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told Sean in answer to his question, “but Tally Rand has been your basic brick wall—at least up until this morning.”
    â€œFirst things first. Does Abbey have grounds for annulment?”
    â€œFor sure. She told me she was sky-high on primo grass when she and Tally exchanged vows. Ergo lack of capacity for informed consent, ergo invalid marriage in the eyes of the Church.”
    I gave this answer pretty confidently for an attorney who knows literally nothing about canon law. Trust me, you won’t find a class on that at Harvard Law School. Fortunately, one of my brothers is a priest, and he knew at least one thing about canon law: the telephone number for the archdiocesan chancery. The helpful young woman I tracked down there was happy to share.
    â€œTally denies that Abbey was baked at the wedding?” Sean asked.
    â€œTally is keeping his cards close to his vest. His official position is that the marriage was a genuine union of committed love et cetera , and as a proud non-believer he doesn’t intend to play along with what he calls ‘the hypocritical charade of Catholic divorce.’”
    â€œA ‘union of love’ that didn’t last much longer than a politician’s campaign promise and ended in a quickie divorce?” Sean seemed genuinely indignant as he put his gesticulating right hand gently on my elbow. “That’s unmitigated…nonsense.”
    â€œI agree.” I smiled at Sean’s hasty substitution of “nonsense” for the more colorful term we’d both had in mind. Old-school gentlemen don’t use words like “bullshit” in front of ladies.
    â€œSo whoever makes the decision will believe Abbey instead of him, right?”
    â€œI expect so. Not really the point, though.”
    â€œWhat is the point, then?”
    â€œWith Tally’s cooperation, the annulment process will take six months, maybe eight. If he chooses to contest it, the annulment could take six years to get through, complete with appeals to Rome, whether his position has merit or not.”
    â€œOuch,” Sean said. “Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.”
    â€œYeah.” I finished the veggie-wrap and slowed my pace long enough to stow deli paper in a proper receptacle.
    â€œAny chance of a making a crack in that brick wall?”
    â€œUntil this morning I would have said no.” I stopped, which made Sean stop, and I caught both of his eyes in my gaze so that he’d know my next words were important. “But at nine sharp Tally called me and said he wanted to talk to you personally about an unrelated matter.”
    â€œNamely?”
    â€œHe didn’t say.”
    Sean looked to his right and his left, which is one of his ways of thinking, then started walking again. I fell into pace beside him.
    â€œHow do you feel about the direct contact idea?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t have any problem with it. You eat guys like him for breakfast. You don’t need a lawyer running interference for you. Besides, I’m dealing with Tally on an unrelated case. If I demand that he go through me on anything relating to you, he might think he could get me to take my eye off the ball by playing one case off against the other ”
    â€œProbably right about both of those.”
    â€œNine to one, though, this is a shakedown.”
    â€œIt won’t be the first one I’ve ever dealt with if it is.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “But if he does put extortion on the table, we might be able to turn it around and use it against him.”
    â€œBite him in the fanny with his own blessed teeth!” Sean flashed me a mega-watt beam. “I love that idea! I’ll call you as soon as I’ve talked to him.”
    We both stopped now, because we were about to head in opposite directions. The twenty-thousand-a-year retainer that Sean pays me helps cover my rent, but in Pittsburgh solo start-up law practices