Janelle’s mouth dropped open. “You’re doing that?”
“Starting with the mail.”
Janelle shook her head as she left the office. She stopped and turned around. “Oh, Ray called while you didn’t want to be interrupted. He’ll meet you at Red’s for lunch at noon. I told him your calendar was clear.”
“Red’s?”
“That’s what he said.”
Corbin walked past several booths until his son’s face came into view. Ray was squeezing a lemon wedge into a glass of tea. Corbin slipped into the booth.
“I didn’t know you liked Red’s beans and rice,” Corbin said.
“I don’t. I’m getting a vegetable plate.”
Sally took their orders. After she left, Ray remained quiet. Corbin shifted in the booth and placed his hands on the table.
“Has Steve Nelson hired your replacement?” he asked.
“I heard through the grapevine that Brett Dortch came in this morning,” Ray replied in a flat tone of voice.
“Dortch? How long has he been practicing? Six months? He barely knows where the jury sits in the courtroom. He’s going to have a hard time filling your shoes. Within three months Steve Nelson is going to wish he had you back running the felony trial calendar—”
“The Simpkin firm withdrew its offer,” Ray interrupted.
Corbin’s mouth opened, then immediately snapped shut. Ray glanced down at the table.
“Why?” Corbin asked.
Ray looked up into his father’s eyes. “Because of you.”
In a split second several thoughts raced through Corbin’s mind in a rapid-fire moral inventory a lot more serious than procrastination in opening the mail. In the deepest part of his soul, he knew his conduct could, at times, be embarrassing to his family, but not to the level of costing Ray a job.
“I don’t understand.”
“Are you that dense?” Ray tapped the side of his head.
Startled, Corbin sat back in his seat. Ray had never been so blatantly disrespectful.
“The Colfax lawsuit,” Ray continued. “The company hired the Simpkin firm to defend it.”
“That’s bogus.” Corbin’s eyes flashed. “They knew when they offered you the job that I could end up on the opposite side of a case. That’s been going on for decades.”
“Petty stuff”—Ray shrugged—“which could be ignored so long as I didn’t work on the files. Colfax is the firm’s biggest client, and my name can’t be on the letterhead if your name is on pleadings against the company.”
Corbin saw Sally across the restaurant and suddenly wished he could order a tall glass of “mountain water.” He rubbed his temples as a headache began to creep up the sides of his skull.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is that all?” Ray asked.
“What do you want me to say? I can’t dismiss the lawsuit.”
Ray stared hard at him. “It probably wouldn’t make any difference if you did, but I wish you hadn’t been so blunt about it. It just reinforces my opinion that you really don’t care about anyone except yourself.”
Corbin felt backed into a cage of his own making. He ground his teeth together. “I could call Darryl Simpkin. He’s a pompous, arrogant—”
“Don’t go to the trouble,” Ray cut in. “At this point Mr. Simpkin is convinced I’d be more of a liability to the firm than an asset, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change his mind. A phone call from you would only make it worse.”
Ray put his face in his hands.
Corbin stared at the top of his son’s head. “Have you told Cindy?” he asked in a softer tone of voice.
Ray spoke to the tabletop. “No, she’s out house hunting today.”
Corbin winced. Sally brought their food. Corbin waited for Ray to say a blessing. Instead his son stuck his fork in a mound of mashed potatoes and slowly stirred in the brown gravy pooled on top.
“Aren’t you going to pray?” Corbin asked.
Ray looked up. “What do you suggest I pray?”
They ate in silence.
Roxy was pleasantly tired when she walked through the door of her townhome. Some days she left the office with a sense there was more to do than when she’d arrived in the morning. Today hadn’t been one of those days. It ended in a meeting with Mr. Caldweller and several other attorneys to discuss a new case transferred from the Houston office to Atlanta. Roxy waited with resignation to find out what the senior partner was going to pile on top of her already full plate. When he reached her, he paused.
“Roxy, I’m going to let you sit this one out,” he said. “Unless you want to volunteer, of course.”
Roxy hesitated. There would have been a time early in her career when she would have been afraid not to volunteer. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d appreciate a pass.”
“Done,” Caldweller replied. “You’re free to leave.”
Roxy caught a hint of envy in the eyes of a couple of associates who’d not been given the opportunity to choose their fate. She left the conference room and took a deep breath of air free of increased responsibility.
As soon as she closed the front door, she kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot into the kitchen. Her cell phone vibrated.
“Did you just get home?” Peter asked.
“Are you stalking me? First you know when I’m finished running. Now this.”
“It’s just a guess based on when your assistant told me you left the office and my research into traffic congestion.”
“That makes me feel better.”
“The bad news is that I’m going to have to break our dinner date.”
Roxy leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why?”
“I’m working the second shift because we need to talk to a client in Korea, and they won’t be available until eleven o’clock tonight.”
“Ouch. How long will the meeting last?”
“At least three or four hours.”
“Can you sleep late tomorrow?”
“Yeah, our whole team is involved in this project. What time works for you tomorrow evening?”
“I won’t know for sure until the afternoon.” She told him what happened with Caldweller and the new case.
“That’s cool,” Peter answered. “He’s beginning to figure out what I’ve known for months.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re awesome in every way.”
Roxy knew Peter’s compliments were genuine, but she still felt a nagging doubt whether they were really true. “I don’t know—”
“No,” Peter interrupted. “I won’t be able to focus on this Korea project if I’m wondering whether you believe me.”
“Okay, okay.” Roxy licked her lips.
“Send me a text about tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
Roxy placed her phone on the counter beside the microwave. The more contact she had with Peter, the more she wanted. She heated up a leftover chicken and pasta dish from a restaurant meal and took it out to her patio. It was a pleasant evening with promise for a cool morning, perfect for running. She sat in a wrought iron chair painted a light cream color and propped her feet up on its twin. Taking out her phone, she checked her messages. There was one from Peter with a selfie. In the photo he had a big smile on his face as he held up a picture of her he kept in his office.
I’D RATHER BE HANGING OUT WITH THE REAL PERSON
Roxy smiled as a sense of thankfulness rose up within her. “Thank you, Lord,” she murmured, then stopped.
The words had come out of her mouth without checking with her mind first. She glanced around the patio, not sure what she was looking for. Then she remembered where she’d heard them.
From her mother’s lips.
Buried in her subconscious, the phrase had lain dormant, waiting for a perfect time to bubble to the surface. It was a simple response Kitty applied to things great or small that brought her a hint of joy. Roxy had heard the phrase while her mother knelt in the flower
beds in front of the house on Willow Oak Lane, when she held the infant Billy in her arms, and many times in between. It was a quiet, gentle refrain that had lodged deep inside a secret place Roxy never visited.
Until now.
She looked again at Peter’s selfie and decided he would probably like what she’d said. Sitting in the fading light of the patio, Roxy thought about being thankful.
And she looked forward to telling Peter in person.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ray waited until Billy was asleep to break the bad news to Cindy. Her eyes widened, then filled with tears that silently ran down her face. She grabbed a paper napkin from a stack in the middle of the kitchen table.
“Well,” she said. “I didn’t really like the house on Walker Street anyway. It wasn’t my style.”
“And we still have a house payment on this place. I’m not sure—”
“No!” Cindy raised her hand to stop him. “That’s not what I need to hear. I realize what losing this opportunity means to us, but to hear you say it like that is too much for me right now.”
“Sorry.”
Cindy put her hand on her abdomen. “The tiny person in here has the perfect home, and I’m going to pray we’ll have one for all of us by the time he or she comes out to meet us.”
Ray didn’t point out the obvious hurdle—that he not only didn’t have a job with the Simpkin firm, he had no job at all.
Cindy continued with increased determination in her voice. “And if you have to work with your father for a while until something else comes up, I won’t stop you.”
“What?” Ray asked, shocked. “It’s his fault this happened.”
“And he owes it to you to help us out. Didn’t that thought cross your mind when you were eating lunch with him?”
“No,” Ray answered truthfully. “It didn’t. I was hard on him.”
“He deserved that too. Look, I can tolerate you working with him on a temporary basis, so long as he matches the salary you’ve been making at the DA’s office.”
Ray’s head was spinning. “Should I wait for him to bring it up?” he asked.
“I want you to march into his office the first thing tomorrow morning and tell him.”
Ray stared at Cindy and wondered what had happened to his sweet wife. He shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
“No!” Cindy replied emphatically. “Tell him he has to do it.”
While Ray and Cindy sat at the kitchen table, Corbin nursed his fourth shot of whiskey at The Office.
“One more for the road.” He held up his glass to the new bartender, a large, bearded man in his thirties who could do double duty as a bouncer.
“No, buddy,” the bartender replied. “I think you’ve already topped off for the night.”
“Where’s Ralph?” Corbin demanded. “He’s never turned me down for a refill.”
The bartender leaned on the counter and flexed his massive biceps. “Ralph went home early and left me in charge.”
“Get him on the phone,” Corbin said, his temper rising. “What’s your name?”
The bartender pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a tattoo of the Greek god Zeus holding a thunderbolt in his hand.
“You can call me Zeus. And I’m not going to bother Ralph just because you want me to.”
“Well, I’m going to call you Peter Pan.” Corbin got up unsteadily from his stool. “And the next time I see Ralph, I’m going to let him know how you treated a regular customer who’s been coming here since before you were born.”
“Tell him whatever you want.” “Zeus” stood up and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s time for you to go.”
Rage rose up in Corbin like gasoline thrown on an already raging fire. “Why, you stupid—”
Before he could get out another word, the bartender reached across the bar and grabbed the front of Corbin’s shirt.
“If I have to come out from behind this bar, you’re going to eat a mouthful of gravel in the parking lot,” the younger man growled.
Corbin glanced to the side. Everyone else in the bar was watching. To Corbin’s right was Kenny Pickett, the owner of a local used car lot. Corbin and Kenny had known each other for over twenty years. Kenny jumped up from his chair and came over to them.
“Calm down, Corbin,” he said. “How about I drive you home?”
Corbin knocked away the bartender’s hand, and the large man started to leave his spot behind the bar.
“Come on.” Kenny lightly touched Corbin on the arm and urged him in the direction of the door. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
Corbin reluctantly complied.
“I’ve got this,” Kenny said over his shoulder to the bartender.
Corbin and Kenny stepped outside.
“He doesn’t know who you are,” Kenny said. “Zeus has only been working here for about a month, and you haven’t been coming in as often as usual.”
“If I were twenty years younger—”
“He still would have tossed you out on your head. Corbin, you’re a big man, but there’s more teddy bear than grizzly bear inside you.”
“That’s not what Ray thinks,” Corbin grunted.
“What’s going on with Ray?”
Alcohol had loosened Corbin’s tongue, and even though Kenny was only a casual friend, Corbin told him what happened.
“That’s the way it is with kids,” Kenny replied, shaking his head. “I sold my son a car at cost a few months ago, and he got mad at me when the engine blew because he didn’t change the oil.”
Corbin brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I’d better get going,” he said.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you? You knocked down a pocketful of shots pretty quickly.”
“Why do you say that?” Corbin asked, his voice rising in volume.
“Hey, it’s just an opinion. You’ve always been able to hold your liquor.”
“Where’s my truck?” Corbin squinted his eyes. “I thought I parked beside the light pole.”
“Is that it over there?” Kenny pointed.
Corbin followed Kenny’s finger to the corner of the building. “Yeah, there it is. See you later.” He turned away and began to walk unsteadily across the parking lot.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
“No!” Corbin waved off the question with his right hand.
Ray was sitting in the den doing his morning devotional when Cindy came in.
“Listen to this,” Ray said. “‘But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.’ It’s in Matthew 6. If the trouble I’m going to face today is anything like what I went through yesterday, I’m going back to bed.”
“It’s too late,” Cindy replied evenly. “I already made it.”
Ray closed the Bible. “After sleeping on it and in the light of a new day, have you changed your mind about me talking to my father about a job?”
“No—but only if you agree it’s the right thing to do.”
“One big concern is that doing a stint with him will look bad on my résumé when I try to find a real job. The Simpkin firm is the best firm in town, and it’s a short list of local lawyers I’d be willing to work for. This might mean a move away from Alto.”
“Ray.” Cindy put her hand to her mouth.
“We don’t have to talk about that this morning,” he added quickly.
Cindy nodded and moved quickly in the direction of the bathroom.
“I’ll go see him!” Ray called after her.
Ray parked at the rear of the building and used his key to unlock the back door. Janelle was sitting at her desk, and she jumped when Ray came up behind her.
“You scared the fire out of me!” she said. “I knew it couldn’t be your father coming through the back door.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t get here for at least another
thirty minutes.”
Janelle gave him a surprised look. “Didn’t he get in touch with you?”
“About what?”
“He was arrested last night when he pulled out of the parking lot of The Office tavern. He refused a Breathalyzer, so they took him to the hospital for a blood test. He called me about an hour ago from the jail. They impounded his truck for the night. I assumed he’d already contacted you.”
“No,” Ray said, his shoulders slumping. “He didn’t.”
“He’s going to catch a cab and come here as soon as they let him out.”
On cue the front door of the office opened, and a disheveled Corbin Gage entered. His hair was sticking out all over his head, and he was wearing the clothes he’d worn the previous day. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Ray.
“What are you doing here?” he grunted.
“Why didn’t you call me when you were arrested?” Ray shot back.
Corbin ignored the question.
“Janelle, can you take me home?” he asked. “I need a shower and change of clothes. I have a motion hearing at eleven, and I don’t want to ask for a continuance.”
“I’ll drive you,” Ray said to his father. “Janelle is your legal assistant, not your personal chauffeur. Is there anything you need to do before the hearing?”
Corbin looked at Janelle. “It has to do with the second request for production of documents I filed. You know, the ones asking for tax, bank, and corporate records for the other company owned by the defendant. Make sure the affidavit from the guy who used to work in the accounts payable department is on my desk. I can’t remember his name. There are a bunch of exhibits attached to the affidavit that I need to go over.”
“Anything else?” Janelle asked.
“Not that I can think of right now, but I don’t trust my brain after spending the night in the drunk tank.”
“Let’s go,” Ray said. “My car is out back.”
“Why?” Corbin asked.
“Because that’s where people who work here park their vehicles.”
A House Divided Page 20
