Gray Mountain: A Novel(55)

Rumor was the Motts were leaving as soon as possible. Running like chickens, according to Francine. Good riddance.

Samantha was patient, in fact she had been patient all morning as the office tissue supply dwindled, but she slowly realized that her first last will and testament was headed for the wastebasket. She managed to bring Francine around to the obvious question: If not the Motts, then who gets the land? Francine didn’t know what to do. That’s why she was talking to a lawyer.


The Monday brown-bag lunch in the main conference room was modified somewhat to include Mandy and Trevor Booker. Though the two children had been eating all morning, they were still hungry enough to split a sandwich with the staff. Their mother was doing laundry and they had no place to go. The conversation was light, church gossip and the weather, suitable topics for young ears and far from the raunchy topics Samantha had heard the week before. It was quite dull and the lunch was over in twenty minutes.

Samantha needed some advice and didn’t want to bother with Annette. She asked Mattie for a moment or two, and closed the door to her office. She handed over some paperwork and said proudly, “This is my first lawsuit.”

Mattie smiled and took it gingerly. “Well, well, congratulations. It’s about time. Sit down and I’ll read it.”

The defendant was Top Market Solutions, a dodgy outfit out of Norfolk, Virginia, with offices in several southern states. Numerous phone calls had yielded little information about the company, but Samantha had all she needed to fire the first shot. The more she researched the clearer the issues became. Annette was right—the judgment expired seven years after it was entered, and had not been reenrolled. The credit card company sold the invalid judgment to Top Market at a deep discount. Top Market in turn took the judgment, reenrolled it in Hopper County, and began using the legal system to collect the money. One available tool was the garnishing of paychecks.

“Short and sweet,” Mattie said when she finished. “And you’re sure of the facts?”

“Yes, it’s not that complicated, really.”

“You can always amend it later. I like it. You feel like a real lawyer now?”

“I do. I’ve never thought about it before. I type up a lawsuit, alleging anything I choose, file it, serve notice on the defendant, who has no choice but to answer in court, and we either settle the dispute or go to trial.”

“Welcome to America. You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m thinking about filing it this afternoon. They are homeless, you know. The sooner the better.”

“Fire away,” Mattie said, handing the lawsuit over. “I would also e-mail a copy to the defendant and put them on notice.”

“Thanks. I’ll polish it up and head for the courthouse.”

At 3:00 p.m., Mr. Simmons at the lamp factory was much less pleasant than he’d been during their first chat. He said he’d checked with his lawyer, who assured him that terminating an employee over a garnishment order was not illegal within the Commonwealth of Virginia, contrary to what Ms. Kofer had said that morning. “Don’t you know the law?” he asked.

“I understand it very well,” she said, eager to get off the phone. “I guess we’ll just see you in court.” With one lawsuit prepped and ready to go, she couldn’t help but feel a bit trigger-happy.

“I’ve been sued by better lawyers,” Mr. Simmons said and hung up.

The Bookers finally left. They followed Samantha to a motel on the east side of town, one of two in Brady. The entire staff had weighed in on which was less offensive, and the Starlight won by a narrow margin. It was a throwback to the 1950s with tiny rooms and doors that opened onto the parking lot. Samantha had spoken with the owner twice, had been promised two adjoining rooms that were clean, with televisions, and had negotiated a reduced rate of $25 a night per room. Mattie liked to describe it as a hot-sheets joint, but there was no evidence of illicit behavior, at least not at 3:30 on a Monday afternoon. The other eighteen rooms appeared to be empty. Pamela’s clean laundry was folded neatly into grocery bags. As they unloaded the car, Samantha realized that the little family was taking a big step back up the ladder. Mandy and Trevor were excited about staying in a motel, even had their own room. Pamela had a spring in her step and a big smile. She hugged Samantha fiercely and said thanks for the umpteenth time. As she drove away, all three were standing beside the car, waving.

After an hour of twisting through the mountains and dodging a few coal trucks, Samantha arrived on Center Street in Colton a quarter before five. She filed the Booker lawsuit against Top Market Solutions, paid the filing fee with a check drawn on the clinic, and filled out the paperwork to execute service of process on the defendant, and when everything was tidied up she left the clerk’s office quite proud that her first lawsuit was now on the books.

She hurried down to the courtroom, hoping the trial had not been recessed for the day. Far from it; the courtroom was half-filled and stuffy, with a layer of tension you could feel as scowling men in dark suits gazed upon the seven people sitting in the jury box. Jury selection was winding down; Donovan had hoped to complete it the first day.

He sat next to Lisa Tate, mother of the two boys. They were alone at the plaintiff’s table, which was next to the jury box. On the other side of the courtroom, at the defense table, a small army of black suits swarmed around, all with hard, unpleasant looks, as if they had been outflanked in the initial phase of the trial.