“What!” Corbin and Janelle both asked at the same time.
“I thought you were about to go to work with the Simpkin firm,” Janelle said.
“There’s no job over there for anyone named Gage,” Ray replied. “Especially after a case filed against Colfax on behalf of two little boys with cancer landed on Nate Stamper’s desk yesterday morning.”
“Corbin,” Janelle said, her voice rising. “You shouldn’t—”
“No.” Ray cut her off. “I told him what I thought about it yesterday at lunch, but I went about it the wrong way. I’ll call you after I see how he’s feeling.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room,” Corbin said. “I hate it when people do that.”
“Then let’s leave,” Ray said.
“What’s behind your comment about working here?” Corbin asked when they were seated in Ray’s car.
“It’s simple. You owe me a job until I find another one, because you cost me the job I had. What’s hard to understand about that? And I expect you to match my salary at the DA’s office.”
Corbin tried to process what was really going on, his mind weakened by a hangover and sleep deprivation.
“Isn’t this what you wanted all along?” Ray continued. “For me to work with you? Well, now you’re going to get it. All you have to do is agree to my terms, which are nonnegotiable.”
“And if I don’t?”
Ray glanced sideways at him. “Look in the mirror when you get home and decide if you need my help at the office while you get your life straightened out.”
“You seem happy about all this.”
“Not a bit. But maybe there’s a chance this DUI will force you to admit that alcohol is a huge problem for you. If you care about yourself, Billy, and the law practice, you’re going to admit the facts and do something about it.”
They rode in silence for a few moments.
“Look, I went to the tavern because of what you said to me at lunch,” Corbin said. “I haven’t been drinking as much lately, and I guess I underestimated the effect it would have on me.”
Ray kept his eyes on the road. “Dad, I spoke at Red’s out of my own disappointment, and as I said in front of Janelle, I didn’t communicate with you in a mature way. I’m sorry for that. But I’m not going to let you blame me for this DUI. You’re sixty-two years old. It’s time for you to take responsibility for your own conduct.”
Corbin couldn’t figure out why Ray seemed so assertive and confident.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked when they slowed to turn into the driveway of Corbin’s duplex.
“I’m not exactly sure, but when I saw you walk through the door of the office today, something rose up inside me. Maybe it’s because Mom prayed for me all those years.” Ray turned off the engine and faced his father. “And there’s no statute of limitations on prayer.”
TWENTY-NINE
The cut below Corbin’s eye had almost healed, but he didn’t look good. His eyes were bloodshot and the skin on his face was sagging more than ever. He finished shaving, wiped his face with a towel, and checked to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot. He leaned over to splash water on his face, and when he raised it up he felt light-headed. He rested his hands on the sink for a few seconds while he waited for the room to stop spinning. He moved slowly while getting dressed, then walked into the den where Ray waited.
“I feel like a new man,” Corbin said, trying to sound optimistic.
“Where’s your tie?” Ray asked.
Corbin felt his neck. He’d buttoned the top button of his shirt, but he’d forgotten to put on a tie. “On a rack in my closet,” he said.
Returning to the bedroom, he saw the tie he’d selected lying on the bed. He picked it up and wrapped it around his neck without attempting a knot and came back out. “Let’s go.”
“I thought you might want a cup of coffee so I brewed a pot while you cleaned up. I called Janelle and told her we’d be on our way shortly. She has everything ready for your hearing.”
Corbin grabbed the cup and saw a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Some of the dried-on food was hard as concrete.
“I was going to clean the dishes last night,” he said.
Ray walked away without responding. Corbin hesitated, wondering if he should fill the sink with water so the dishes could soak.
“Are you coming?” his son called out.
Corbin left the kitchen and found Ray waiting by the carport door. Corbin took a sip of the hot coffee. His mouth welcomed the slightly bitter drink.
“This is good coffee,” he said.
“Do you want me to start making the morning coffee at the office?” Ray asked. “It could be part of my daily to-do list.”
“Come on, Ray,” Corbin said. “Are you serious about this job thing?”
“Did you look in the mirror like I asked you to?”
Corbin didn’t answer. Ray backed up the car and turned it around so he could drive forward down the long driveway.
“You’re right about one thing,” Corbin said, taking another sip of coffee. “What happened last night is going to create all kinds of problems for me.”
“I know. Are you ready to talk about it?”
Corbin looked out the car window. “Which part?”
“Wherever you want to begin.”
“Do you think I can keep from losing my driver’s license?”
“What would you tell a client in your situation?”
It was an easy question.
“That I can probably save his license if he agrees to pay a fine and take some classes about the dangers of drinking and driving.”
“Sounds reasonable to me, unless Steve Nelson wants to be vindictive. In that case we’ll have to work directly with the judge.”
“You’re going to represent me?”
Ray slowed as a car in front of them stopped to make a turn.
“I think I’m competent to handle a DUI charge. Of course we don’t know the results of your blood test. How many drinks did you have?”
“More than two.” Corbin sighed. “At least five or six over an hour and a half or so. I was sitting alone at the bar.”
“Then you know that can make it tougher.”
Corbin was feeling more remorseful and less defensive by the second. “Yeah, it was a stupid thing to do,” he said.
“That’s the most sober thing you’ve said today.”
“And the bar association will probably be breathing down my neck wanting me to get treatment and threatening disciplinary action if I don’t. But they can inspect my trust account and talk to my clients all they want to. My bank records are up to date, and I’ve not dropped the ball on any of my cases.” Corbin paused. “Except for missing a deadline a few months ago in a low impact car wreck case. I settled directly with the client without notifying my malpractice carrier.”
“Did the client have independent counsel to advise them on your offer?”
“No, but it was fair. More money than he could have gotten at trial.”
Corbin remembered two other situations in which he could possibly be accused of abandoning representation. The cases were lingering problems he’d not resolved.
“Okay,” Corbin said. “What were you making at the DA’s office?”
Corbin knew Ray’s salary when Jimbo Sanders hired him, but didn’t know about raises. He was surprised at the low amount.
“That’s not much more than when you started.”
“True.”
They reached the outskirts of town. Ray slowed as he reached the corner for Corbin’s office. “Are you up to handling this hearing?” he asked.
Corbin drained the last drops of coffee. “I have to. The worst part is going to be facing the judge. I’m sure word of my arrest has made the rounds of the courthouse already.”
“Probably, but it won’t be a huge shock. Everyone figured it would happen eventually. I guess that’s another reason why I’ve been so calm about it. I’ve bee
n waiting a long time for something like this to happen. Now that it’s here, I’m not surprised.”
Corbin was still trying to digest Ray’s comment as he got out of the car. As he entered the office, he realized that when he looked in the mirror he saw a different man than other people did.
Ray drove around to the rear of the office and called Cindy.
“What are we going to say to Billy?” she asked when Ray finished.
“That I’m going to work with Pops. He’ll think it’s a great idea.”
“No, about your father’s arrest for DUI.”
“We won’t say anything about it.”
“Will that stop someone in his class teasing him about it on the playground?” Cindy asked, her voice rising with concern. “And there’s no guarantee the newspaper won’t mention it in the crime blotter.”
Ray paused. “If that comes up, we’ll deal with it then. There’s no good way to explain it to Billy now.”
“People are going to stare at me and whisper behind my back at the grocery store and church. How am I supposed to feel about that?”
“Uh, not good. But Dad’s reputation as a man who likes to drink liquor isn’t breaking news. I’ve dealt with it since I was a kid.”
Cindy didn’t answer.
“I’m sitting in the parking lot behind his office,” Ray said after he waited a few more seconds. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Not sure what to make of Cindy’s reaction, Ray chalked it up to information overload coupled with the hormonal dump that was part of pregnancy. He offered a quick silent prayer that the stress Cindy felt wouldn’t affect their unborn child. Losing the baby would be the ultimate blow.
Roxy sat at her desk grinding away on a brief in support of a motion for summary judgment that had little chance of success. Nevertheless, Mr. Caldweller would expect her to prepare a written argument that granting the motion was completely reasonable under the law and facts. As she worked she kept swatting away an inner voice that jumped up to object and disagree with each point she needed to make. It was a classic exercise of the selective logic an attorney has to apply when presenting a case—she had to avoid misrepresenting the evidence and judicial precedents to the judge and at the same time advance an argument Caldweller could deliver with a straight face. Even though the client would expect Mr. Caldweller to show up and argue the motion, Roxy wondered if the senior partner would ultimately send her into court for the suicide mission. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up.
“Mr. Peter Spence is here for your lunch appointment,” the woman said.
“He is?” Roxy asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
Roxy pulled out her purse and checked her appearance. She hoped a quick touch-up to her face would remove the effects of working on the doomed motion. She smoothed her dress with her hands as she left her office. Sure enough, a smiling Peter stood as she entered the reception area.
“I thought we were going to see each other for supper tomorrow night,” she said.
“I couldn’t wait. Can you get away for an hour now?”
Roxy glanced at the young receptionist, who was vigorously nodding her head.
“You’re not Mr. Caldweller,” Roxy said to the young woman.
“And I’m not going to tell him where you are if he asks,” she replied.
“It’s okay,” Roxy said. “I’m ahead of schedule on a project. I can slip away.”
Peter briefly touched the back of Roxy’s arm as he guided her toward the elevator. Even the simple contact made Roxy feel special.
“You took a big chance coming here unannounced,” she said when they reached the bank of elevators. “You didn’t know I could take a break.”
“You’re worth the risk.”
Roxy rolled her eyes and smiled. “Have you been studying how to be romantic?”
Peter pointed to his heart. “I let this talk to me.”
They stepped into the empty elevator. As soon as the door closed, Roxy threw her arms around Peter and kissed him.
“There,” she said when they parted. “Did you see that coming?”
“No.” He leaned toward her again, but the elevator stopped at another floor and two middle-aged men in dark suits got on.
Roxy touched Peter’s lips with her index finger and whispered, “Your lips are red.”
One of the men glanced over his shoulder. Peter rubbed his mouth with the back of his left hand. Roxy grabbed his hand and pointed at a red streak.
“See, there’s my lipstick,” she said in a louder voice.
Both of the men turned around and stared at them.
“It happens all the time,” Roxy said to them with a sweet smile.
The door opened and the men got off. Roxy and Peter held back a second, then quickly stepped off.
“Do you think they’ll report us to the building security guard?” Roxy asked.
“What has gotten into you?” Peter asked. “I like it, but it’s, uh, different.”
“It’s your fault,” Roxy sniffed. “You kidnapped me.” She intertwined her fingers with his as they walked toward the parking deck. “Where are you taking me anyway?”
“A picnic. I wasn’t sure how much time you’d have, so I picked up some food on the way over. I thought we could go to the park on the other side of Roswell Road.”
They got into Peter’s car and arrived at the park in a few minutes. The central feature of the area was a large playground set, deserted at the moment because the neighborhood children were in school. The only competitors Roxy and Peter had for the space were a few mothers with small children in strollers. He led the way to a quiet spot beneath a large maple tree and spread out a blue ground cloth.
“Where did this come from?” Roxy asked.
“A holdover from my camping days, but I threw it in the washer yesterday. It’s clean.”
It was a sunny day with a few scattered clouds that decorated the ground in splotchy shade. Peter had packed their lunch in a plastic laundry basket. It was a man’s picnic, with plain paper plates and thin white napkins. The food was a loaf of artisan bread, a pack of smoked turkey from the grocery store deli, a broad sampling of condiments, and low-sodium potato chips. There was a large bottle of mineral water from a limestone well in Vermont.
“I thought we could make our own sandwiches,” he said in an apologetic tone of voice.
“This is great,” Roxy said as she stretched her legs out in front of her. “Let me fix your sandwich for you.”
Roxy asked Peter questions and carefully constructed his sandwich. It was a simple domestic act dropped unexpectedly into the middle of what had been a typical day of intense legal analysis.
“You know what I did last night while I sat on my patio relaxing after supper?” she asked after she handed him the sandwich and picked up a piece of bread for herself.
“No,” he said as he chewed his first bite.
“I told God I was thankful for you. It popped out without me thinking about it.”
“That’s neat,” Peter said as he swallowed his food. “I’d like things like that to be more and more a part of our relationship.”
Roxy laid several thinly sliced pieces of turkey on the bread. “Along with what happened in the elevator?” she asked.
“Oh yeah.” Peter leaned forward, but Roxy pushed him away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You have yellow mustard on your mouth,” she replied. “I like brown.”
Roxy’s phone, which was lying on the ground cloth beside the laundry basket, vibrated.
“I hope that’s not from Mr. Caldweller,” she said as she picked it up. A text message came through, and as Roxy read it her face grew pale.
“What is it?” Peter asked.
“It’s from Ray.”
Peter, who was reclining on his side, sat up straight. Roxy placed the piece of bread in her hand on a plate.
“And I’ve lost my appetite,” she said.
THIRTY
It had been months since Corbin opened the door to the vacant office he’d occupied when he first came to work for Colonel Parker. It was on the other side of the reception area from Janelle’s desk. Fortunately the cleaning crew kept the floor vacuumed and the furniture dusted.
Corbin ran his fingers along the edge of the desk where he’d written his closing argument in the million-dollar case against the logging company. He needed something positive to think about after his most recent experience at the courthouse.
Walking down the hallway, Corbin had approached two lawyers who saw him and stopped talking until he passed. Upstairs, Judge Perry’s secretary didn’t make eye contact with him while he waited to meet with the judge. The lawyer on the other side of the case, a friendly fellow from another town who didn’t follow the local legal gossip, chatted with Corbin about a mutual acquaintance until the judge called them into his chambers.
Judge Perry was even more distant and condescending than usual and took under advisement a motion that should have resulted in an immediate ruling in Corbin’s favor. Corbin could tell the other lawyer was surprised by the judge’s reluctance.
After leaving the courthouse, Corbin caught a cab to the jail to see if he could get his truck. He knew the deputy on duty at the impoundment lot.
“We’re supposed to wait twenty-four hours,” the young man said when Corbin made his request.
“I just argued a case in front of Judge Perry. I’m sober and you’re not legally required to keep a vehicle if the owner is able to operate it.”
The deputy eyed him carefully.
“I’m going to my office,” Corbin continued. “How far is that? Two miles?”
“Okay, Mr. Gage. But please don’t do anything that will get me chewed out later.”
Corbin held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”
Driving to the office, Corbin felt slightly shaky. He couldn’t decide if it was due to fatigue or residual problems from the previous night’s binge. After talking to Janelle about what Ray would need to get up and running, he closed his eyes for a few minutes.
A House Divided Page 21
