Page 44 of Snake

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” Autumn watched him steadily until he chuckled and said, “Okay, it’s nothing particularly important. I lost a case today, and it’s eating at me.”

“What case? Can you tell me?” He never talked about cases he was actively working on, and he was equally mum about cases involving clients who had him on retainer.

“Sure. It was in the news. A pro bono case with an evicted family. The jury decided for the landlord. She has six children—three of her own, and three of her sister’s, who was killed two years ago. I was able to get them temporary housing while the case was pending, but they’ll lose that in ten days now. She lost her job as a home-care aide getting evicted, and he sold or discarded all her belongings. She and those kids have nothing.”

“Can you appeal?”

“Technically, sure. But I don’t think the judge made any reversible errors. Nor did I. Our tenancy laws don’t do much for the tenants, sadly. There’s wiggle room on both sides, and I did everything I could think of for the jury to give Mrs. Henderson that room, but they gave it to the guy who emptied out her apartment while she was working a double shift and sold or trashed all her belongings when she was only one month behind on her rent.”

Without realizing her father was involved, Autumn had seen a news story about the case online. “She was also breaking the occupancy limit of her lease agreement, wasn’t she?”

Pops turned a gently disappointed look on her. “Don’t be a real estate person right now, Autumn.”

She felt her cheeks go warm. “Sorry—I didn’t mean it that way. I meant do you think that’s why the jury wasn’t swayed? Because there were seven people in that little apartment? One bedroom, right? She’d been out of compliance with the lease for two years. So did the jury agree he was within his rights to act as he did?”

“I don’t know the jury’s thinking. I only know the verdict. But yes, they found for him, so it’s reasonable to assume they believe he was in his rights.” He focused on his salmon and veggies for a couple bites and sipped more wine before he added, “But she wasn’t hoarding children, Autumn. They were packed into that small apartment because she couldn’t afford anything bigger. And the apartment was in good shape. Crowded as they were, they took care of the space, and they were quiet. All their nearest neighbors testified on their behalf. But the jury, it seems, was more interested in the piece of paper than the human beings involved.”

A contract—a so-called ‘piece of paper’—was meant to protect both sides. Of course contracts could be, and often were, written to favor one side over the other, but the other side had to sign off. They had to agree, had to consent. Of course they could also be, and often were, written in complicated and abstruse verbiage meant to disguise and distract; this was why the common advice to consult an attorney before signing a contract was excellent counsel.

Pops was now a generalist, with his own office and two associates, but he’d been a corporate patent attorney while she was growing up. He understood very well about contracts and the ways they were written. However, Autumn knew not to press that point. For him, the case in question wasn’t about what was legal but what was moral—and that very question was why he’d left corporate law.

She absolutely understood his point. In fact, she agreed with it to a great extent. There was a lot of dirty dealing and exploitation of naiveté in the business world. Everybody was trying to climb over the other guy and position themselves on top. In the corporate world, that was accepted, both sides were wrangling words as hard as they could be wrangled, so deals ultimately turned out fairly balanced. But big sectors of the business world had businesspeople on one side and regular ‘civilians’ on the other, and the civilians got screwed hard as a matter of course. In the name of ‘just doing business.’

See, for instance, the entire car-sales industry.

And also, yes, significant segments of the real-estate industry.

But from within such an industry, there were ways to find balance. So she told Pops, “I can reach out and see if I can find housing for her and the kids.” Her network in the Indiana real estate scene—and throughout the Midwest, really—was wide and deep. She was confident she could find someone who had Section 8 housing they needed to fill quickly so they could proceed with renting and/or selling their unencumbered units. There was generally a long waiting list for Section 8, but Autumn had ways of helping somebody jump the line.

The relief in her father’s smile seemed to light him from the inside. “That would be wonderful, lass. I adore my beautiful new pen, but this would be an even greater gift—a load off my mind.”

“Consider it done,” Autumn said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. She’d spent a grand on a limited edition Montblanc fountain pen for his collection; she could probably get the ‘greater gift’ done with a phone call or two. “But don’t tell Mrs. Henderson until I actually have a place for her.”

“Of course not.” He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “I love you so much, little lass. Now. Tell your Pops everything that’s been going on this week.”

Autumn grinned and told him all about the developing plans for breaking ground in Signal Bend.

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

Autumn realized her jaw had dropped. She closed her mouth and swallowed. “I’m sorry, what?”

Clearly loving her shock, Chase grinned impishly at her. “You heard me. I’m going to Missouri with you.”

They were sitting at a conference table with her entire team, five other people, so she couldn’t react the way her whole insides were reacting—a riot was going on inside her. Out loud, she smiled tightly and said, “Really? That’s unusual for you.”

The man hated to travel, and he most especially hated to travel for work. One of his standing ‘jokes’ was there were only three conditions that would induce him to leave town: a Mai Tai and a hot chick in a bikini waiting for him when he got there, blue skies and great golf or skiing, or somebody offering him a big sack of money.

None of those conditions applied to Signal Bend. Possibly the third, but they were quite a ways from that project paying out.

Chase scanned the table, making sure he had everyone’s attention. He did, of course. He’d had everyone’s attention since he’d hijacked this meeting; they were all keenly interested in him getting out of the way so they could return to their actual work.

Once he was sure everyone was watching, he shrugged, putting some sass into it, like a high school sophomore trying to get under the teacher’s skin. “Hey—you’re about to break ground on a brand-new development initiative. If this ‘Heartland Homestead’ is a hit, it could be transformational for MWGP and even commercial real estate in general. Obviously I want to be there.”

Big claims from the guy who’d just used air quotes when he’d spoken the name of this transformational project.

---