“Ten million dollars?” Maddie repeated.
“At least. May I continue?”
She swallowed hard and sat back in her chair. “Okay.”
“We would insist that both Larry and the CEO be summarily discharged with no severance pay. They would be terminated for cause, and would not be offered the chance to resign in lieu of termination.”
“Okay.”
“I think Datacare should make a $500,000 donation to the Women’s Shelter,” I said, and Maddie looked at me quizzically. “For their exploitation of females,” I explained.
Maddie smiled. “Sometimes I just love you,” she said, and I could see the lip start to quiver.
“Don’t do it!” I said, pointing my pen at her. She took a deep breath and held it back. “What do you think? Anything else?” I asked.
She shook her head no. I think she was still stunned by the $10 million figure, which I wasn’t convinced was even enough to start out with. We’d obviously be working down from that figure, so I was contemplating starting even higher.
“Okay. I’ll dictate our counter offer as soon as you get out of here and leave me alone.”
Maddie stood up and looked at me like she was thinking. After a second, she started out, “Samuel . . . I don’t even know how to begin to thank you,” but I cut her off before she could continue.
“Maddie,” I said. “I’m your lawyer. I’m not doing anything more than any other lawyer would do for you. And I haven’t gotten you a dime yet. So don’t thank me until I actually do something for you.”
“I can’t believe you believe that, but if you do, you are so wrong. You’ve done more for me than anyone I’ve ever known. And even if I never see a dime out of this whole thing, I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I can never repay you.”
“Hey, believe me . . . 40% of a million bucks would be more than enough to repay me.”
Maddie smiled and I couldn’t help smile back. She looked especially pretty that day, and as much as I liked to refer to her as my client, that was actually the last way I thought of her. She was definitely my friend first, and a very good friend, at that.
“Now will you get out of here so I can get some work done!” I said. I didn’t need her getting sentimental on me.
“I’m leaving,” she said, but she turned back around as she walked towards the door and busted me watching her. “What?” she said defensively, when I didn’t avert my eyes.
“What what?” I said.
“Never mind. I swear Samuel, sometimes I worry about you.”
“Are you going to leave, or am I going to have to physically escort you out of my office? I know what it is. You want to be close to me.”
This time Maddie rolled her eyes. And she did it so good that it looked like she’d learned it from Niki, himself. “You’re a sick man, Samuel.” And with that, she closed the door behind her. I sat there in my chair smiling for the next couple of minutes thinking about her, trying to sort out my feelings for her. There were so many facets to our relationship that sometimes they all blurred together. One thing was for sure. I had underestimated Maddie in almost every respect: as a mother, as a client, as a secretary, and as a woman. And I wasn’t altogether thrilled with the feelings that surfaced every now and then over her. And while I didn’t consciously indulge any feelings I had towards Maddie, I still felt like I was betraying Landra when they cropped up.
In the end, I shook off the thought and got back to business. I dictated our counter proposal, but I upped the settlement figure to $14 million. We could always go down, but we couldn’t go up. If we ended up with a half-million, I’d be ecstatic.
Chapter 21
Oliver came over bright and early Saturday morning. He was wearing a backpack that was nearly as big as he was and it looked like he had enough gear to last us a week.
“Whoa, how long are we going for?” I asked him.
He looked at me like I was dumb. “It’s just for today.”
“Well, what’s all that stuff you’ve got there?”
He seized the opportunity to empty the entire contents onto my kitchen floor, then he held up each item, calling out its name as if it weren’t self-explanatory.
“Canteen. It’s got water in it. Bug spray. Lunch. Mom made us fried chicken.”
“Awesome.”
He held up a brown bag. “Snacks.”
“Like what?”
Oliver opened the bag and looked in, then he dumped it on the floor. “Raisins, granola bars, apples, bananas, cheerios. There’s only one orange so we have to share it.” He put the snacks back in the bag and continued, “There’s milk in this thermos.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have time to do anything but eat,” I said.
“This is a picnic blanket; and this is a thing with a whole bunch of tools on it. Mom didn’t know if you had one.” He handed me the Leatherman, then made me pull out every tool on the thing.
“Cool.”
“Do you have one?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Toilet paper.” He held up the roll.
“Good.”
“And extra clothes, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” I asked.
Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. That’s just what Mom said.”
“Okay. Well it looks like you’re all set.”
We loaded his backpack and my stuff into the Suburban. I still had Oliver’s seat in there from that first week I’d moved in. It had been such a hassle to get the thing in I hadn’t even attempted to get it out. Oliver strapped himself in and we took off.
The drive out was a lot like the drive to Guadalupe State Park. Oliver talked incessantly the whole way. I thought I could tune him out, but it was impossible because he kept asking questions that required more than an uh huh answer. He was doing the what if thing again, and I was trying not to let it irritate me.
“What if we go the wrong way and can’t find the place?” he asked.
“We’re not gonna go the wrong way. I know where it is,” I assured him.
“But what if we do?”
“Then we’ll turn around and go the right way.”
“What if my horse won’t go when I tell it to?”
“If you give it a good kick it will. Besides, I think that we both ride the same horse. I don’t think you’ll be riding by yourself.”
“What if they make me ride by myself?” he asked.
“Do you want to ride by yourself?” I asked.
“No. I want to ride with you.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“What if they don’t let me?”
“Are you doing this to me on purpose?” I asked.
“Doing what?”
“Your what if thing. You keep thinking up all kinds of things that could go wrong. Everything’s going to be great, Oliver. Quit worrying about it.”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Already? Didn’t you go before we left?”
“Yes, but I have to go again. It’s an emergency.”
I could just envision having to reupholster the back seat of my Suburban. “You need to hold it for a few minutes. I can’t pull over right here. I’ll stop at the next place we come to.”
“I have to go really bad.”
“What number?” I was afraid to hear the answer.
“What number what?”
“You know – Number 1 or Number 2?” I realized by the blank look on his face that he had no idea what I was talking about. “Number 1 means you have to pee. Number 2 means you have to poop,” I explained.
His whole face lit up with the knowledge I’d just imparted. “I have to do Number 1.” I was immensely relieved until he added, “And Number 2.”
I groaned. What was it with Maddie’s kids and me and Number 2? “Can you hold it for a minute?”
“Yeah. I can hold Number 2, but I have to go Number 1 really bad.”
I came to the top of a hil
l and spotted a Valero. “We’re pulling over right now. You’ve got to hold it,” I said, and the just in case clothes flashed through my mind. So that’s what she meant. I drove as fast as I dared and pulled into a parking space, slamming to a stop.
Apparently my definition of emergency was different from Oliver’s, because as soon as we pulled over, all urgency seemed to vanish. He dawdled getting out of his seat, he dawdled getting out of the car, and he dawdled on the way into the store. I was practically dragging him by the arm so we wouldn’t need to resort to the just in case clothes, and he looked at me like, ‘What’s the rush?’ Now that I understood the significance of the coded just in case message, I could only imagine what other situations might arise later in the trip where the clothes might come into play. At that point, I likened the clothes to a trump card and I didn’t want to have to use them so early in the game.
“Look! They have candy,” Oliver said, stopping to check it out.
“I thought you said it was an emergency,” I said irritated. “Do you even have to go?”
He nodded. “Number 1 and Number 2.”
“Well, let’s get it over with.”
It was a good 20 minutes before we were back on the road. It was like the kid had no place to be; no timetable whatsoever. I stood outside the stall, “Are you finished?”
“No.”
Five minutes later. “You about done?”
“No.”
Another five minutes. “Now?”
“No.”
It finally struck me that men’s toilet habits start as young as four years old. The kid was in no rush, period. If I’d given him a magazine, he would have been content to look at it from cover to cover. Once we were back in the car, I banned him from drinking anything else until we got to the ranch. We pulled in and parked beside the other cars.
“You want to ride on my shoulders?” I asked.
“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically, then he giggled the whole time while he pulled my ears, honked my nose, and gave me a wet willie in each ear.
The place was cool. There was a big house with a huge patio that looked over the creek; a pavilion; a playground with a giant fort and slides, swings, seesaws and all kinds of things to climb on. Much of the small brush had been cleared away, but there were enormous pecan trees and oak trees that would shade the whole area in the summer. There was a grassy field for the kids to play in and a whole slew of footballs, soccer balls, softballs and gloves. I took Oliver off my shoulders and set him down and a couple of kids came up and said hi. There were nine boys in all and Oliver was by far the best looking kid there.
“Want to throw the football?” Oliver asked excitedly.
“Sure, but don’t you want to play with your friends?” I asked.
“I want to play with you,” he said, and he took my hand and led me towards the field. We threw the football for a while, then we switched to soccer, then we tossed the softball back and forth, and we finally went back to throwing the football.
All the other dads were visiting with each other while their kids played with the other kids, and for some reason, one by one, the kids gravitated to where Oliver and I were playing. They had formed a big circle with me in the middle and they were trying to play keep-away from me, but most of them had such a lousy arm that we turned it into a game of dodge ball instead. I was saved when the ranch foreman called us over to go on a hayride. We all piled onto the wagon and Oliver decided that the hay was too scratchy so he sat on my lap the whole time. Once again, the majority of the dads weren’t even paying attention to their kids and I had to wonder what they thought the purpose of the field trip was. After the hayride we all went out on the porch and ate lunch.
“Remind me to thank your mom for this chicken,” I told Oliver. “It’s awesome.”
“She makes the best.”
“She does,” I agreed.
We finished lunch and I took Oliver over to the railing looking over the creek. “Hey,” I said to get his attention. He focused those big blue eyes on me. “I hear they’re going to have a three-legged sack race. Have you ever done one before?” I asked him.
He shook his head no.
“Okay. Here’s how you do it,” I told him, then I gave him some pointers that my dad had given me when I was about Oliver’s age. He listened intently and when I finished we high-fived. “We’re gonna win . . . you and me,” I told him, and taking into account the non-interaction between the other dads and their sons, there was no doubt in my mind that we would.
I was getting ready to say something else when I was distracted by a group of beautiful girls that had come out onto the porch. Their hair was all done up and I assumed they were there for a wedding.
“What are they doing here?” Oliver asked.
Every single one of them was gorgeous. “Maybe someone’s getting married. They look fine, don’t they?” I said, gawking.
“I guess,” he said, unconvinced.
“Trust me. They do,” I assured him.
“It’s time for the sack races,” someone called out.
“Sack races!” Oliver said.
“You remember what I told you?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna win!”
“Not that part. Do you remember what I told you about how to do it?”
“Yeah. Will you carry me?”
“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” I said.
“Nuh uh,” Oliver laughed. I picked him up and carried him back to the field where we’d played ball. There were 10 lanes chalked off so we grabbed a sack and took the closest lane and got in position. We looked like a couple of professionals compared to the other teams.
“How do we do this?” one dad was saying.
“I don’t want to play,” one kid whined.
What a pathetic bunch.
“Are you ready?” I asked Oliver. His grin gave me his answer. The kid was absolutely beaming. It took another five minutes before all the teams were ready. One had dropped out completely. Finally, the foreman blew the whistle and we were off.
The lanes were long and we had to go up and back so it was going to be a long race for such little kids. It was clear from the start that most of the teams were definitely not going to be contenders. Hell, some of them barely got off the starting line before falling down. Oliver and I took off, counting one-two-one-two, as we’d talked about. Our timing was perfectly coordinated, just like when my dad and I had raced together. In fact, Oliver and I were so far ahead of the others that I considered slowing down to let them catch up, but then I thought, screw that. By the time we got to the end of the lane to turn around, the closest father/son team was only halfway down the lane. We passed them on the way back and Oliver waved happily to his friend.
The two of us had started laughing and it was making it difficult to count, plus we were both winded and laughing didn’t help.
I looked down at Oliver and the look on his face at that moment was one of such contentment that I knew I’d never forget it. And I decided right then that I needed to take a fatherly role in the kid’s life. Boys need a male influence in their life and Oliver was no exception. It was only logical that I should take on part of the responsibility because, unlike someone who Maddie may date, I wasn’t going to come and go from his life. I was his neighbor. I wasn’t going anywhere. Oliver was too cool a kid to miss out on the guy stuff that boys do with their dads.
“Ouch. You stepped on my foot!” Oliver laughed.
“Sorry,” I said, breathing heavily.
As we neared the finish line, I looked back over my shoulder to scope out the competition, but the closest team had just started the lap back. We crossed the finish line with both of us yelling wildly. I scooped up Oliver then I dropped and rolled with him in my arms as we laughed and yelled, “We won!” We weren’t exactly politically correct, but who cares?
Even after our celebration, we had time to sit up and cheer for our dismally slow competition. “Come on! You can do it!” we yelled.
Finally the other dads and sons were actually interacting, stumbling and laughing and having a great time. After what seemed like an eternity, the last team crossed the finish line and it was almost like we were with a whole different group of people. The mood of the place was completely changed and from then on, up to the time we left, it was definitely a father/son thing. I got the feeling that for some of them, it was the first time they had actually bonded with each other.
“Anyone want to ride a horse?” the foreman asked.
Cheers went up in all directions from the kids. Oliver pulled on my pants leg. “Tell them we want to ride together.”
“Oliver and I are riding together,” I told the foreman when we got to the front.
They brought out a beautiful bay and I swung my leg over and climbed into the saddle and the foreman handed Oliver up to me. A couple of the boys were riding by themselves but most were riding with their dads. When everyone had mounted-up the foreman got on his own horse and took the lead for the trail ride. We ambled along beside the creek, then up into the hills and back down the other side, crossing the creek twice, then stopping by the water for a snack.
The kids were playing together throwing rocks into the creek, so I decided I might as well be sociable and meet some of the dads. They were actually a nice group, even though I was an outsider, and a few of us even had some common friends.
It was already close to 5:00 o’clock by the time the trail ride was over and I was exhausted. I hadn’t had such a busy day since I was a kid. And if I was that tired, I could only imagine how tired Oliver must have been. We hadn’t stopped all day. But when we got back to the stable, the kids got a spurt of energy from somewhere and they all took off for the playground. I was more than ready to get back home, but Oliver was having such a good time I didn’t have the heart to drag him away. And no way was I going to be the first to leave.
Advice of Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 1) Page 24
