Gray Mountain: A Novel(64)

He was smooth without being showy. Sincere, without a hint of anything but sincerity. He had no notes and didn’t need them. Samantha was immediately captivated and would have given him any sum of money he asked for. He was pacing back and forth, very much onstage and fully in command of his script. At one point, though, Mattie startled them with “Objection, you can’t say that.”

Donovan laughed and said, “My apologies, Your Honor. I’ll ask the jurors to disregard what I just said, which of course is impossible and that’s why I said it in the first place.”

“Objection,” Mattie said again.

There were no wasted words, no hyperbole, no flowery quotations from the Bible or Shakespeare, no false emotions, nothing but a carefully nuanced argument in favor of his client, and against an awful company, all delivered effortlessly, spontaneously. He suggested the amount of $1 million per child, and $1 million in punitive damages. Three million total, a large sum to him, and certainly to the jurors, but a drop in the bucket for Strayhorn Coal. Last year, the company’s gross income was $14 million a week.

When he finished, that particular jury was already in his pocket. The real one would not be as easy. As Vic poured more whiskey, Donovan challenged them to pick apart his closing argument. He said he would be up all night revising it. He claimed the whiskey loosened his creative thoughts, and some of his best final summations were the result of a few hours of thoughtful sipping. Mattie argued that $3 million was too much. It might work in larger cities but not in Hopper County, or Noland County for that matter. She reminded him that neither county had ever seen a million-dollar verdict, and he reminded her that there was a first time for everything. And, no one could create a better set of facts, facts he had just clearly and masterfully laid out before the jury.

Back and forth, back and forth. Samantha excused herself and went to the restroom. She poured the whiskey down the drain and hoped she never encountered it again. She said good night, wished Donovan all the luck in the world, and drove to the Starlight Motel, where the Booker family was enjoying an extended stay. She had cookies for the kids and two romance novels for Pamela. While Mandy and Trevor toyed with their homework, the women eased outside, where they leaned on the hood of Samantha’s Ford and talked business. Pamela was excited because a friend had found a small apartment in Colton, just $400 a month. The kids were falling behind in school, and after three nights at the motel she was ready to move on. They decided to leave early on the next morning, take the kids to school, and look at the apartment. Samantha would do the driving.





20


After two weeks in Brady, or more accurately three weeks away from Scully & Pershing, Samantha’s sleep deprivation had been thoroughly exorcised and she was back to her old habits. At 5:00 on Friday morning, she was sipping coffee in bed and hammering out a three-page memo on the subject of Buddy Ryzer’s black lungs and Casper Slate’s fraudulent behavior in screwing him out of benefits. At 6:00, she e-mailed it to Mattie, Donovan, and her father. Marshall Kofer’s reaction was something she was eager to hear.

Another big lawsuit was the last thing on Donovan’s mind, and her intent was not to pester him on this momentous day. She was simply hoping he might find the time over the weekend to read about Mr. Ryzer and pass along his thoughts. Ten minutes later, she received his thoughts. His e-mail read: “I have battled with these slimeballs tooth and nail for the past 12 years, and I hate them with a passion. My fantasy trial is a huge courtroom showdown against Castrate, a grand exposé of all their sins. I love this case! Let’s talk later. Off to war in Colton. Should be fun!!”

She replied: “Will do. Best of luck.”

At 7:00, she drove to the Starlight Motel and gathered up the Bookers. Mandy and Trevor were dressed in their best and eager to get back to school. As Samantha drove, they ate her doughnuts and chattered nonstop. Again, the line between lawyering and social work was getting blurred, but it didn’t matter. According to Mattie, in addition to providing legal advice, the job often included marriage counseling, carpooling, cooking, job searching, tutoring, financial advising, apartment hunting, and babysitting. She was fond of saying, “We don’t work by the hour, but by the client.”

Outside the school in Colton, Samantha stayed in the car while Pamela went inside with her children. She wanted to say hello to the teachers and explain things. Samantha had sent daily e-mails to the school, and the teachers and principal had been supportive.

With the kids securely in place back where they belonged, Samantha and Pamela spent the next two hours looking into the rather sparse selection of rental housing in and around Colton. The apartment Pamela’s friend had gushed on about was only a few blocks from the school and one of four units in a run-down commercial building that had been partially converted. The place was clean enough, with a few sticks of furniture, which was important because Pamela had none. It was priced at $400 a month, which seemed reasonable given its condition. As they left, Pamela said, with no enthusiasm at all, “I guess we could live there.”

Mattie’s slush fund was good for a couple of months only, though Samantha did not divulge this. She gave the accurate impression that money was tight and that Pamela needed to find work as soon as possible. No hearing on the garnishment order had been set; in fact, Samantha had not heard a word from the defendant, Top Market Solutions. She had called the lamp factory twice to make sure Mr. Simmons was in a semi-pleasant mood and that Pamela could still get her job back as soon as the garnishment went away. Prospects for other employment in Hopper County were dim.