Rough Trade

heard about it on CNN?”
    “You have no right to take that tone with me,” snapped Eisenstadt, as if he was actually capable of being offended.
    “Knock it off, Stuart. Right now we have to figure out whether this is an issue of material disclosure that has to be reported to the SEC.”
    “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?” he demanded, but there was no mistaking the fear in his voice. “You and I both know that this is a frivolous lawsuit.”
    “How would I know that, Stuart? I haven’t even seen it. But frivolous or not, defending against it is going to rack up some substantial legal expenses for a company that’s already having cash-flow problems. That in and of itself is something that has to be considered.”
    “How can you be talking about telling the SEC when we’re this close?” he practically shrieked.
    “Panic doesn’t become you, Stuart,” I replied, sounding exactly like my mother. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I continued, softening. “I’m sure you agree with me that it’s only prudent to review the complaint before offering an opinion to the client. But I’m telling you right now, if this is a material development, then we have absolutely no choice. We have to disclose it by submitting an updated registration to the SEC. Not only is that the law, but if it is material and we don’t reveal it, the SEC will come after us, and the shareholders will be right behind them. If it turns out that the EEOC levels a judgment against them down the road and it adversely affects the company’s share price, we’ll be defending ourselves in court faster than you can say ‘class action suit.’ I’m stuck in Milwaukee today so I’m going to have Sherman drive up and bring me copies of all of our filings and correspondence with the SEC along with a copy of the complaint. We’ll talk about what to do after I’ve had a chance to review them.”
    “Are you out of your mind? The SEC has been looking for an excuse to sink us since day one. Now you’re saying that you’d be willing to turn around and give them the gun to shoot us with. I can’t believe you’d be willing to torpedo the deal after we’ve come this far.”
    “And I can’t believe you’d be willing to whore yourself to see it close.”
     
    There are plenty of lawyers who get off on being angry. They like the chest-thumping and the adrenaline, the way it invigorates them like a five-mile run without the sweat. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. When I lose my temper, it’s because I’m really angry, and after I’ve lost it, I feel rotten and guilty. No doubt it has something to do with my childhood.
    I spent a few minutes alone in the dining room, looking out the window and willing myself into some kind of internal order. Chrissy and Jeff had enough of their own hysteria to deal with; they didn’t need any more from me. By the time I’d calmed down sufficiently to return to the kitchen, Jeff was all alone, looking somber in his black dress suit, carefully knotting his dark tie using the front of the microwave as a mirror.
    “Chrissy wants you to go and talk to her upstairs. She’s putting on her face. I’ve got to get down to the funeral home.”
    “We have to talk,” I said.
    “Can’t it wait?” asked Jeff, frowning with concentration at his reflection in the microwave.
    “No. We have to decide what, if anything, to tell the police about what’s going on with the team.”
    “Why do we have to tell them anything?”
    “Because the longer they stay in the dark, the longer they’re going to spend running the ball in the wrong direction.”
    “You mean, thinking that I did it.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Listen, Kate,” he said, smoothing his tie with the flat of his hand and turning to face me. “I don’t like the idea that my father was murdered, and I like the idea of being a murder suspect even less. But I don’t want any of this getting out until after the funeral. My father was a big deal in this town. He made a couple of big mistakes, but he made them because he wanted to give the Milwaukee fans a winner, and whatever else you say about him, he should be remembered for the good things, not the bad. He wasn’t the world’s best father, and lord knows I wasn’t a perfect son, but the least I can do is give him that. The funeral is tomorrow morning. Let’s wait until after it’s over, then let’s tell them. Fair enough?” He caught sight of the clock and let