When Mairin got home from tax class she collapsed into her big chair. She was hungry, but she didn’t have the energy to eat. That often happened. She had to recharge a bit before she could rustle up some food.

She told Bea and Harry about her afternoon with Jeffries. She hadn’t told them ahead of time that she was going. "Did you put him up to this, Harry?"

"Not at all," said Harry. "I had no idea that he was going to call you. I’m pleased though. A law job would be good for you, and you’d get a chance at a little perspective.

"I wonder if I’d be on exhibit there."

"What do you mean?"

‘Well, I’d be the only law student-- and going to night school on top of that. Sure, they take law students as clerks during the summer, when they’re on vacation. But they never take anybody from night school. I don’t want to have to be on the defensive, to have to prove myself time after time. Oh well, I’m hungry, we can talk about this later." And Mairin got up to prepare her supper.

The following Thursday, Mairin told Bea and Harry that she’d decided to take the job she was sure she’d be offered with Hadleigh. "I’ve had a tough week," she said. "I’ll really miss some of my clients, like Mr. Brush. I don’t know what will happen to him. But I think that changing jobs will force the Issue of law. If I really hate it, then I can put it away for good." She hesitated a moment. "You know, though, sometimes I have an awful feeling that I'm doing the wrong thing. It was so strong last night that I couldn’t sleep."

"I know," said Harry dryly. "I heard the refrigerator door open and close."

"It wasn’t really funny," Mairin reflected. "I was too nervous to eat. I just went back to bed and tried to talk myself to sleep."
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday she met with Bob Jeffries at Hadleigh. "Well," he said, "what’s your decision?"

"I’ll switch," she said.

He leaned back and threw her a victory signal. "I’m very glad. I don’t think you’ll be sorry."

"I hope not. It’s really a wrench in lots of ways. I’ve been working with several clients that I’m going to miss."

"That’s a positive aspect of your personality," Bob said, "and we’re going to use it here. There are two areas that I want you to work in. One will be research, and the other will be family law. I’m handling a couple of divorce cases that are getting ready to go to trial. I want to have you look over the files. I’ll ask you some questions. But we’ll start you in research. Mr. Clarkson is head of that division, and I want you to meet him today. When can you start?"

"In three weeks," she said. That would let her give two weeks’ notice to the agency, and it would give her an extra week for vacation. She felt that she needed that desperately.

"Fine," he said.
 
 
 
 
 
 

The last two weeks at the agency were hard for Mairin. There were at least three tearful good-byes with clients. "Great social work skills," she said to Carol. "I became a friend instead of a professional social worker."

"Bullshit," said Carol. "A little more direct caring can’t hurt social work practice."

Mr. Brush was now a regular at the sheltered shop. On that note, Mairin left, feeling good that something had been established for him.

Mairin slept her vacation week away. She made all sorts of plans for her days and then slept through most of them.

"You clearly need the sleep," Bea told her. But they did have lunch out one day, then went shopping. Then the week was gone, and it was time to work at Hadleigh.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Mr. Clarkson in research had two large projects he wanted her to work on right away. He was an interesting fellow--large, with somewhat bushy hair--and a scholarly manner. He assigned her to a tiny office off the law library. There were four or five of those, and they always were assigned to law clerks. Mairin’s actually had a window, which looked into the airshaft of the building. She planned to bring in a few little items to brighten up the place. She had a Ben Shahn poster that she wanted to put on the wall, although it would without doubt cover the entire wail.

She did bring in a few plants right away; however, she was so busy that she hardly got time to sit in her office. The firm’s library was huge, but when it wouldn’t suffice, she went to the university library or the county law library in the courthouse. Occasionally she went to the public library. Mr. Clarkson was delighted to find out that Mairin had worked in her college library as a reference assistant. "Yes,’ she told him, "I did think about library work. I really like it but somehow I headed for social work."

She really could research on her own, and she had always been good at writing. The two projects were hard, but she felt good about them. Perhaps the third day at work, Bob Jeffries paged her to come to his office. "Mairin, he said, "we’ve got a little project going with Juvenile Court that I’d like you to do some work on. They have what is called a Guardian Ad Litem project. When a child’s rights and a parent’s rights may conflict, and in some other situations, the court appoints a GAL--often for more than one party. They’ve asked all the firms in town to cooperate by taking a few of these cases.

"They have almost one thousand appointments a year. Needless to say, each case can pay only a token amount of money; I think it’s $30 per hearing. But it’s a pro bono thing, and we want to do our part. Jeff Beyer is a young associate who’ll actually go into court on them, but I want you to work them up for him. These are people cases, and you’re good at those."

Mairin went to Jeff Beyer's office to pick up the first case. "It looks jolly," he said. He explained that the firm was being appointed counsel in this case, not as GAL, to represent a mother of four children. The Welfare department had temporary custody of four children and was moving for permanent custody of the oldest three. Those three had been out of the home and in foster care for two years.

"Well," said Mairin, "I suppose that I ought to make an appointment to go to see her."

"Forget it," said Jeff. "Do you see where she lives?"

"Yes. The Adams Project. Not a good neighborhood."

"Just talk to the welfare worker. Her name is on the papers. She’ll give you the story."

"But we represent the woman. The welfare department wants to take her kids away!"

"Sure. They’ll try to find a good home for them. Hey, look, the department doesn’t move for permanent custody unless they have a good case. Every one of these that I’ve worked on has been a mess."

"You may be right, but I’m going to see the mother."

"You can’t go there alone. Have her come down here."

"No. I want to see her in the home with the two-year old.’

Jeff sighed. "Okay. I’ll go with you."

"That ‘s okay," she said. Do you think anybody went with me on my last job?"

"Oh yeah, you’re the social worker. You’re probably used to this. But come on, aren’t you scared?"

"Sometimes yes. But there’s a way you do it. You go in the morning before the street people are out. The junkies and the winos are still sleeping it off, and the teen-agers are in school. You do not, repeat, do not, go in the afternoon."

"Okay, Mairin. But let me know if you change your mind."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Mairin went out the first part of the next week and talked to the woman. The record at Juvenile Court had indicated child abuse with two of the older children. But the little one was friendly and certainly not afraid of his mother or of Mairin.

She told Harry and Bea about the case that night as she was eating a late supper. "I’d like to get a psychological evaluation of the mother," she said. "I think I can file a motion for that. Can’t I?" she questioned Harry, almost an afterthought.

"Yes," he said, "but I don't know if the court will give it to you."

"Harry, this woman may lose three children!"

"I hear that Juvenile doesn’t have the money to pay for the testing," Harry said. "No psychologist is going to test her for free."

"I’ll check it out," said Mairin.

The phone rang, and Bea went to answer it.

"It's for you, Mair."

Mairin put down her fork. "Who would call me at this hour?"

Bea just arched her eyebrows. Mairin got up and went into the kitchen where the phone was.

"Mairin! It’s Michael. What in hell have you done? I heard today that you’re working at Hadleigh."

"Yes."

"How could you do that?" He sounded incredulous.

"I won’t have a thing to do with Sandra’s case," she said.

"You’d better not," he said, "but that’s not the point. Of all firms -- Hadleigh! They’re a bunch of establishment bandits over there."

"Funny," she said, "I was down in the projects on one of their cases this morning. Don’t they know they’re not supposed to do those?"

"What do you mean? What was it?"

"Juvenile Court."

"Oh, yeah, their pro bono bit. That’s just window dressing. The big shops all take some of those cases. That’s the wrong place for you, Mairin."

"It may be," she said. "But that’s why I’m there. To see how I feel about law. Michael, you know I have reservations about law."

"I know, Mair. Take it from me, they’re not well-founded. You’ll do well, but, for Christ’s sake, pick a humane firm to work for.’

Mairin started to say something, but sighed instead.

"Okay, okay," Michael said. "I’ll go away, but look, Sandra’s spirits are a little low. How about giving her a call?"

"Okay, said Mairin, "I will. Bye." And she hung up and went back to her supper.

"Morgan," said Harry.

"Yes. He thinks I’ve sold out by working for Hadleigh. Oh, well, sometimes I think so, too, and what he doesn’t understand is that it doesn't matter what firm I worked for, I’d still feel the same way. Oh, well, about the juvenile thing, do you think I could call the court to find out about a psychological?"

"Sure."

"I’ll do it first thing tomorrow."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Mairin talked with Bob Ehrenburg, the legal director at Juvenile Court. He told her that the court was really reluctant to order testing because they’d just been handed a $500 bill by a psychologist for testing. "Look," he said, "if she’s on welfare, her Medicaid card will cover it."

"Great!" said Mairin. "I’ll get on it right away. I’ll need to ask for a continuance so that there’ll be time for testing. I’ll file it this afternoon."

She drafted the motion for a continuance and was typing it up herself when Kate stuck her head in the door. "Want to go out for a sandwich?"

They went to one of the local burger joints, wedged themselves in, and started eating their lunch. "What have you been working on?" Kate asked.

"Well, said Mairin, "Mr. Clarkson has me doing two big projects. One is on censorship -- a school board wants to remove certain materials from a school library--and the other is on a workers compensation statute."

Kate grinned. "I heard that one of our esteemed colleagues blew a filing deadline.’

"Looks like it,’ said Mairin, "but there’s room for argument."

"There usually is," said Kate.

"And I’m just getting into a juvenile case where the welfare department wants permanent custody of three children."

"Oh, oh."

What’s wrong?"

"So they’re sticking you with that stuff?"

"How do you mean?"

"That’s garbage. Those cases are the bottom of the barrel. They’re doing that to you because you’re a woman."

"I figured it was because I’m a social worker."

"That just makes it worse. It’s going to be really hard for you to get out of thcse cases. But you have to. Family law is nothing but hassles, and it doesn’t make money."

"Bob Jeffries says domestic relations pays very well."

"Oh, yes, the big cases. But he's not going to give those to you. You’ll spend your time running around in juvenile court. Or Jeffries will give you the personal hassles of his domestic relations cases while he handles the legal issues. You’ll spend all your time trying to quiet hysterical women."

"What do you think about research?" asked Mairin.

"Well, I don’t like to do it myself. I get you law clerks to work on the briefs, if any have to be written."

"What kind of work do you like?"

"Contracts, commercial law. I do a lot of negotiating of contracts, of terms in contracts.’

"That’s handling people, too, isn’t it?" asked Mairin.

"Oh, in some ways, yes, but you don’t get the irrationality that you get with husbands, wives, and the children. I work with businessmen. They're shrewd, but they don’t get all emotional about a contract. They angle for the best deal, and then they take it. They don’t cry about it. Look, if you want to stop doing social work and start doing law, get yourself out of family law."

They had finished their lunch and were walking back to the office. "Don’t worry about it," said Kate. "Of course they’re going to try to use that social work background. Just keep your eyes open for better things."