The Lady in the Watch

The Lady in the Watch

Norm Wilson

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

Copyright © 2009 by Norm Wilson

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4401-5090-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-5091-3 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 6/17/2009

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

In the 1890s a Harvard professor purchased a Boston mansion not far from the campus. The mansion stood on a well-manicured lawn adorned by a narrow bed of azaleas and two young trees. In the back yard a sunken flower garden was outlined by a knee-high brick wall. The mansion was a large red brick structure with a wide front porch sheltering a cut glass door leading into a spacious living room. Across the living room a stairway with hand carved balustrades led to three bedrooms for the professor’s daughters, along with a servant’s quarters. A downstairs master bedroom accommodated the professor and his wife. After the girls left home and the professor sold the mansion, it was never the same. It longed for the care it had previously enjoyed. As the years passed, the old building aged with the neighborhood. The front lawn, no longer able to compete for sunshine with the now large trees, suffered from a prolonged lack of such sunshine. Slowly the grass gave way to dust. When a conversion made the mansion into a fourplex, the garden in the back yard gave way to a parking lot for the tenants. In one of the two first floor apartments Dennis Fleetwood and Stuart Sherrill were preparing for the Massachusetts bar examination. Dennis was seated at a study table arranged with each leg supported by a stack of bricks to accommodate his tall frame, while Stuart Sherrill paced back and forth in front of the table. The living room furniture in the apartment included only Dennis’ raised table along one wall, Stuart’s short-legged study table along the opposite wall, and between them a small couch next to a floor lamp. Stuart just could not sit still. With short legs that could manage only small strides he flitted around the room like a round bumblebee, never landing very long in one place.

The scarcity of furniture provided space in which Stuart could flutter. Dennis, his tall frame now fitting beneath the raised table, read typical bar exam questions from open books spread out on the table before him. Stuart, hovering here and there, attempted to answer them. They then discussed Stuart’s answers and compared them with the answers in the materials. Even during the discussions Stuart was unable to linger in one place.

When Dennis and Stuart were in high school, Stuart’s mother frequently repeated, There must be something to the saying that opposites attract. Stuart and Dennis are like two peas in a pod.

She must have been right. They were roommates at Yale, and now, during their three years in law school, they had lived in their small off-campus Harvard apartment. It was old, but it was all they needed, and they kept it clean. They were perfect examples of opposite poles of two magnets. Everything about Stuart was diminutive including his speech. Like his physique, his sentences were short, and his voice was faint, so much so that he didn’t even consider becoming a trial attorney. He was able to buy his shoes in the boy’s department. His round body, not over five three, was the smallest in his family. Even his sister Meredith was over five eight. His fine black hair was just long enough to comb. You would not want him on your sports team no matter what the sport. Yet it was impossible not to like him as he bounced around like a friendly puppy.

Dennis was indeed Stuart’s opposite. His shoulders were almost too broad for his six three frame. His legs, like strong poles, were so long they demanded the bricks that elevated his study table. Stuart’s and Dennis’ eyes were even in sharp contrast. Stuart’s were dark and piercing. Dennis’ were so strikingly light blue that in combination with his hollow cheeks they attracted attention when he entered a room. With muscular arms and chest, and short yellow wiry hair, Dennis resembled the heroes in the early comic strips. Stuart zigged and zagged between students as he scrambled from class to class, usually arriving with a ring of perspiration at the base of his black hair because of the additional steps needed to get him there. Dennis glided smoothly from place to place in strides longer than those of his classmates, even those who were also six three. He utilized his long strides so effortlessly, and so efficiently that observers were left with the impression that he did not care whether he made it to his next class or not. But he was always early, maneuvering into his seat before the bell rang.

For several weeks the long and tedious bar review sessions continued. When they were almost finished, Stuart uncharacteristically stopped pacing. With what Dennis knew to be a worried look, Stuart stopped, bowing at the waist. In a voice as jerky and nervous as his other mannerisms, he chirped. We’re almost through law school. You haven’t even tried to get a job. What do you plan to do, when we graduate I mean? When we pass the bar exam?

Dennis was not one who often answered questions immediately. Usually he first quickly considered possible responses. His speech was as deliberate and thought out as his actions. This time, however, his answer was immediate. He had already thought it through. Stuart, have you ever had to worry about me? Of course not. Why begin now? You know you don’t have to. You’ve accepted the top job with the leading law firm in New York. With Townsend, Hoffmann, Kerr, and McGraw you’re all set -- all set to settle into one of their plush New York offices. Why worry about me?

Somebody has to. You aren’t.

Dennis thought for a moment. Stu, I don’t think you know that.

Stuart had stood still as long as he could manage. Then, shuffling away with his back to Dennis, he inquired, What do you mean?

Dennis had a ready answer. I mean my life style is better suited to living in California.

Stuart stopped in his tracks. You’re kidding! Right?

No I’m not kidding. I’ve carefully thought it through. California is my style.

Stuart had always assumed that the two would be going to New York together. Whether he didn’t want Dennis to move to California, or whether he was being the devil’s advocate, Dennis didn’t know, as Stuart suggested, They don’t want Harvard lawyers out there. They’ve got Stanford grads.

Dennis did not respond. By observing Dennis over the years Stuart had mastered Dennis’ body language. This time his body language did not account for Dennis’ failure to respond. Stuart did not know whether or not Dennis was merely thinking. He finally asked, Dennis, what’s on your mind?

Just this. Stu, how many lawyers are there in the Townsend firm? One hundred, one hundred and fifty -- perhaps, over two hundred -- and even more when you count the DC and LA offices. That firm’s too big.

Yeah. But. . . Stuart took a deep breath. it’s one of the leading firms in the US!

You’re right! Dennis inserted, and watched Stuart for a reaction to his response, That’s why they wanted a Harvard man. That’s why they wanted you.

Stuart’s reaction came in the form of a broad smile, half-closing his round dark eyes. I’m glad to know I’m the cream of the crop.

Dennis glanced at an exam question as he spoke. I wouldn’t say you’re quite as good as I am. But you were a good catch. You’ll be able to hold your own there.

Stuart alighted once more. He had to defend himself. You turkey! Don’t rub it in. Just cuz you were able to breeze through college while I had to work my butt off. And I still don’t see why you took all that science stuff at Yale. What lawyer uses it? Only scientists use it. Lawyers don’t need biology, chemistry and physics.

Stu, I didn’t plan to go to law school then.

So that’s it.

Assuming a fatherly bearing, Dennis sat erect. After a short pause, as best he could, he managed a patriarchal expression. My boy. Let’s look at it this way. Remember what ole Professor McKay used to say, ‘The law is a jealous mistress.’ My guess is that you will find that big reputable law firms are the real jealous mistresses. Son, that firm is going to demand your talent, your time, and most of your life.

Momentarily Stuart turned to pace in the opposite direction. His response was as fragmented as his movements. Funny Dennis. Very funny. You have a prejudice. It’s big law firms. They aren’t that bad.

Probably some are and some are not. Dennis observed as he placed his right arm across his stomach.

Stuart stopped and faced Dennis. This time he did observe body language he understood. When he saw Dennis fold his right arm across his stomach he knew that arm was going to allow Dennis to rest his left elbow on it. And when Dennis’ left elbow rested on the side of his right arm, Stuart had only to wait for Dennis’ left hand to support his chin or the bridge of his nose. Stuart called it Dennis’ thinking position. He knew that Dennis’ most ingenious ideas arose out of that posture. He waited for Dennis’ latest idea. It arrived, fully thought out. Actually you’ll do well there. You’re a conventional kind of guy. That’s what law firms want. You don’t get riled up. You can supply plenty of plain ole nervous energy for their assignments. Your eyes are so dark they don’t reveal your true feelings. And by nature you are able to suppress your emotions. That gives you an edge, over us who have to work at it, and, I might say, it confers on you a certain air of sophistication. They’ll like that.

Ooo! That’s quite an analysis.

Well, actually you’re like your dad. While you pace back and forth unlike him, you have inherited his outward aura of dignity. He may be full of nervous energy like you are. I don’t know. But you are both in possession of an air of quiet reserve.

In other words you are not a reformer and a shaker. That’s me. Law firms don’t like reformers. Law firms want someone who does not get charged up and go about trying to correct wrongs. And that means that your path is probably the happier one to travel.

Dennis again tapped the bridge of his nose before continuing. With one small exception. I predict that for the next three or four years you’ll be doing the legwork for some high-priced senior attorney who specializes in litigation. When you get to court it will be to hand that senior attorney the exhibits during the trial--exhibits that you will have compiled. You’ll carry the senior attorney’s briefcase and hail his cabs for him. Litigation is that firm’s lifeblood. It’s the source of the firm’s big bucks. They don’t turn it over to greenhorns. New guys draw agreements, documents, pleadings and draft interrogatories. You will be good at that, but partners will be the litigators. I want to get into litigation before I’ve hung around long enough to become a partner. I don’t want to wait four, five, six or more years for trial experience.

Alright wise guy. How do you plan to get all of this litigation experience? Go out on your own? Teach yourself? And in California? With no clients and no connections?

Dennis leaned back so that his chair rested on only its two rear legs. He had to straighten his own long legs. Legal Aid, my friend, Legal Aid.

In amazement Stuart jumped six inches off of the floor, a leap for him. As close to almost shouting as he could come, he blurted, You’re kidding! A Harvard man. At the Legal Aid Society! I can’t believe it!

Professor McKay kept repeating one other thing, didn’t he? ‘You should all try only hundred dollar cases during your first two years. That’s all you’ll be worth.’ That’s exactly what I intend to do. I can do that at Legal Aid. Try small cases while learning to handle juries and judges. And I’ll do this without hurting anyone, or digging into their pockets. And, I might even be helping someone while you’re toting briefcases.

Stuart victoriously added, But I’ll be better paid.

Dennis crossed his feet beyond the table. No argument there. There’s only one reason I would consider working in New York. I’ll tell you what it is one of these days.

Stuart did not ask what it was, but Dennis saw his dark eyes sparkle. That told Dennis that something funny was oncoming. Are you going to wear a ponytail in California?

I won’t have to. From what you’ve been telling me all these years my clothes will get me by. I won’t need the long hair.

That’s probably right. Your western boots should do the trick. Are they really more comfortable than shoes?

Stuart did not wait for an answer. He had another idea. Your driving will get you by even better. You’ll fit right in out there. The LA fast traffic is just your ticket. Hanging around the race track like you did in high school is going to pay big dividends.

I’ll be glad to get some dividends. I didn’t get any at the time. My pay was in the form of laps around the course in off hours.

Two weeks later Dennis Fleetwood and Stuart Sherrill graduated from Harvard Law School, and each of them believed he had passed the bar exam. The two friends shook hands, and then hugged. Dennis was quiet. He didn’t like goodbyes. He never had. Parting had always been difficult for him. He blinked occasionally to hide teardrops attempting to form. To conceal a possible break in his voice he said only, Stu, keep in touch.

Stuart, on the other hand, was all talk. Boy I’m glad to get out of here. I want to get started. Started practicing law. I can’t wait. You know, I’ve been thinking. You will be great at Legal Aid. You’re always trying to change, to reform, what you believe to be a wrong. You project strength, but you too have a weakness. You think you have to help everyone in need.

You’re right of course. I fight it, but I can’t seem to lick it. I must have a gene which says, ‘Help him.’ when I see some one in need.

Stu smiled sheepishly. Now that we’re parting, Dennis, I have been unable to dispel one persistent, frustrating, concern. It has been with me for years. That concern has been nagging at me since the semester you moved in with me.

That’s bad Stu. Let’s dispel that frustration now.

Thanks Dennis. Here’s what it is. My second semester at Yale when I learned my roommate was a guy from Chicago I asked classmates, when I was around them, if any of them were from Chicago. I wanted to find out what to expect. I did find a couple of guys from Chicago and they both, at different times, told me you had been expelled by Yale before we met. I’ve got to admit that, because of that rumor, I wondered what I had gotten into. I couldn’t figure out how you were able to start school late in the second semester. The rumor was that your high-powered lawyer father came to the school and used his clout to get you back in. That made me uneasy until you moved in and I got to know you. All this time since then I have been curious about those rumors.

My being expelled was not a rumor, Stu. What you heard was true. That’s part of my past I don’t think I had to talk about. But please let me tell your sister in my own way, should it come to that. Now, you wouldn’t have heard of my dad in your part of the country, but he was a very successful, powerful, and well-known Chicago lawyer. Imagine what a kid becomes who grew up with a father dedicated to, and totally preoccupied with, a large law practice. His kid is a boy with everything he wants but doesn’t need. I was that kid. I didn’t have to work. I didn’t have to go to college. I didn’t have to study. I didn’t even think I had to go to class unless I felt like it. And I certainly didn’t want to go to law school. Why be judged by my dad? Life that first semester at Yale was the good life, fraternity parties to attend, football and basketball games to go to, the freedom to go to class only if I wanted to, and more parties at other frat houses – until I was expelled. The picture changed after they kicked me out. My dad, particularly, turned against me with, You got yourself into this. You get yourself out."

"That summer, my friends were gone, and I was alone. For something to do I ran with a pretty tough crowd. I knew they were hardened gang members, but they took me in. They needed my car, and I needed them. But by fall the lifestyle began to wear me down. It was difficult