle Gerry. . .''
    He held up a long, bony finger and waggled it at her. Kathleen smiled weakly.
    '' Gerry, I mean -'' she tried again. ''What I'm trying to say is I don't really think I have the skills you need in an associate. It was wrong of me to lead you on. I should have sent a resume after you asked me to come here. This is Beverly Hills, after all.'' She looked around the office and out the window as if trying to find some truth in that statement. ''I don't think I'm cut out for this.''
    '' Now don't you sell yourself short, Kathleen.'' Gerry O'Doul clucked. ''I wouldn't have asked you here if I thought you couldn't do the job. I know in my bones you're a fine lawyer. It's not all knowing the law. It's the image that counts. Image is half of everything, don't I know. Just look at you. Dressed so smartly. A knockout. A voice that will sing like the angels to a jury as soon as we get something to take to court. That's important, Kathleen, the voice I mean.'' Kathleen opened her mouth to use the voice he so admired but he was like a verbal dervish. ''And smart, Kathleen. I can see you're smart. It's behind your eyes. But more than that, you're a woman of substance.''
    '' Uncle Gerry, please.'' Her hands were clammy. Someone had turned up the heat.
    '' Don't deny it. Most young lawyers aren't like you.'' Gerry set aside his champagne flute and sat back in his high back chair. It almost engulfed him. He looked right at her and, for a brief and unnerving instant, she saw the man who had so courageously wielded his persuasive powers in court for decades. His gaze was steadfast, his eyes deep with thought, his decision making powers sure in a world that often waffled. ''You are a decent person, Kathleen and that's why the law needs you. That's why I need you. I believe you're letter was a sign. I was almost ready to quit.''
    Kathleen was stunned for a moment then she grabbed the straw.
    '' You're at an age when you should retire, Gerry,'' she insisted, slipping onto a