Gray Mountain: A Novel(54)

“I’ve already done that.”

Annette actually smiled. “What did he say?”

“I explained that he cannot fire an employee simply because of a garnishment order. I have no idea if this is accurate, but I made it sound authentic. It worried him and we’re supposed to chat again this afternoon.”

“It’s not accurate but it’s a nice bluff, which is often more important than whatever the law says. The lawsuit will be against the collection company, if in fact they are pinching her paychecks from an expired judgment.”

“Thanks,” Samantha said, taking a deep breath. “But we have more pressing matters. They are in there and they have no place to go.”

“I suggest you spend the next few hours taking care of the basics—food, laundry, a place to sleep. The kids are obviously not in school; worry about that tomorrow. We have a slush fund to cover some expenses.”

“Did you say laundry?”

“I did. Who said legal aid work was all glamour?”


The morning’s second crisis erupted minutes later when Phoebe Fanning arrived unannounced with her husband, Randy, and informed Annette she was dropping her divorce. They had reconciled, so to speak, and she and the kids were back home, where things had settled down. Annette was furious and called Samantha into her office to witness the meeting.

Randy Fanning had been out of jail for three days and was only slightly more presentable absent the orange county jumpsuit. He sat with a smirk and kept one hand on Phoebe’s arm as she tried her best to explain her change of plans. She loved him, plain and simple, couldn’t survive without him, and their three children were much happier with their parents together. She was tired of hiding in a motel and the kids were tired of hiding with relatives, and everyone had made peace.

Annette reminded Phoebe that she had been beaten by her husband, who glared across the table as if he might erupt any moment. Annette seemed fearless while Samantha tried to hide in a corner. It had been a fight, Phoebe explained, not exactly a fair one but a fight nonetheless. They had been arguing too much, things got carried away; it’ll never happen again. Randy, who preferred to say nothing, chimed in and confirmed that, yes, they had promised to stop the fighting.

Annette listened to him without believing a word. She reminded him that he was violating the terms of the temporary restraining order as he sat there. If the judge found out he’d go back to jail. He said, Hump, his lawyer, had promised to get the order dismissed without a hassle.

There were traces of dark bluish color still visible on the side of Phoebe’s face from the last fight. Divorce was one matter; the criminal charges were another. Annette got to the serious part when she asked if they had spoken to the prosecutor about dropping the malicious wounding. Not yet, but they planned to do that as soon as the divorce was dismissed. Annette explained that it wouldn’t be automatic. The police had a statement from the victim; they had photographs, other witnesses. This seemed a bit confusing, and even Samantha wasn’t so sure. If the victim and star witness folds, how do you pursue the case?

The two lawyers had the same thought: Did he beat her again to coerce her to drop everything?

Annette was irritated and hammered away with tough questions, but neither backed down. They were determined to forget their troubles and move on to a happier life. When it was time for the meeting to end, Annette flipped through the file and estimated that she had spent twenty hours on the divorce. At no charge, of course.

Next time, find another lawyer.

After they left, Annette described them as a couple of meth addicts who were obviously unstable and probably needed each other. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill her,” she said.


As the morning dragged on, it became clear that the Booker family had no plans to leave. Nor were they asked to; just the opposite. The staff embraced them and checked on them every few minutes. At one point Barb whispered to Samantha, “We’ve actually had clients sleep here for a couple of nights. Not ideal, but sometimes there’s no choice.”

With a roll of quarters, Pamela left to find the Laundromat. Mandy and Trevor stayed in the conference room, coloring with crayons and reading, occasionally giggling at something between them. Samantha worked at the other end of the table, digging through statutes and cases.

At 11:00 a.m. sharp, Mrs. Francine Crump arrived for what was scheduled to be a brief will signing. Samantha had prepared the document. Mattie had reviewed it. The little ceremony should take less than ten minutes, and Francine would leave with a proper last will and testament for which she would pay nothing. Instead, it became the third crisis of the morning.

As instructed, Samantha had drafted a will that left Francine’s eighty acres to her neighbors, Hank and Jolene Mott. Francine’s five adult children would get nothing, and this would inevitably lead to trouble down the road. Doesn’t matter, Mattie had said. It’s her land, clear and unencumbered, and she can dispose of it any way she wants. We’ll deal with the trouble later. No, we are not required to notify the five children that they are being cut out. They’ll learn of this after the funeral.

Or would they? As Samantha closed the door to her office and pulled out the file, Francine began crying. Dabbing her cheeks with a tissue, she unloaded her story. Three in a row, all crying, Samantha thought.

Over the weekend, Hank and Jolene Mott had finally told her a horrible secret: they had decided to sell their hundred acres to a coal company and move to Florida where they had grandkids. They didn’t want to sell, of course, but they were getting old—hell, they were already old and being old was no excuse to sell and run, lots of old people hang on to their land around here—but anyway they needed the money for retirement and medical bills. Francine was furious with her longtime neighbors and still couldn’t believe it. Not only had she lost her friends, she’d also lost the two people she trusted to protect her own land. And the worst was yet to come: a strip mine was being planned for next door! Folks all up and down Jacob’s Holler were angry, but that’s what the coal companies do to you. They turn neighbor against neighbor, brother against sister.