A Time to Stand

by Robert Whitlow

  SEVEN

  “GOOD MORNING,” CATHERINE said when she saw Adisa in the hallway. “How’s your aunt?”

  “Serious but stable. My sister is driving up to check on her later today. I came back to complete the memo in the Sipco matter. I should have it to you by noon if that’s okay.”

  “Good, and I had a message on my voice mail from a reporter at the AJC about the Larimore case. Were you interviewed?”

  “On the way back from the courthouse. I couldn’t believe how fast the news leaked out.”

  “What did she ask you?”

  Adisa attempted to reconstruct the conversation, but Aunt Josie’s health crisis had pushed the details from the edge of her memory.

  “It sounds like Ms. Rogers has a liberal bent,” Catherine said.

  “Maybe,” Adisa answered. “She bounced all over the place with questions that didn’t seem to have a sequential structure.”

  “Everybody’s thoughts aren’t as organized as yours,” Catherine said with a smile. “I won’t have time to call her back until later today or tomorrow.”

  Adisa went into her office. Before diving into work, she checked her computer. No e-mail from Sharon Rogers was in her queue. Ten minutes later, Adisa’s phone buzzed.

  “You’re needed in conference room G for a meeting with Mr. Katner,” said one of the administrative assistants who worked in their section.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, all the lawyers and staff on Catherine’s team are required to be there.”

  Holding a gathering of every lawyer in the subgroup wasn’t unusual, but doing so without circulating an agenda in advance was odd, especially if Linwood Katner called the meeting. Other colleagues were making their way to the largest conference room on the floor. Katner was sitting at the head of the table with Catherine to his right. Adisa immediately suspected the meeting had to do with breaking the news about the massive new merger Catherine had mentioned the previous day.

  There was a minimal amount of small talk as everyone took their seats around the table. The managing partner’s salt-and-pepper hair was carefully combed to the side. Dark eyes that never missed a detail peered out from beneath bushy eyebrows. Adisa glanced at Catherine, who looked puzzled.

  “I have news,” Katner began without any preamble. “The firm has decided to shut down the Atlanta merger and acquisition group and transfer all its responsibilities to the Boston office. Some of you will be offered positions in Boston. The rest will receive a severance package.”

  Several people involuntarily gasped. Adisa glanced at Catherine, who was clearly as shocked as anyone else in the room. Katner slid a thick envelope across the table to Catherine.

  “Ms. Summey will inform you about your status by the end of the day. I’ve set the schedule for your individual meetings, which will begin in this room at ten thirty. Until then, please return to work. That’s all.”

  Katner left the room. With apprehensive glances at their coworkers, the men and women around the table slowly pushed back their chairs to stand and began to file out.

  “Adisa,” Catherine said. “You’re at the top of the list. I’ll see you at ten thirty.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adisa replied as the people who remained in the room stared at her.

  She knew what they were thinking: Was it a good thing or a bad thing to be up first? Adisa numbly made her way back to her office, not sure if she should, or could, work on the memo in the Sipco case during the hour and a half until her time to return to the conference room. Knowing the professional thing to do was to finish well regardless of her fate, she turned on her computer and pulled up the documents she needed to analyze. Over the next ninety minutes, she didn’t do the best work of her career, but she did the best she could. Then, after a quick trip to the restroom to check her appearance, Adisa sent up a simple prayer entrusting her future into God’s hands and returned to the conference room. Catherine now sat at the head of the table with the director of human resources on her left. Grim-faced, Catherine motioned for Adisa to sit down.

  “This has been a rough hour and a half that’s about to get worse,” Catherine said. “What have you been doing?”

  “I finished the Sipco memo and sent it to you a couple of minutes ago,” Adisa said. “It’s bare-bones because I didn’t have time to flesh it out, but I believe you’ll have the gist of what we need to request so that—”

  “You’ll be able to prepare a more detailed memo if I need it,” Catherine said. “You’re on the list for the move.”

  “I am?” Adisa asked, suddenly realizing that based on her history with Mr. Katner, she had assumed she’d be fired.

  “Yes. The firm will buy out the lease on your apartment in Atlanta, and a relocation service will assist you in finding a place in Boston. It’s more expensive to live there, so there will be an increase in your salary to avoid a de facto pay cut. All your moving expenses will be paid as well. You’ll remain a part of my team, but how we’ll interface with lawyers higher up the ladder than I am will be worked out later. I believe this will ultimately be good for you. You’re a rising star, and the heads of the firm will have a better chance to see what you bring to the table. Any questions?”

  “Will Mr. Katner be making the move to Boston?”

  “No,” Catherine replied in a way that let Adisa know not to ask a follow-up question.

  “How soon will this happen?”

  “I should have told you that up front.” Catherine paused and rubbed her temples with her fingers. “I’m still trying to get my head around this decision myself. We want you up and running within sixty days. Our first project will be the merger I mentioned yesterday. I thought it was going to be a boon for us here, but it turns out—” Catherine stopped and turned to the HR director. “Tom, anything else I should add?”

  Tom Mann was a prematurely balding man in his midthirties. He’d hired and fired so many people during his tenure at the law firm that Adisa suspected he’d grown numb to the emotions of the process.

  “You’ll receive a packet of paperwork within a few days,” he said. “Read and sign. There isn’t any flexibility in the terms.”

  “Okay.”

  “Congratulations,” Catherine said with a weak smile.

  Leaving the conference room, Adisa felt the eyes of everyone she passed seeking clues to her fate. Over the next couple of hours the other employees and attorneys on the list made their way to the conference room. News trickled out. A clerical assistant who frequently worked with Adisa was going to stay in Atlanta and move to the thirty-seventh floor. She came into Adisa’s office to tell her the news. Lucy was a couple of years younger than Adisa.

  “I hope I don’t have to work for Mr. Katner,” Lucy said in a whisper. “I’ve heard he’s a bear in the morning and a tiger in the afternoon.”

  “I doubt they’ll assign anyone to him with less than ten years’ experience,” Adisa replied reassuringly.

  “I hope you’re right. I knew they wouldn’t let you go. Everyone knows you’re Catherine’s favorite.”

  “She’s been great to me,” Adisa admitted. “But I’m not sure how much influence she had in the process. Though she met with Mr. Katner yesterday afternoon, he apparently didn’t give her any idea what was coming.”

  “Wow!” Lucy’s eyes widened. “Even the people who look like big shots to me don’t always know what’s going on.”

  “But don’t repeat that to anyone,” Adisa responded, alarmed that she’d let down her guard for a moment and revealed a speculative opinion about upper-level management. “Just keep working the way you have for the past eighteen months, and you’ll be fine.”

  “It’s been easy because you’re so sweet,” Lucy replied. “I won’t be able to handle someone who yells and screams. It will make me think about my stepfather and what he put me through when I was a teenager.”

  The phone on Adisa’s desk buzzed, which ended the conversation before any more unpleasant details about the assistant’s upb
ringing came out. Lucy left and Adisa picked up the phone.

  “Sharon Rogers from the AJC is calling. Do you want to talk to her?”

  Adisa hesitated. She had nothing to add to the previous interview and didn’t want to give Ms. Rogers another chance to try to twist her words. Besides, she needed to get to work.

  “Connect her to my voice mail,” she said. “And hold my calls, please.”

  For the next three hours, Adisa revised her memo in the Sipco matter. She found several additional troubling issues, which made her glad for a chance to update what Catherine would rely on. She didn’t stop for lunch but took a quick break to eat an apple at her desk. Her phone buzzed.

  “Your sister is calling,” the receptionist continued. “Do you want to send her to voice mail, too?”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  Adisa closed the door of her office before returning to her chair. “Are you on your way to Campbellton?” Adisa asked.

  “No, I’ve been here for over an hour. I’ve talked to Dr. Dewberry and Aunt Josie.”

  “You’ve talked with Aunt Josie?”

  “Not a lot, but she recognized me when I came into the room. The first words out of her mouth were that she wanted to go home.”

  Adisa had trouble connecting her last image of her aunt with the picture painted by her sister. “Sounds like she’s had a miraculous recovery.”

  “Not really. Dr. Dewberry said it’s hard to predict how quickly and to what extent someone will recover from this type of stroke. He’s very pleased with her progress but cautioned that she could easily relapse.”

  “Is she still in the quarantine area?”

  “No, they moved her shortly after I arrived. I think that may have helped wake her up. She’s still having trouble swallowing, so she’s on a liquid diet and someone has to assist her with eating.”

  Adisa listened as Shanika described feeding their aunt applesauce and broth for breakfast.

  “The social worker came by a few minutes ago and talked about placement for Aunt Josie in a skilled nursing facility,” Shanika continued.

  “I knew that was in the works, just not this soon.”

  “It won’t happen for several days. Only one facility in Campbellton offers that type of care, and there’s a waiting list to get in.”

  Adisa had assumed there would be a seamless transition to a skilled nursing facility.

  “How long is the waiting list?”

  “I’m not sure.” Shanika paused. “But we may have to look for a place in Atlanta. The social worker said there are always beds in the metro area. I know we’d want to find one as close to you as possible—”

  “That’s not an option. What about a place near you and Ronnie?”

  “The choices are worse than in Campbellton. Don’t you remember how much trouble we had finding a place for Ronnie’s grandfather? It makes much more sense for her to be close to you, even if you only drop by to see her on your way home from work.”

  Adisa pressed her lips together tightly for a moment before answering. “I’m being transferred to the law firm’s headquarters in Boston,” she replied. “They’re shutting down our group in Atlanta, and over half the staff and several attorneys are losing their jobs. I was one of the lucky ones who made the cut. I just found out this morning. Everyone is still in shock, including me.”

  “You’re moving to Boston?”

  “Yes, and I’m just beginning to wrap my head around it. I’ve never lived someplace cold or that far from family.”

  “Which is what you should think about.” Shanika began to speak rapidly. “This is a terrible time for you to abandon us. Can’t they find another position for you in Atlanta? Your bosses obviously like you or they wouldn’t have offered you the job in Boston. Once you explain your personal situation, I’m sure they’ll work with you. Don’t law firms have to offer you something under the family leave act?”

  Adisa felt like she was being sprayed with a fire hose from five feet away. Her sister’s response triggered several thoughts. Most of Adisa’s energy over the past ten years had been focused on having the chance to practice her legal craft at the highest level. The move to Boston was a huge rung up on the ladder she wanted to climb. However, she didn’t want to make a selfish decision.

  “We don’t have to decide anything about Aunt Josie today,” Adisa replied. “But I can’t drop everything and move to Campbellton.”

  “I know that,” Shanika answered. “I’m just stressed out over what’s going to happen and what we should do. We’re both listed on the health-care power of attorney you wrote up for her last year, right?”

  “I’m first, with you as the alternate if I can’t serve.”

  “Well, if you bail on the situation, you’ll have to turn all decision making over to me.”

  Shanika’s voice cracked, and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Adisa’s stomach felt as queasy as it had when she was waiting her turn to go into conference room G.

  “Let me see how things sort out here,” she said, trying to regain her composure. “How long are you going to stay in Campbellton?”

  “At least a couple of days. Ronnie took vacation time to take care of the kids.”

  “I’ll come up Saturday morning, and we’ll assess the situation then. Okay?”

  “Assess the situation? You make it sound like we’re talking about a leaky roof.”

  “You know what I mean. We’ll talk. I’ll be there early, no later than nine thirty,” Adisa said.

  “Whatever. I can’t make you do anything.”

  The call ended. Adisa stared past the schefflera plant and out the narrow window. The future was much less clear than the view. As frustrating as Shanika could be, she’d raised questions Adisa knew she had to answer.

  EIGHT

  LUKE AND JANE silently watched Ashley sleep in her crib. The tiny bedroom had cream-colored walls that featured hand-painted multicolored balloons. Located at the rear corner of the house, the room had a single window. Luke and Jane’s bedroom was across the hall and had French doors that opened onto a small wooden deck.

  Ashley had the sniffles, and she wrinkled her nose as she breathed. Jane positioned the baby’s thin blanket for the third time so that it was perfectly tucked underneath Ashley’s chin.

  “It won’t stay there,” Luke whispered. “In five minutes she’ll flip to her other side.”

  “And I’ll come back in to check on her and fix it.”

  “She’s going to kick her husband in bed more than you kick me,” Luke replied.

  “Do you want me to bring up your snoring?”

  Ashley began breathing through her mouth with an accompanying raspy sound.

  “It’s cute when she snores,” Luke said.

  “And you like it when she kicks your stomach when you’re playing with her.”

  They left the bedroom and went into the den. Without saying anything to each other, they’d avoided the living room.

  “When will we know if they found any fingerprints on the brick?” Jane asked.

  “Not long, but I’m not expecting anything to show up. Whoever threw it was probably wearing gloves.”

  Jane shook her head. “Do you think we should stay with my mother in Florida for a while?”

  It wasn’t the first time the subject of leaving Campbellton had come up. Luke had previously insisted they shouldn’t move away because it would look like he was admitting guilt. The attack on his family was causing him to reconsider.

  “Maybe,” he replied slowly. “But I’ll still have to come back and face any criminal charges filed against me.”

  “Don’t talk like that, please. I’m praying it won’t happen.”

  Jane’s faith was personal and natural. Luke had attended church every Sunday since the shooting, but he didn’t share Jane’s optimistic perspective that God might keep him from being indicted. That power rested with the DA and the grand jury.

  There was a knock on the front door. Both Luke a
nd Jane jumped. Luke went to the door and peered out the peephole. It was Bruce Alverez.

  “Hey,” Luke said when he opened the door. “I saw your car in the street earlier in the evening. I appreciate you keeping an eye out for me and my family.”

  “Sure,” Bruce replied, glancing beyond Luke to the inside of the house. “Is Jane home?”

  “Yes.”

  “The garage door is closed, so I wasn’t sure both of your vehicles were there.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Maybe. When I turned onto your street there was an older-model maroon car with heavily tinted windows cruising by. The driver saw me and took off.”

  “Why didn’t you stop them?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were safe first.”

  “Right.” Luke relaxed.

  “There’s another thing,” Bruce continued.

  The officer reached into his back pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Luke.

  “This isn’t an arrest warrant, is it?” Luke asked in alarm.

  “No, no. It’s a subpoena for me to appear before the grand jury next week.”

  “To testify about the shooting?”

  “No, a burglary, but I heard a rumor at the station that the DA might bring up your case on the same day. I have to be at Jasper Baldwin’s office on Monday morning for a second interview about the shooting. There’s speculation that the DA may bring in a special prosecutor. That way it would be tougher to claim you received preferential treatment, and it would get the local officials off the hook.”

  Luke still hoped for preferential treatment, but he also knew there were political forces in play. Chief Lockhart had shown him Bruce’s report from the night of the shooting. It was so bare-bones that it didn’t make half a skeleton. Luke knew his fellow officer had provided as little information as possible.

  “I guess it’s time for me to meet with an attorney myself,” Luke said with a sigh. “But it’s tough paying our monthly bills since Jane quit teaching and decided to stay home and take care of the baby.”