Sycamore Row - John Grisham

sipped wine by Harry Rex’s pool and chatted with Portia.
Though the Hubbard case had saved Jake financially, he was ready to move on. He
didn’t like the prospect of clipping the estate for a monthly fee for years to come. At
some point, he would begin to feel like a leech. He had just won a big trial and was
looking for another one.
Not a single person at the First Presbyterian Church mentioned the trial that morning,
and Jake was grateful. Afterward, as they mingled under two giant oaks and exchanged
pleasantries while inching toward the parking lot, Judge Atlee said hello to Carla and
Hanna and commented on such a beautiful spring day. He walked down the sidewalk
with Jake, and when no one could hear them, he said, “Could you stop by this
afternoon, say around five? There is a matter I’d like to discuss.”
“Sure, Judge,” Jake said.
“And could you bring Portia with you? I’d like her insights.”
“I think so.”
They sat at the dining room table, under a creaking fan that did nothing to cut the
heat and stickiness. It was much cooler outside—the porch would have been nice—but
for some reason the judge preferred the dining room. He had a pot of coffee and a
platter of cheap pastries, store-bought. Jake took one sip of the weak and dreadful
coffee, then ignored it.
Portia declined it all. She was nervous and could not control her curiosity. This was
not her part of town. Her mother might have seen some nice homes because she cleaned
them, but never as a guest.
Judge Atlee sat at the head of the table with Jake to his right and Portia to his left.
After a few awkward preliminaries, he announced, as if on the bench and looking down
at a pack of anxious lawyers, “I want this case settled. For the next two years, the
money will be tied up while the appeal runs its course. Hundreds of hours will be spent.
The contestants will make a strong argument that the verdict should be reversed, and I
see their point. I admitted the video of Ancil Hubbard because it was the fair thing to do
at that moment. The jury, and I suppose all of us, needed to understand the history. It
gave meaning to Seth’s motives. It will be argued forcefully that I was wrong
procedurally. From a selfish point of view, I prefer not to be reversed, but my feelings
are not important.”
Like hell they’re not, Jake thought as he glanced at Portia. She was staring at the
table, frozen.
“Let’s suppose for a moment that the case comes back for a retrial. The next time
around you will not get blindsided by the Pickering matter. You will be ready for Julina
Kidd. And, most important, you will have Ancil here as an interested party and a live
witness. Or, if he’s in jail, you will certainly have time to conduct a proper deposition.
At any rate, your case is much stronger the next time, Jake. Do you agree?”
“Yes, of course.”