Chapter Text
August 1992
“I fail to see why you, Howard, need to be involved in the interviewing of candidates for a position in the mail room. Surely your time could be spent in more fruitful pursuits. The mail room can handle the mail room, don’t you think?”
“Father, this firm needs to be more considerate of its employees of all stripes. I don’t know why you can’t see that. No, don’t interrupt me, Father, I won’t let you talk me out of this one. I’m a partner here too, now, and I have equal say in how this firm is run. And this is something I find worthwhile.”
“Someday...someday you’re going to see that there’s only so much time in the course of a business day, and that decisions must be made about how to spend that time. And those decisions cannot be made…idealistically. They must be made practically. Still, I won’t stop you. I hope you enjoy your conversations with the fascinating people you are sure to meet in the…mail room application process."
“Oh, I assure you I will.”
Howard did, in fact, enjoy his conversations with the applicants. His life was so insular, mostly isolated from people whose annual incomes were less than $100,000, and it frankly made him want to tear his hair out at times. About once a month, he’d go to McDonald’s or Los Pollos Hermanos and simply watch the clientele, immersing himself in something…different. (Even if he couldn’t quite bear to eat the fast food.)
This particular applicant, in fact…well. He was very much enjoying his conversation with her. Kimberly Wexler, the final candidate. The other interviews had spanned 15 minutes each, but he’d already been talking to Kim for half an hour. Everything about her was fascinating, from her law school goals to her personal history: the way she’d struck out on her own, forging her own path and resisting what the fates seemed to have determined for her.
Howard could only dream of having such courage.
“And when exactly, Kim, did you decide that the law was the right profession for you?” he asked, feeling his face settling deeper and deeper into an enduring smile. He was thoroughly enjoying every answer she offered; he could listen to her talk for hours, and she seemed to have eased into the conversation. She seemed comfortable with him. It was gratifying.
Kim thought for a moment, and then smiled softly to herself. “If I’m being honest, it may have been my mother’s doing. But...not necessarily in a good way. She taught me to be mistrustful of authority, to subvert it. And for a long time...well, I thought she was right."
She was lost in thought for a spell, and then returned from her mental digression. "But when I was old enough to make sense of the kind of life she had chosen to lead, and when I began to envision something else for myself, I became drawn, more and more, to…justice.” She quirked up a reflective eyebrow. “I guess I should be interested more in the prosecutory aspect of the law, given that description. But I’m so much more drawn to defense. You know, I guess I’m more like my mother than I usually admit. I do try to subvert authority, but only unjust authority. My mother…she stood up to the powers-that-be by trying to cheat the system. I intend to do it by working with the system. Helping to steer people back on the right path, using the tools that the legal system has given us…”
Kim looked up suddenly, straight into Howard’s eyes. “Wow. That got…a little personal.” She laughed nervously.
Howard chuckled and shook his head, putting up a hand. “Not at all, Kim, it’s fascinating. I’m very impressed with the trajectory on which you have taken your life." He folded his hands again. "Can you tell me more about your goals as a defense attorney?”
She dove right back into it, bright-eyed and animated. She already knew so much about the law; she was an autodidact, clearly, and she'd learned it all even without having finished her undergraduate degree yet.
He watched her, letting her words wash over him.
He wondered if anyone else would be able to tell that her suit was secondhand. He could, of course, but it only added to her charm. Howard had been raised to be a snob — and he was, of course — but he was an equal-opportunity snob, as willing to look down on the pretentious as the crass.
Not that her suit was crass; it was lovely. It didn’t fit quite right, but it was a good suit, one he would have considered the height of female business fashion three years ago. Her hair was pulled into a half-updo, blonde locks falling onto her shoulders. Her makeup was subtle, but well done — not that that should matter. He’d taken a women’s studies course as an undergraduate, and he was quite sympathetic to the idea that it was mightily unfair that women were expected to do themselves up in the workplace in ways that men were not. But such was the way; he attempted to compensate for it by doing himself up as much as possible. As an equalizer. Howard adjusted his pocket square.
Her lipstick shade was very flattering: not too dark, but not so light that it washed her lips out. Her lips… They were lovely…
He realized that he’d lost track of what she was saying. Refocusing on her face, he saw her take the briefest glance down at her wristwatch.
He processed it all in a heartbeat: She’s not going to work here. It’s not enough money. She has to save up for an entire law school tuition, and she wants it to happen fast.
Howard cleared his throat. “Um. Hem. Kim, you know…”
He really didn’t know what he planned to say. He took a moment to formulate his thoughts. He was impeccable at readjusting his ideas on the fly; nevertheless, he preferred to know what was about to come out of his mouth before he said it. He couldn’t improvise word by word, but rather beat by beat. He smoothed out an imaginary napkin on his desk.
“You know, Kim, we have a scholarship program for promising young people who are just starting out in their legal studies."
He held his breath, feeling a heady rush. The thrill of taking action.
“Really?” she said, looking up. “I had no idea.” She frowned in curiosity. “I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about it. I’ve been looking into programs like that, and I would have thought I’d have encountered it in my search.”
Blast.
Howard restructured his thoughts again. “Well, in all honesty, it’s not one hundred percent off the ground yet. It’s been in discussion.”
In discussion. That was a bit of a stretch, but it wasn’t an outright lie. Howard had floated the idea all the way back in his law school days, as he watched the less wealthy members of his class drop out as they became unable to keep up with the payments. His father, of course, had been highly dismissive.
“Yes,” said Howard, with determination. “Yes, it’s happening. Frankly, I think the other partners have been waiting for the right test case, if you will. It is my position, if I may be so bold, that you just might be the right one.”
“Mr. Hamlin! This…”
“Howard. Please.”
“Howard, this is incredible. What makes you think that…” Something passed over her face, something with the barest hint of darkness in it. Something that was almost akin to suspicion.
But it passed. “What makes you think that I would be the right candidate?”
Howard sighed and smiled ruefully. “You know who my father is. As such, I’ve been around lawyers my whole life. I know who would make a good one and who would make a bad one; call it a gift. And you, Kim, have what it takes to be a fantastic lawyer. I’m looking at your résumé and your personal statement, and from what I can see, you’ve done an incredible job making the most of every situation you’ve been given. Kim…” Howard rose, back straight, holding out his hand. “Would you like to be the first recipient of the Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill Educational Grant?”
Kim looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. “So…does that mean I have the mail room job?”
Right. Howard had almost forgotten what she was actually applying for.
“Yes! Yes, Kim, indeed you do. Of course you do. Can you start Monday?”
Kim took his hand and stood up. “Yes, I am absolutely free. I am absolutely available. Absolutely.” She winced at her third use of the word, which was charming. Her hand was soft and tingly; her handshake was firm.
“Excellent. If you pay a visit to Maude just outside, she’ll get you set up with the paperwork.”
“Howard…thank you so much.” Kim looked like there was more she wanted to say, wanting to ask for more details about the scholarship, but she didn’t want to seem overeager.
Howard took the reins. Despite his misgivings, he felt reasonably confident that he could convince his father of the merits of the program.
“I’ll be speaking to the other partners about your receipt of the educational grant this very afternoon. I’m sure there will be no trouble about it.”
“Thank you...so, so much!” Kim said, her eyes shining.
That smile…he’d never seen anything like it.
“...and what better recipient than Miss Wexler? Ms. Wexler?” Howard ended his pitch to his fellow partners, after a barrage of words that he couldn’t bear to stop, lest Chuck or his father take the opportunity to interject. He had stood up at some point, and was talking with his hands far more than he usually did.
George Hamlin was shaking his head. Chuck remained enigmatic, looking down at the desk with his fingertips steepled against his chin.
“The nerve of you,” George said, finally. Softly. (He’d never needed to raise his voice to spit his bile.) “You offered this to her already. It’s done? Just like that. No discussion, no concurrence. How much is this going to cost the firm, Howard? That question is rhetorical, by the way. We both know how much, given the fact that I rather recently paid for your law degree.”
Howard pursed his lips, carefully sculpting his ire into a coherent argument. “Hear me out. I’ve brought this up before. I never stopped thinking it was a good idea, so I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Think about it: it will be beneficial for the firm’s PR if we take on some apprentices, the less fortunate members of society who would make excellent lawyers, if only they had the money to afford the education. This is good, this is an opportunity for us—”
“Howard, we nixed this years ago. What we had potentially landed on, in a hypothetical capacity, was the potential of offering a scholarship program — not a full tuition scholarship, mind you — to promising youth. High school students.”
Howard glanced to Chuck, who remained silent, his eyes shifting from father to son and back. Howard swallowed and pressed on. “Certainly, that was discussed, but did anything ever happen with it? It did not. And I stand by full scholarships being on the table, whether for youth or adults; if we only offer a few hundred or a few thousand dollars, the only kids who'd be eligible would be the ones who are already privileged, already able to afford most of the tuition on their own. It’s not enough, Father, and I’ve always felt that we should be doing more to—”
“It’s far less money and it sounds better on paper." George leaned forward, grimacing. "It's times like this that I wish we hadn't banned smoking in the building. Look, son: you want to talk PR? People like teenagers. They like kids. They don’t like washed-up wastrels who couldn’t get themselves together enough to go to law school when it was their time.”
“Pardon me, Father, but I…” He rolled his eyes internally, as he did every time he heard himself say “Father.” It sounded like the 1850s. His lip twitched, but he continued. “...washed-up? She’s 24. Solely through her own mettle, she scraped together enough money to attend college. True, she started at 20 instead of 18…or 16, or whenever you and Chuck started college, prodigies that you were… And she’s on track to finish her degree a semester early, mind you, even while working full-time and pursuing her education through correspondence, which must contain its own set of unique challenges. Even without this scholarship, she might enter law school at…what, age 28? This is not an unreasonable time for a person to begin their advanced education, Father. Nor is age 38, or 48, or 88. Just because you—”
George held out a hand for silence, and looked hard at his son. “Cut the crap, Howard, and tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
There was that look. He’d gotten this same look on his face the night Howard had brought home Tiffany Gallucci for dinner during his third summer home from boarding school. George Hamlin had very definite ideas about the kind of woman his son should be interested in.
George gave him a withering look. “You met this girl today, correct, Howard?”
“‘Girl,’ Father? You’re calling her a ‘girl’?” Howard laughed out loud. “Which is she…a child, or washed-up and too old for law school? I’m confused here.”
"Can she possibly mean this much to you? This...individual?” he asked, indicating Kim's résumé. George’s face was steely.
Howard stood tall and adjusted his jacket. “I refuse to confirm or deny whatever imputations you may be making. I think that—”
Finally, George stood up and leaned over the conference table. "If you're thinking at all, it's not with your head, and I would advise you to wise up before you—"
They were interrupted by a brisk, modest cough. Howard swung his head around; he'd almost forgotten about the other party in the room.
“If I may interject,” Chuck said, “This line of questioning seems not entirely relevant to our current purposes." He looked up at the Hamlins with eyebrows half-raised in what could only be called critical amusement. Howard's neck felt uncomfortably hot.
Chuck continued. "I believe that we have already come to an agreement here, an agreement that seems fair to all parties. Ms. Wexler will be our initial recipient. I see no need to rescind an offer that has been made in good faith, to a candidate who seems quite keen and capable. In the future, however, it will indeed be more cost-effective and marketable to do a complete overhaul and implement a more limited scholarship program for young people who are still in high school. I suggest we take our time in green-lighting this program, however. We’ll form an exploratory committee to work out the potential complications. How does this sound to you?”
Howard breathed into his deflation. He knew this tone of voice. Chuck would make the process take so very long that it would, for all intents and purposes, never happen. It would remain in the "exploratory committee" phase indefinitely, and while Chuck would make approving noises about it sometimes, it would never actually happen.
Well. At least Howard had secured a position, and a grant, for a candidate who seemed to be highly qualified. And vibrant, and charming, and…
Howard blinked several times, regulating his heartbeat, smoothing out the knot in his gut. Surely the feeling would pass.
“And now, if we are in agreement,” continued Chuck, “I’d like to move on to the other matter on the agenda. My brother. Now, I’ve explained his situation to you both, and frankly I would understand if you have reservations about his—”
“Hire him,” Howard said, his words clipped. He was in high dudgeon, and was not to be deterred. “I’m sure he’ll be a great asset to the firm. We need a little unconventionality around here.”
Chuck looked to the senior Hamlin, eyebrows raised. George shrugged and sat back in his chair. “Makes no difference to me. Whatever makes you happy, son,” he said, tilting his chin up at Howard.
Howard barked out a single laugh. The amount of bullshit he had heard from this man over the course of his lifetime could fill a Rolodex.
Chuck’s younger brother charmed Howard immediately. He had a rascally persona, as Chuck had said he would, but he was far more likable than Chuck had led anyone to believe. While Howard didn’t imagine they could ever be friends, he could envision popping down to the mail room from time to time and sharing a laugh with Jimmy McGill, possibly even at his older brother’s expense, when the stick up Chuck’s rear was particularly prominent.
But he refrained from saying as much in the interview. Because even as he had the instinct to say it — the instinct that told him that it would soften up the nerves that were clearly jangling throughout Jimmy’s body — he could tell that Jimmy was clearly in awe of his brother. Howard didn't want to offend him.
So he kept it inside. Kept it formal. But he reserved the right to loosen up his manner with Jimmy at some point. Surely it must happen eventually. Jimmy was an engaging guy, and Howard believed himself to be a good sport.
After the interview ended, with Jimmy pumping his hand enthusiastically, so much so that Howard couldn’t help grinning and patting him on the back, Howard trotted down to the mail room, as he’d done much more often these days.
“Kim!”
“Hi, Howard! What’s up?”
“Well, we did it. We’re hiring Chuck’s younger brother.”
“Really? That’s actually happening?” Kim made a mock-nervous grimace. “I’m gonna have to really be on my toes, I guess. Anyone related to Chuck is gonna be a stickler for following the rules to the letter, I’m guessing.” Then she furrowed her brow. “Not that I don’t already, of course…”
Howard laughed and patted her arm genially. “You have nothing to worry about, Kim. Not only are you doing an impeccable job, but Jimmy McGill…well, he doesn’t seem to have quite the same disposition as our esteemed Chuck. I doubt you’ll have any trouble with him. Actually, I think you’ll quite like him. I believe I do.”
“Oh!” Kim smiled pleasantly. “Well then, yes, I’m sure I will, too.” She took a breath and sighed into her mail cart. “Well, I’d better…get back to my sorting.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you on your rounds.”
“Sure thing. 2:20 on the dot, I’ll be there!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Howard said, smiling broadly before turning and striding away.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world? Was that too much?
No, no, he was fine. It was a perfectly respectable thing to say to an employee.
To Kim.
He had a spring in his step as he bounded up the stairs.