Having caused this problem, I wasn't going to abandon Zach and sit on the sidelines.
"The tutorial system was the preferred method for educating European royalty for hundreds of years," I said. "And several modern studies have proven it works well today, even if the parents aren't college educated."
Mr. Appleby spoke. "My brother and I had a private tutor when our family lived in Nigeria. My mother taught grammar and literature; the tutor handled math and science. I've always thought those were the best years of my education. I was way ahead of my peers when we moved back to Baltimore."
I saw Conrad turn in his chair and begin talking to the person next to him.
"Tell me more about your educational background," Mr. Appleby said to me.
I started to give a two-sentence answer, then remembered Zach's advice about taking the opportunity to talk when asked a question by one of the partners.
"I'd be glad to."
It was an easy subject. I'd defended homeschooling against all comers for years. Mr. Appleby asked several insightful questions, and I talked steadily through the salad course up to arrival of our entree, a seafood dish as rich as anything I'd ever eaten. Once, I looked at Zach and silently offered to pass the ball to him, but he gave a slight shake of his head. This was my chance to impress Mr. Appleby. So, I continued talking.
"And do you believe this type of education makes you a better law student?" Mr. Appleby asked.
"Yes sir. I didn't wait until law school to learn how to analyze an issue and evaluate possible solutions."
Mr. Appleby turned his attention to Zach, and they began to discuss a case involving a Norwegian shipping company. I couldn't follow the unfamiliar admiralty terms. Learning the law of Georgia was challenging enough; the prospect of applying U.S., Norwegian, and international law to a legal problem was overwhelming. As a waiter took away our plates, Mr. Appleby looked at his watch.
"It will be too late to call Oslo when we get back to the office," he said. "Send Bergen an e-mail outlining our position so he can read it in the morning. If he wants to continue to do business with our client in the port of Savannah, there will have to be concessions on the container surcharge and agreement on the arbitration language."
Dessert was a custard dish that dissolved on my tongue and sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to ask for the recipe so I could make it for my family, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Julie didn't seem to have that problem. I could hear her laughing loudly at the other end of the table.
Mr. Carpenter stood and tapped his glass again. The room became quiet.
"I hope you've enjoyed this luncheon. Every time we do this, it makes me wish we spent more time together as a firm."
I heard Conrad clear his throat. Mr. Carpenter continued.
"We don't have any prizes to give away, but there is a drawing of sorts for our summer clerks."
I sat up straighter.
"Judge Cannon has agreed to allow our summer clerks to handle minor misdemeanor cases under appropriate supervision. These are pro bono matters. The clerks won't be providing as important a contribution to the community as Vince did with his Eagle Scout project, but every citizen of the land deserves legal representation. Ms. Taylor picked up an order authorizing this work at the courthouse this morning. The judge is authorizing the firm to delegate the cases; however, I think it would be appropriate for the clerks to have a hand in the selection process."
He paused. I suspected his last comment was meant to be a play on words, but no one laughed. He held up three folders.
"Each of these folders contains a brief description of a case and an order from Judge Cannon specially authorizing you to make an appearance on behalf of the defendant."
One of the younger lawyers called out, "When I was a summer clerk I had to represent a man caught playing video poker!"
Mr. Carpenter spoke. "And as I recall you gambled with his future, and he spent ninety days in jail."
"Bob lost a hundred dollars playing the machines while investigating that case," another lawyer said.
"If our clerks will step forward," Mr. Carpenter said, "I'll let them choose their fate."
Julie stood beside Mr. Carpenter. Vince and I joined her. Mr. Carpenter held out the three folders.
"Ms. Feldman," he said.
Julie chose the one in the middle and opened it.
"State v. Ferguson," she said. "I think he's charged with impersonating a public official-a water-meter reader."
"Say that fast three times in front of the judge," one of the lawyers said.
"Why would someone do that?" Julie asked Mr. Carpenter.
"Allegedly," Mr. Carpenter corrected. "Meet with your client and investigate the facts; then we'll talk about a theory of the case." The sen for partner pointed to the lawyer named Ned. "Mr. Danforth, I want you to supervise Ms. Feldman's efforts on behalf of the defendant."
"Can we do it on my boat?" the lawyer asked.
"Not without appropriate adult supervision," another lawyer responded.
The flirting banter in the room made me uncomfortable. I glanced at Julie, who didn't seem upset by the innuendos. Mr. Carpenter turned to Vince.
"Your turn."
Vince selected the file on the left and opened it.
"State v. Brown," he said. "Operation of a motor vehicle at excessive speed while racing and improper muffler."
"A racer!" one of the lawyers called out. "Where was he arrested?"
"At 10746 Abercorn Street."
"That's near the new mall," the lawyer replied. "He and his buddies were probably dragging between stoplights."
Mr. Carpenter spoke. "Russell, since you're such an expert on street racing in Chatham County, I want you to work with Vince."
"Do I get to drive his BMW?" the lawyer asked.
"Only with proper adult supervision," Mr. Carpenter replied.
Several people laughed. Mr. Carpenter looked at me.
"That leaves you, Ms. Taylor."
"Without a choice or a chance!" one lawyer called out.
I took the file from the managing partner and opened it. There were multiple sheets of paper filled with charges. The number of counts was overwhelming. At first, I suspected that I'd gotten some kind of serial criminal by mistake. But as I read the charges, I realized each count was identical except as to location of the offense.
"State v. Jones," I said, quickly turning the pages until I reached the final one. "Twenty-four counts of trespassing. Mr. Jones illegally tied up his boat for the night at twenty-four private docks."
"Allegedly," Mr. Carpenter said. "Not necessarily illegally."
"Yes sir," I replied, although it seemed hard to imagine twentyfour instances of honest mistake or sudden emergency.
"Who would be a suitable mentor?" Mr. Carpenter asked as he looked around the room. No one raised his hand. I glanced at Zach, whose eyes were lowered like a schoolboy trying to avoid the teacher's gaze.
"Sounds like a first cousin to an admiralty case," Mr. Carpenter said. "A lower-level type of piracy on the high seas. Mr. Mays, I want you to help Ms. Taylor."
Zach raised his head, and I studied his reaction. He had a fixed expression that appeared to be a cross between a forced smile and a grimace. I returned to my seat. General conversation resumed in the room.
"Thanks for helping," I said to Zach.
"I'm a man under authority," he replied.
Mr. Appleby left the table. I leaned forward. "Are you upset with me for mentioning your homeschool background?" I asked in a whisper. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."
Zach shook his head. "No, there's just a lot of pressure with my workload. I didn't need another project on my desk."
"I'm sorry. I won't ask for much help."
I left the table and went to the restroom. No one else was there. I stood in front of the mirror. Challenges surfaced by the minute at the law firm. I wasn't convinced that I hadn't embarrassed Zach Mays. I washed my hands and lightly touched a
wet paper towel to my cheeks and forehead.
When I returned to the dining room, everyone was getting ready to leave. Zach and Mr. Appleby were near the door. I started to go to them, but heard Julie call my name.
"Tami!"
I turned around as she came up to me.
"Your case sounds like a lot of work," she said. "Do you think you'll have to interview the owners of every dock where your client tied up his boat?"
"I haven't thought about it," I replied.
"I'd subpoena every one of them," Julie said. "Rich folks don't want to show up in court, and if they don't testify it will knock out a count."
I held up the folder in my hand. "I suspect at least a few of these people would make an appearance, and the punishment for two counts probably wouldn't be much different than for twentyfour."
"But you may be able to wear down the prosecutor and get your client a good deal."
I wasn't interested in a strategy session, but when I looked back to the door Mr. Appleby and Zach were gone.
"Ned says we may raise a Halloween defense for my client," Julie continued. "We could claim he was delusional and believed every day is Halloween. The water-meter outfit was his costume of the day."
"You haven't talked to the client yet."
Julie laughed. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't ask him to lie, but Ned has a great sense of humor. This firm isn't nearly as stuffy as I thought it would be."
Several more lawyers came over and introduced themselves. Julie received most of the attention.
"Is there a firm directory?" Julie asked as the crowd thinned. "I won't be able to remember everyone's name."
Vince patted his laptop. "I have that information in a file."
Julie put her arm in his. "We've only been here half a day, and already I don't know what I'd do without you."
Ms. Patrick joined us. "That went nicely," she said. "I'm glad you were all able to be here."
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
On the return trip to the office, Julie talked nonstop from the backseat while Vince and I sat in silence. She repeated several stories told by the lawyers at her table.
"Did you hear anything interesting?" she asked as we pulled into the firm parking lot.
"Just a few comments from Mr. Braddock about the project I'm working on," Vince said. "Nothing that would interest you."
"Tami?" Julie asked.
"Mr. Appleby wanted to talk about homeschool education," I said as Vince parked the car.
"Yeah, it took courage to mention that," Julie said. "It was way outside the box. What was his reaction?"
"Positive. His family had a private tutor when he lived in Africa as a boy."
"Cool."
Julie got out of the car and walked rapidly toward the office. Vince lagged behind, and out of courtesy I stayed with him.
"Did you have offers from other law firms?" he asked as we walked across the parking lot.
"No, I was surprised when I got the letter from Mr. Carpenter."
"What were you going to do?"
"Work as an eviscerator in a chicken plant."
"Cutting open the chickens?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"The Latin root of the word."
I laughed. "Do you type in Latin?"
Vince smiled slightly. "No, but I'd like to learn more about homeschooling from someone who went through it and became academically successful."
"Why?"
We reached the front of the office. He opened the door for me.
"I like to learn, especially from a person with strong convictions. Maybe we could go to lunch?"
"I'm sure they will have other events on the schedule."
We reached the hallway. Vince turned toward Mr. Braddock's office suite.
"Thanks for the ride," I said.
"You're welcome."
I stopped by Mr. Carpenter's office. His secretary had made copies of the documents in the Folsom divorce file. Even at this early stage of the proceedings, it was thick enough to require a large, expandable folder. Carrying it with both hands, I returned to the library. Julie glanced up when I entered.
"Did Vince ask you out?" she asked.
13
I GAVE HER A STARTLED LOOK.
"Don't act so innocent," she responded. "Anyone with half a brain could tell he was interested in you."
"How?"
"Did he ask you out?" she repeated.
"He mentioned lunch, but I didn't commit."
"Yeah." Julie nodded with satisfaction. "He's nerdy but nice, and tall enough for you. The chemistry is explosive when two loners get together. I wondered about the scar on his hand. Do you think his whole body is scarred? Usually something like that is the result of a childhood burn. It may explain why he didn't play any sports."
"I'll let you ask him personal questions."
"Oh, he'll tell you when he's ready. Guys like him are waiting for a sympathetic ear to pour out their innermost thoughts and feelings."
"How can you be so sure?"
Julie sniffed. "My family spends a lot of time psychoanalyzing our relatives and friends. All the best psychiatrists are Jewish. It's part of our cultural DNA. Some study Freud and get a fancy diploma and charge hundreds of dollars an hour for what the rest of us do for free."
"Then why aren't you in medical school?"
"Organic chemistry, and I'm more of a talker than a listener. At least once a week, I want you to tell me to shut up."
"I don't tell people to shut up."
"You will if you want to help me become a better person. Plus, I'm bound to get on your nerves. We'll both need to regularly vent and clear the air." Julie pointed at the folder in my hand. "That looks heavy. Drop it on the table and let's see what's going on in the dirty corners of the Folsom household."
We spent the rest of the afternoon dividing our time between Julie's project and mine. The selfishness and sin that had brought the Folsom family to the place of breakup was depressing. I focused on the financial data. Julie read the file like it was a cheap romance novel.
"I can't believe what he did to her ownership in this company," I said as I reviewed the minutes from a corporate meeting. "He bought back her shares at a fraction of their fair market value."
"Shares that he gave her in the first place," Julie responded. "Folsom transferred the stock to his wife so she could put it up for collateral against a construction loan for the North Carolina mountain house titled in her name. Then, he let his mother-in-law stay in the house every summer for five years. Mr. Folsom is a prince who should be protected from his gold-digging wife."
A few minutes later I handed Julie a memo attached to a financial statement. "A wicked prince with a harem. He's paying five thousand dollars a month in child support for a little boy his wife doesn't know about."
Julie read the memo. "What a jerk! I guess it's better than dodging his responsibilities, but I'm not sure how Mr. Carpenter intends to camouflage those payments. The accountant labeled it `Miscellaneous Benevolence,' but that won't get Folsom through a deposition."
Mid-afternoon we switched to Julie's project. After an hour of online research, I helped her draft a memo about the competing parties' interests in the collateral. I located a Georgia Court of Appeals decision that really helped our position. No one else came into the library. Late in the day, Julie stood up and stretched.
"This is a good place to take a nap."
"Shut up and get back to work," I said from my place at the worktable.
Julie looked surprised.
"I wanted to get it out of the way," I said with a smile. "It's been hanging over me all afternoon."
Julie shook her finger at me. "That's not the way it works. It has to be said with feeling in the right context. I won't cater to your Protestant guilt trip."
"I've never told anyone to shut up in my life."
"There's a lot you've probably never done. This summer is going to be a space trip into the unknown."
I sat bac
k in my chair. "Can I ask you something serious?"
"Yes, but only because you found the Paxton case."
I waited. Julie sat down across from me.
"Okay," she said. "I'm listening."
I put my hands against the edge of the table. "People are always trying to pressure me to do things that violate my Christian beliefs. When that happens it creates stress and awkwardness. Problems build my character, but I'd like to be able to relax around you and not have to defend myself all the time. Would you let me be who I am without trying to change me?"
Julie was silent for a moment. "Would you let me be who I am without trying to change me?"
I was caught. It was my privilege and duty to tell Julie about Jesus. My inner conflict couldn't be hidden from my face. Julie continued.
"Several Christians have tried to prove to me that Jesus is the Messiah and get me to pray to him. But it never made much sense to me. Jews don't try to convince everyone to agree with them. We rarely agree ourselves. It's the way life is lived, not the words spoken, that is important."
"That last part is the truth," I said.
"Okay. Do we have a deal? Neither of us tries to change the other."
I thought about my parents and what they would say. "No. I can't do that."
Julie stared at me for a second, then reached across the table and patted my hand. "Good. We'll have more fun if nothing is off-limits. I'll try to corrupt you, and you can try to convert me."
Ms. Patrick came into the library. "Mr. Carpenter left the office for a meeting earlier this afternoon and asked me to check on you at the end of the day."
Julie told her what we'd done, giving me extensive credit for helping her.
"That's good," Ms. Patrick replied. "I told Mr. Carpenter you were working together, and he gave his permission. However, the lawyers will also want to see how you handle assignments on your own." She looked at her watch. "You can leave anytime after five o'clock. It's five thirty now, so be on your way."
"Can we leave our work in here?" I asked.
"Yes. We're in the process of creating a cubicle space for both of you on the second floor if you want it, but this is a better research environment."
Deeper Water Page 15
