Mountain Top(220)

I saw Conrad turn in his chair and begin talking to the person next to him.

“Tell me more about your educational background,” Mr. Appleby said to me.

I started to give a two-sentence answer, then remembered Zach’s advice about taking the opportunity to talk when asked a question by one of the partners.

“I’d be glad to.”

It was an easy subject. I’d defended homeschooling against all comers for years. Mr. Appleby asked several insightful questions, and I talked steadily through the salad course up to arrival of our entrée, a seafood dish as rich as anything I’d ever eaten. Once, I looked at Zach and silently offered to pass the ball to him, but he gave a slight shake of his head. This was my chance to impress Mr. Appleby. So, I continued talking.

“And do you believe this type of education makes you a better law student?” Mr. Appleby asked.

“Yes sir. I didn’t wait until law school to learn how to analyze an issue and evaluate possible solutions.”

Mr. Appleby turned his attention to Zach, and they began to discuss a case involving a Norwegian shipping company. I couldn’t follow the unfamiliar admiralty terms. Learning the law of Georgia was challenging enough; the prospect of applying U.S., Norwegian, and international law to a legal problem was overwhelming. As a waiter took away our plates, Mr. Appleby looked at his watch.

“It will be too late to call Oslo when we get back to the office,” he said. “Send Bergen an e-mail outlining our position so he can read it in the morning. If he wants to continue to do business with our client in the port of Savannah, there will have to be concessions on the container surcharge and agreement on the arbitration language.”

Dessert was a custard dish that dissolved on my tongue and sent shivers down my spine. I wanted to ask for the recipe so I could make it for my family, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Julie didn’t seem to have that problem. I could hear her laughing loudly at the other end of the table.

Mr. Carpenter stood and tapped his glass again. The room became quiet.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed this luncheon. Every time we do this, it makes me wish we spent more time together as a firm.”

I heard Conrad clear his throat. Mr. Carpenter continued.

“We don’t have any prizes to give away, but there is a drawing of sorts for our summer clerks.”

I sat up straighter.

“Judge Cannon has agreed to allow our summer clerks to handle minor misdemeanor cases under appropriate supervision. These are pro bono matters. The clerks won’t be providing as important a contribution to the community as Vince did with his Eagle Scout project, but every citizen of the land deserves legal representation. Ms. Taylor picked up an order authorizing this work at the courthouse this morning. The judge is authorizing the firm to delegate the cases; however, I think it would be appropriate for the clerks to have a hand in the selection process.”

He paused. I suspected his last comment was meant to be a play on words, but no one laughed. He held up three folders.

“Each of these folders contains a brief description of a case and an order from Judge Cannon specially authorizing you to make an appearance on behalf of the defendant.”

One of the younger lawyers called out, “When I was a summer clerk I had to represent a man caught playing video poker!”

Mr. Carpenter spoke. “And as I recall you gambled with his future, and he spent ninety days in jail.”

“Bob lost a hundred dollars playing the machines while investigating that case,” another lawyer said.

“If our clerks will step forward,” Mr. Carpenter said, “I’ll let them choose their fate.”

Julie stood beside Mr. Carpenter. Vince and I joined her. Mr. Carpenter held out the three folders.

“Ms. Feldman,” he said.

Julie chose the one in the middle and opened it.

“State v. Ferguson,” she said. “I think he’s charged with impersonating a public official—a water-meter reader.”

“Say that fast three times in front of the judge,” one of the lawyers said.

“Why would someone do that?” Julie asked Mr. Carpenter.

“Allegedly,” Mr. Carpenter corrected. “Meet with your client and investigate the facts; then we’ll talk about a theory of the case.” The senior partner pointed to the lawyer named Ned. “Mr. Danforth, I want you to supervise Ms. Feldman’s efforts on behalf of the defendant.”

“Can we do it on my boat?” the lawyer asked.

“Not without appropriate adult supervision,” another lawyer responded.

The flirting banter in the room made me uncomfortable. I glanced at Julie, who didn’t seem upset by the innuendos. Mr. Carpenter turned to Vince.