Sycamore Row

neglectful father who viewed his children as little more than nuisances. In hindsight, and with the money on the line, they tried valiantly to prop up the old guy and make them all seem like a close, happy family, but Seth simply could not be reinvented. Jake poked and prodded and trapped her here and there, but he did so with a smile and tried not to offend her. Since she and Herschel spent so little time with their father, their testimony would not be that crucial at trial. They were not around him in the days before his death; thus, they had nothing to offer on thesubject of his mental capacity. They had no firsthand knowledge of his alleged closeness to Lettie.
    And these were only preliminary depositions. Jake and the other lawyers knew that in all likelihood Lettie, Herschel, Ramona, and Ian Dafoe would be deposed again. When the facts became clearer and the issues more narrowly defined, the lawyers would have more questions.

23
    Leaving the courthouse in a hurry late Thursday afternoon, Jake was grabbed by Stillman Rush, who asked if he had time for a quick drink. It was a strange offer because the two had nothing in common except the Hubbard case. Sure, he said, why not? Stillman had something important to talk about; otherwise he wouldn’t waste his time with a street lawyer like Jake.
    They met in a bar in the basement of an old building just off the square, walking distance from the courthouse. It was already dark outside, and misting, a perfectly gloomy evening and a great time for a drink. Though Jake didn’t frequent bars, he’d been there before. It was a shadowy, damp place with dark corners and booths and gave the impression that semi-legitimate deals were going down. Bobby Carl Leach, the town’s most infamous shyster, owned a table next to the fireplace and was often seen there with politicians and bankers. Harry Rex Vonner was a regular.
    Jake and Stillman got a booth, ordered draft beers, and began to unwind. After four straight days at the same table listening to endless and marginally useful testimony, they were almost numb with tedium. Stillman’s innate cockiness seemed to vanish and he was almost likable. When the waiter dropped off the beers, he leaned in low and said, “Here’s an idea, just me thinking with no authority from anyone else. But there’s a pile of money here, we all know that. Not sure how much right now, but—”
    “Twenty-four million,” Jake interrupted. The lawyers would soon learn what was in the inventory, and there was no harm in revealing this to Stillman. Jake was just trying to keep it out of the newspapers.
    Stillman paused, smiled, took a sip and shook his head. “Twenty-four million.”
    “And no debts.”
    “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
    “It is.”
    “So there’s twenty-four million, and by the time the tax collectors have their way, we’ll be lucky if half of it’s left.”
    Jake said, “That’s right, according to the accountants.”
    “So we’re down to twelve million, still a lot of money, more than you and I will ever see. So, here’s my idea, Jake. Why don’t we try and negotiate a settlement? There are three main players—Herschel, Ramona, and Lettie. Surely we can slice the pie and make everyone happy.”
    It was not an original idea. Jake and Lucien had kicked it around several times, and they were certain the opposing lawyers had done the same. Each side gives a little, or a lot, cut off the attorney’s fees and expenses, stop the presses, avoid the stress and uncertainty of a trial, and everybody is guaranteed a nice slice of the pie. It made perfect sense. In every lawsuit, the potential of a settlement was always in the minds of the attorneys.
    “Is this what your client wants to do?” Jake asked.
    “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it yet. But if it’s a possibility, then I’ll approach Herschel and lean on him.”
    “Okay. This pie you’re talking about, how do you want to slice it?”
    A long gulp, followed by a backhand wipe of the mouth, and Stillman lunged onward. “Let’s be honest, Jake, Lettie Lang is entitled to very little. In the scheme of things, and in the normal transition of assets and estates, she just doesn’t figure in. She’s not family, and regardless of how screwed up a family might be, the money almost always gets handed down to the next generation. You know that. Ninety percent of all money that flows through wills goes to family members. Ninety percent in Mississippi, same in