I deflected his unabashed fishing expedition. “No, not really. Nothing more dramatic than a mention in passing.” Actually, I hadn’t seen his name mentioned at all, but was certain it would be sometime in the later notes.
“Ah, good. Maybe as a close friend, I dodged Ben’s satirical wit.”
I forced a laugh in response but remained otherwise silent.
“Listen, Jack, I’m going to give you my private cell phone number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. And when you wrap-up your efforts, give me a call before you leave.” The governor gave me his number, and we ended the call.
As I dressed, I replayed the conversation in my mind. He had obviously called to learn what he could about what I was seeing in Benjamin’s materials. Not likely that the governor was calling on someone else’s behalf, so he must be concerned about material relating to himself. Benjamin had been his personal attorney for years, so anything relating to that would be protected by attorney-client privilege. The privilege belongs to the client, so even Benjamin’s death wouldn’t impact that. Who knows, maybe just a politician’s paranoia?
Still pondering the call, I went into the kitchen and put together the sandwich that would constitute my dinner. Sharon had stocked a variety of potential meals, but I didn’t have the energy to attempt anything more complicated than a sandwich. I was saving my energy for another evening of reviewing the mountain of materials mocking me from upstairs.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning I continued my review of Benjamin’s notes. I could feel my focus weakening as a voice in the back of my head kept suggesting it was a pointless task. His notes mostly consisted of his personal assessment of the people he came in contact with. Attorneys, judges, clients. One attorney is always combative, never willing to compromise. One judge is always reasonable to deal with while another is arrogant and condescending. Benjamin had sprinkled his notes with assessments of his own behavior and feelings. Yet I had seen nothing to indicate the type of transgression any reasonable person would deem so appalling that it warranted a deathbed request for my promise to rectify it. Maybe Benjamin’s appeal to me had been the product of his physical pain and the medications.
My reflections were interrupted by my cell phone. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Marge. I answered, “Hi, Marge. Miss me?”
“Sure, Jack. Things just aren’t the same without you around here.”
“Gosh, a guy could take that in any one of several ways.”
“Yup, you sure could, but as much as I always enjoy our banter, that’s not the point of my call. Do you have a minute? Can you talk?”
“Actually, I would welcome the distraction. What’s on your mind?” Marge comes from a strong background in investment banking and her retirement job managing Cap’s Place is something she could do in her sleep. Even managing our business interests through the aftermath of a hurricane that significantly destroyed the building should by no means tax her abilities. She was always great about running decisions by me, but we both have always known it was a courtesy, not a necessity. If she was calling to actually discuss something with me, it must be important.
“First, the insurance company is balking at the projected replacement costs. In the aftermath of the storm, costs are skyrocketing down here, and they’re not willing to agree to an open-ended situation. With each passing day, the good contractors become scarcer and scarcer. Some of the good ones are already obligated a year out.” Marge’s tone exhibited a level of stress I’d never heard from her.
I replied, “Our business interruption insurance will cover us for the period we’re closed.”
“That’s part of the problem, Jack. To minimize the business interruption costs, I’m afraid they’re going to push a substandard contractor off on us. You know what happens after these storms, all kinds of fly-by-night companies descend on an area.”
I asked, “Aren’t there replacement cost ranges already established by the insurance industry? You know, a range of so many dollars per square foot depending on the type of construction?”
“There are, but the range can be quite extensive, and I’m afraid one of these untrustworthy outfits will take the low end of the range on everything and the insurance company will accept that and we’ll get stuck with a mess.”
“Okay, I hear you . . .”
Marge interrupted me. “How soon will you be back down here, Jack? How are things going up there?”
This was totally out of character for Marge. I’d never known her to need anything more from me than to stay out of her way and let her run the business. I said, “I don’t think it will be much longer. Is there something I can do from up here? Call someone?”
A long pause. “No, not really. I think you need to be here to have a feel for things. I would just appreciate it if you were here to add your judgment to the mix.” The situation must really be serious. Marge had never asked for my opinion in other than a token manner.
“Sure. I’ll wrap things up here as fast as I can. But, Marge, you need to know I have total confidence in your judgment. Until I get back, you do what you need to do. I’m sure it’ll be fine in the long run.”
“I appreciate your confidence. I just don’t share your opinion that everything will be fine in the long run.” Her tone was strained and her statement clipped.
“Can Moe be of any help to you in considering the pros and cons of these contractors?”
She laughed. “Moe. He’s part of the problem. He thinks he can make any one of these contractors do what we need. I love that big lug, but business negotiations are not his strong suit.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I could picture Moe saying that, and the funny thing was that he would believe it with all of his heart. And, depending on the situation, he might just be able to pull it off. I’ve been in a couple of tough spots with Moe, and he’s always been there for me. Still, the environment he grew up in prepared him to settle things with force, not finesse. I said, “Okay, I hear you, Marge. I’ll get things wrapped up here and get back down there as fast as I possibly can.”
“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate it.”
“Hey, I’m the one who should be saying thank you. I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for us. Have you heard from any of the others? Dana, Renee, Juan?
“Dana is tending bar part time at one of the bars at Pinnacle. She hates it. Says the customers are a bunch of snobs. Renee called the other day and told me she landed a job at a restaurant in Coral Springs. She wanted to make certain we’d hold her position for her when we reopened. I’ve talked to several of the other waitresses, but in all honesty, I don’t think many of them will return by the time we reopen. You know how it is, they find other jobs and just settle into them.”
“What about Juan? I’d hate to lose Juan. Is he working somewhere else?”
There was a long period of silence. Finally, Marge said, “We may have lost Juan but not to another bar. His parents got caught up in an ICE sweep. Looks like they’re going to be deported.”
I interrupted. “But Juan’s a citizen. Isn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah, Juan’s a citizen. He was born here. His parents have been here for decades. They originally came up here as migrant workers for the vegetable farms. One year, the guy who brought them up each year just disappeared. The farm they were working on at the time kept them on year round. They built a life, but never applied for citizenship. They’re elderly now. That’s part of the issue for Juan. He says they don’t have any family or friends left in the village they came from. He can’t let them face the change alone. He’s talking about going with them.”
“What about his family? He’s going to take his family to Mexico?”
“No. His family will stay here. He’ll go down there with his parents. Leave his wife and kids here.”
“Damn, what a mess. Is there anything we can do to help him?”
“I don’t think so. They have an immigration attorney working on the case. One of th
e legal aid groups that help immigrants. They’re working on it, but no one is very hopeful with the way things are today.”
I said, “Keep me posted. I don’t know what I can do from here, but I sure hate to lose Juan.” A jolt of shame struck me. I was more concerned about the impact to my business than I was the trauma Juan and his family were experiencing.
“Sure. Oh, one other thing, Jack. Some guy by the name of Percy Strickland stopped by looking for you. He just happened to catch me at Cap’s, meeting with the insurance adjuster. He said he had expected to hear from you a couple of days ago. Didn’t say what it was about. Even seemed a little evasive about what it was he wanted to talk to you about. Said he’d attempted to call you a couple of times but hadn’t gotten through. I told him you were in an area with poor cell coverage. He gave me a number and asked me to give it to you if I talked to you. Do you want the number?”
Damn, Percy Strickland, the real estate broker who was attempting to put together a sizable parcel of land for redevelopment in the area of Cap’s Place. Just before I left to come up here, he made me a very attractive offer to buy Cap’s Place. I’d mentioned Strickland’s offer, but not the fact that it was at least three times the value of the property, to Marge. Seemed premature at the time. Now, with all of the issues in rebuilding, maybe I needed to consider his offer more seriously. Yet I didn’t think that with everything else weighing on Marge at the moment that this was the right time either. I said, “Thanks. I’ve got his number. I’ll give him a call when I get a chance.”
Marge and I talked a few more minutes. Each of us attempting to find something positive to interject into the conversation. Failing, we ended the call with me promising to call in a day or two and give Marge a status report on things at my end.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The call from Marge had two impacts on me. The problems arising in Florida added significantly to the funk I was already experiencing. Yet the fact that Marge and Moe actually needed my help motivated me to fulfill my promise to Benjamin as quickly as possible. I dove back into my review of the materials with a sense of urgency, if not focus.
It was mid-afternoon when I finally succumbed to eye strain from reading Benjamin’s handwritten notes almost nonstop since early morning. The only break I had taken was to go downstairs and make a sandwich. I thought about going into town and having a beer at the Buck Pole, but the memory of Marge’s call convinced me that a short walk in the woods would be a better decision. I really needed to recharge my batteries as quickly as possible and dive back into this mountain of documents and notes. So far, the most shocking act my efforts had uncovered was Benjamin lamenting how condescending he had been to a young court clerk who was unable to find a file he was seeking. He had written an entire page of self-flagellation describing the incident. Maybe it was cathartic at the time. Regardless, the description of the incident certainly didn’t warrant a deathbed promise to provide recompense.
I grabbed a jacket and headed outside. The sky was gunmetal gray, and the cool fall air had the smell of approaching rain. I didn’t want to get caught in the rain a second day in a row, but I really needed the fresh air, so I headed off down the trail. I was about fifteen minutes down the trail when, as if on cue, it started to rain. Today, there was no light sprinkle to announce the beginning. The rain started with large ice cold drops that pelted me almost as hard as if they had been hail. I made no pretense of merely hurrying — I took off on a dead run back toward the lodge. When I emerged from the woods and started across the parking area, I noticed a car parked next to mine. I certainly wasn’t expecting anyone but I guessed that it was Sharon coming to check on me. It wasn’t the truck Andy was driving, so must be Sharon.
Remembering how my wet shoes had slipped on the slate floor yesterday, I came to a complete stop and was more cautious when I came in the door today. I could hear music playing softly somewhere in the lodge. I wasn’t certain where it was coming from, but it sounded like the direction of the master suite. Sharon must be attending to totally unnecessary housecleaning. Other than my stepping into the doorway and glancing around when I first arrived, I hadn’t even been in that area of the lodge. It certainly didn’t need cleaning. I shed my wet jacket and shoes and started to go toward the sound. Realizing I would probably startle Sharon, I called out, “Sharon, it’s Jack. I’m back.”
It wasn’t Sharon who emerged from the master suite but Katharine. “Hi, Jack. I’m glad you’re back. When you weren’t here, I figured you had gone for a walk. I was afraid you’d get caught in the rain.” She looked me up and down. “Guess I was right. Here, let me get you a towel.” With that, she disappeared back into the master suite for a couple of seconds and returned with a bath towel. I stood stock still, dripping on the floor, with my mouth hanging open. Handing me the towel, she said, “Here, dry off before you catch your death of pneumonia.”
I used the action of toweling off my sopping hair and head to stall for time. Finally, I found my tongue and said, “Ah, hello, Katharine. I’m surprised to see you.” My next statement was a bald-faced lie. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you after the funeral.” I couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse, other than the truth, which was that she had been a snobby bitch to me at the visitation, so I let my statement drop there.
She nodded and said, “No worries, Jack. People were coming at me in a blur at the funeral and the luncheon afterwards. If you had told me that you spoke to me there, I couldn’t have denied it. I figured you wanted to get started with the drive up here. This place can be tough to find after dark.” She gave my appearance another appraisal. “Why don’t you go and get out of those wet clothes. I’ll make some coffee. Unless you’d rather have a drink?”
I replied, “No, coffee would be great.” I turned and started in the direction of the room I was staying in, saying over my shoulder, “Be back in a couple of minutes. Think I’m going to grab a hot shower.” I had started to shiver but wasn’t totally certain it was the effects of the rain.
I utilized the time showering and getting into dry clothes to attempt to process what was going on. Why was Katharine here? Well, the place does belong to her. I imagine all of Benjamin’s estate was left to Katharine. Yet she knows I’m here, so why choose now to visit her fief? Maybe she feels it necessary to check on the peasants. Realizing I was spiraling into a frame of mind that would only lead to saying things I might later regret, I finished dressing without additional reflection.
Katharine was seated, with her legs tucked under her, on one of the large overstuffed leather couches near the fireplace. She was wearing a peach-colored oversized knit sweater, tight denim leggings, and heavy wool socks. A fire was starting to come alive in the fireplace. She looked up at me and smiled. Damn, she had a nice smile. “Hey there, I started a fire. Thought it might help warm you and drive off some of the chill. She patted the couch. “Sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
Katharine was clutching a mug and a second one set next to the coffee carafe on the table in front of her. I leaned down and filled the mug but didn’t sit. “I really should get back to work.” I gestured toward the upstairs study.
“I see you’ve got quite a project going up there. I had no idea that my dad had that many personal files. What in the world does . . . did he expect you to do with them?” A cloud crossed her face. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I just can’t get accustomed to his being gone.” She paused and then added, “Yesterday, I actually hit the speed dial number for him on my phone thinking I would ask him a question.” She looked up at me. I could see moisture glistening in her eyes. “That’s why I came up here. Since his death, I’ve tried to bury myself in my work but just couldn’t concentrate. I thought if I came up here — this place holds nothing but good memories — I could allow myself to grieve.”
I said, “I should be out of here in another couple of days. Or I could take the stuff upstairs and go somewhere else to finish reviewing it. Give you some space.” I had no idea where I’d go
, Vanderbilt isn’t exactly teeming with hotels, but it seemed like an appropriately chivalrous offer.
“Goodness, no. I don’t want to be alone, Jack. I thought I could help you with your work. Talking about Dad’s life seemed like it might be comforting. I . . . I just miss him.” She drew two sharp breaths but couldn’t stifle the rising tide as she began to sob. She looked so small and fragile on the huge couch. I sat down next to her and wrapped my arms around her. Her head fell against my chest as she continued sobbing. “Jack, I miss him, I miss him so much.”
I was quiet for a few minutes, just holding her. Once her composure began to return, I said, “I’m sure I can figure out a way for you to help me. As you mentioned, there is plenty of material to review.”
Katharine slowly withdrew from me and dabbed her eyes with a tissue she had pulled from her sleeve. I had forgotten that about her. She seemed to always have a tissue stuffed up her sleeve. I used to call it her magic trick. She asked, “What exactly is this project you’re doing for Dad?”
I hesitated. I didn’t know why, but I felt uneasy, as if I would be betraying Benjamin’s confidence to me. Yet it wasn’t because he didn’t want Katharine to know about his transgression, it was because he was afraid she would do as he had and fail to act to rectify the matter. He also mentioned that it might be a conflict of interest for her. I interpreted that to mean that she may have had legal dealings with some of the parties involved. Neither of those reasons should prohibit me from telling her the truth about his request. I said, “Your dad told me that the documents upstairs contain information about something he did, or didn’t do, I don’t really know which, for which he felt overwhelming guilt. He asked me to promise that I would do everything in my power to rectify the situation.”
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