Mountain Top(17)
Mike took the pizza from the oven, sprinkled the pineapple on top, and cut the pizza into large slices.
“Anything you want me to mention to the elders?” he asked as he nibbled a hot bite.
“A twenty-five percent raise and four weeks paid vacation.”
“What else?”
Nathan grinned. “Nothing, sir. Working with you is worth more than any amount of money.”
“Save that for the school principal.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Nathan poured a soft drink into a glass. “There are a couple of kids who told me they’re going to visit the youth group.”
Not many teenagers attended the church. It was a problem Mike hadn’t been able to solve.
“Who are they?”
“One plays electric guitar, the other is a drummer.”
Mike reached for another slice of pizza. “You’re starting a rock band on Sunday night?”
“Alternative praise music would be more accurate. Nothing too extreme, but different enough to be interesting to the kids. Aren’t you the one who told me I would have to take risks in ministry if I wanted to help the people who really need it?”
“Did I say that?”
“Once when you hired me and another time in a staff meeting.”
“I’m not sure this plan is going to fly under the radar.”
“The drummer is Chaz Gaston, the younger son of Mitchell Gaston. He’s a kid on the brink of trouble who could go bad if no one steps in to help him.”
Mitchell Gaston had moved to the mountains from Atlanta after selling an Internet start-up at the height of the dot-com boom. All his children except Chaz were grown and out of the impressive house on the crest of a nearby hill. Luring the Gastons to the congregation would appeal to the elders.
“That might work,” Mike replied. “Do his parents like the fact that their son plays the drums? I don’t want to encourage something the parents don’t support.”
“They invested five grand in his set.”
“I’ll bring it up tonight.”
MIKE RETURNED TO HIS OFFICE AND INCLUDED “CREATIVE WAYS for increasing interest in the youth group” to the night’s agenda. At the end of the list he added “Unique opportunity for outreach to the community.” On his own copy he penciled in “Taking risks in ministry to help people on the edge.” In Sam Miller’s case, that meant the edge of reason.
The session met in a conference room that contained a long wooden table surrounded by twelve burgundy chairs. More chairs lined the walls. On Sunday mornings, the room was used by an adult class known for its coffee. Mike often wandered in before the class started and grabbed a cup.
On session nights, Mike prepared two pitchers of ice water and brewed a pot of decaf coffee. It wasn’t unusual for the meetings to last two or three hours, and he didn’t want to prolong the time by pumping caffeine into the elders’ veins.
There were six men and two women on the session. Used to persuading juries that included all kinds of people, Mike’s emphasis was on building consensus regardless of gender.
By 7:00 p.m., the room was ready. Mike placed neat stacks of papers for each elder at the end of the table. With Barbara Harcourt’s absence there would be seven in attendance. Bobby Lambert arrived. Bobby spent most of his time poring over contracts and business documents. He researched legal issues for Mr. Forrest but never appeared in court independently. Normally an impeccable dresser, his former law partner’s tie was loosened and his hair disheveled.
“What’s going on with you?” Mike asked.
“Wishing your name was still over the front door,” Bobby replied. “Mr. Forrest has been impossible to deal with for the past couple of weeks.”
“Is it his blood pressure?”
“I asked him about his health the other day, and he told me to mind my own business. He’s been huddled in meetings and dumped several files on my desk that have taken tons of time to sort through and figure out. I can’t double-bill the client for file review, and I have to work overtime to keep my own receipts on track.”
“What kind of files?”
“Transactional stuff that Mr. Forrest can do in his sleep. That’s what makes it so strange. You know how efficient he is at putting deals together. I’ve pirated his form books, but each situation requires customization.”
His first three years at the firm, Mike served as Maxwell Forrest’s associate and learned to appreciate the challenges and rewards of a corporate practice. Creating the right legal framework for each business arrangement could be interesting and the interaction with clients stimulating. Mike shifted into trial work when the firm’s litigation partner retired but remained available as a backup for Mr. Forrest.