Sycamore Row - John Grisham

Lanier introduced himself with a sappy smile and began the questioning. “Let’s start
with your family,” he said. Names, current residences, birth dates, birthplaces,
education, employment, children, grandchildren, parents, brothers, sisters, cousins,
aunts, uncles. Lettie and Portia had rehearsed thoroughly and the answers came easily.
Lanier paused at one point when he realized Portia was her daughter. Jake explained,
“She’s an intern in my office. Paid.” This caused some concern around the table.
Stillman Rush finally asked, “Does this pose a conflict, Jake?”
Jake had thought it over long ago. “Not at all. I represent the estate. Portia is not a
beneficiary under the will. I see no conflict. Do you?”
“Is she going to be a witness?” Lester Chilcott asked.
“No. She was away in the Army for the past six years.”
Zack Zeitler asked, “Will she have access to certain information her mother perhaps
should not see?”
“Such as?”
“I can’t give you an example right now. I’m just speculating. I’m not saying there’s a
conflict here, Jake, I’m just sort of caught off guard.”
“Have you informed Judge Atlee?” Wade Lanier asked.
“I did last week, and he approved.”
End of conversation. Wade Lanier took off again with questions about Lettie’s
parents, and grandparents. His questions were soft and easy, quite conversational, as if
he were truly interested in where her maternal grandparents once lived and what they
did for a living. After an hour, Jake fought the temptation to daydream. It was
important for him to take notes in the event another lawyer, hours from now,
inadvertently stepped into the same territory.
Back to Lettie. She finished high school in 1959 in Hamilton, Alabama, at the old
colored school. She ran away to Memphis and met Simeon. They married right away
and Marvis was born the following year.
Wade Lanier spent some time on Marvis: his criminal record, convictions,
incarceration. Lettie got choked up and wiped her cheeks, but did not break down. Next
came Phedra and her problems: two children born out of wedlock, Lettie’s first two
grandkids; an employment history that was sketchy at best. Phedra was currently living
at home; in fact she’d never really left. Her two children had different fathers who were
out of the picture.
Portia flinched with questions about her older brother and her sister. These were not
secrets, but they were not openly discussed either. The family whispered about such
matters, yet here they were being kicked about by a bunch of white men, strangers all.
At 10:30, they broke for fifteen minutes and everyone scattered. The lawyers ran to
find phones. Portia and Lettie headed for the ladies’ room. A clerk brought in a fresh pot
of coffee and a tray of store-bought cookies. The tables already resembled a landfill.
When they resumed, Stillman Rush took the handoff and dwelled on Simeon, whose
family was more complicated. Lettie admitted she did not know as many details about
his ancestors. His work history was filled with gaps, but she did recall stints as a truck
driver, dozer operator, pulpwood cutter, painter, and brick mason’s helper. He’d been