Free An Accidental Life by Pamela Binnings Ewen Page A

interviewed for this article who’s smiled when explaining that.”
    “Well those volumes represent six years of my life.” Doug will love this, she thought. An article in Spin-it was such good publicity for the firm. And for her, too.
    “That’s a good quote, about the books.” Tom settled back and crossed his legs. “We’ll use it. That’s what readers what to know, how you like your work. How you feel about things. What’s it like to be you, and what it took to get here.” He looked at Art and Art nodded. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
    The first question was no surprise; it was the one everyone asked first. “When did you decide you wanted to be a lawyer, and why?”
    She gave him her best smile, knowing that she’d never tell the whole story. In fact, she’d called Mama on Sunday to give her the news that she’d made partner, thinking maybe this once, just this one time there’d be a response, something more than, “Oh, that’s nice,” before launching into a stream of regret over the loss of her baby twenty years ago, and how Elise would have chosen another path . . . or something worse.
    Unspoken were the words—Elise was gone, and that was Rebecca’s fault. Now, she roused herself, looking at Tom and holding onto the smile.
    “Mostly,” she said, folding her arms and settling back, “it was just good luck.” That wasn’t true either, of course. She’d worked nonstop for thirteen years to get here, four years undergraduate, three in law school, six as an associate. But her tone, practiced and breezy carried her now. They talked for an hour about how it was to be a young woman partner in a major law firm when, at times, she was the only woman in the room.
    “What do you like best about practicing corporate law?”
    She pursed her lips and thought about the question. After a few seconds passed, she said, “I’ve worked on so many different areas of business over the years and my practice is constantly challenging. One day you could be financing a new resort hotel, the next you’re working with investors in gold mining, or international shipping.” She spread her hands. “The variety is fascinating.”
    “You like the challenges.”
    They talked about the little problems women still had to face—the private clubs where clients dined at lunch and women were not yet allowed. Problems that men in the profession had probably never given any thought, but that she and Amalise had worked through over the years. And they talked about the psychological rewards, the feelings that you’ve accomplished something, that your work has helped clients reach their goals at the end of a transaction.
    Tom said that he could see in her manner, in her tone of voice and the expressions on her face when she talked about her work, how much she loved what she was doing.
    And he was right, she replied.
    Rose Marie stuck her head through the door and informed them that the conference room was reserved only until noon.
    Rebecca glanced at her watch and then at Rose Marie. “Thanks,” she said. It was eleven thirty. “We’ll take the elevator. It’s on the eighteenth floor,” she said to Tom.
    Tom glanced at Art. “Are you ready to go on up?”
    Art was packing up the umbrellas. “Yep. You take the tripod and camera. I’ll carry these, and come back for the rest.”
    Tom leaned toward the tape recorder, and then suddenly straightened up again, turning back to her. “One more thing. Before we wrap this up I have a question: Thinking back to the time when women first got the vote, and some struck out on their own. Back in the 1920s. How would you compare the issues that generation of women faced in the business world, in comparison to your own?”
    “Today?” Rebecca looked around at her lovely new office, and then back at Tom. “It’s kind of like the moonshot, you know. Once NASA got things going in the sixties, we landed on the moon within the decade. That’s where we are today, we women.