Chương 9
“Why?”
“Because your former employment created ongoing obligations.”
“I read my separation agreement.”
Another pause.
This one was smaller.
“Good.”
“Paragraph seven too.”
The loading dock suddenly seemed very quiet.
Then Garrett said, “I think we should meet.”
“Why?”
“There are matters you may not fully understand.”
“I’ve heard that sentence from my father my entire life.”
“This isn’t personal.”
“Then tell me what the matter is.”
“I would prefer to do so in person.”
“With my father?”
“No.”
“Blake?”
“No.”
“Your office?”
“Yes.”
I watched a forklift reverse across the lot, its warning alarm beeping steadily.
“When?”
“One o’clock.”
I almost said no.
Then I thought about Rebecca writing KEEP THIS in black ink.
“I’ll be there.”
Garrett exhaled softly.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Bring nothing with you.”
I ended the call and stood behind the grocery store with my phone still pressed to my ear.
Bring nothing with you.
It was the kind of instruction that became more suspicious the longer I held it.
A delivery driver walked past carrying a clipboard and nodded at me.
I nodded back.
For ten seconds, the world remained aggressively normal.
Then I called my supervisor and told him I needed to take the afternoon for a family matter.
He said, “Everything okay?”
“No.”
He waited.
I appreciated him for not asking the second question.
“Take care of it,” he said.
“I’ll cover the last call.”
“Thanks.”
I sat in my truck before leaving the parking lot and called three attorneys.
The first office could not see me for two weeks.
The second said they did employment law but not estate disputes.
The third receptionist listened quietly while I gave the least insane version of the situation.
“My father’s company is contacting me about old records, and his attorney wants me to meet him alone.”
“Were you recently terminated?”
“Twelve years ago.”
There was a pause.
“Okay.”
“And there may be estate issues.”
“Are you contesting a will?”
“No.”
“Trust?”
“I don’t know.”
Another pause.
“Hold, please.”
I listened to instrumental music for almost four minutes.
Then a woman came on the line.
“This is Rachel Kim.”
Her voice was brisk without being impatient.
I repeated everything.
This time I included Rebecca’s note and paragraph seven.
Rachel interrupted only twice.
“Do you have the original separation agreement?”
“A copy.”
“Do you know whether the company is aware of the documents you found?”
“I don’t know.”
“What exactly did their attorney say?”
I repeated Garrett’s words.
Rachel was silent.
Then she said, “Do not bring him anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not sign anything.”
“Okay.”
“Do not hand over your phone.”
“Wasn’t planning that either.”
“Good.”
“Should I cancel?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because he asked for the meeting.”
“So?”
“So let him talk.”
I started the truck.
“You’re saying I should go.”
“I’m saying that if you can remain calm and avoid making representations about what you possess, a meeting may tell you what they’re afraid of.”
Something about the phrasing made me glance toward the passenger seat as if she were sitting there.
“What are they afraid of?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s comforting.”
“I don’t do comforting.”
I almost smiled.
“What do you do?”
“Documents.”
That answer made me trust her more than it should have.
She told me to take notes immediately afterward and not record the conversation unless I first understood the law in my state.
Then she gave me the address of her office and said if Garrett put anything in writing, I should send it.
“How much is this costing me?”
“The phone call?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
“The next one?”
“That depends whether you make your situation more expensive today.”
“Also comforting.”
“You called the wrong lawyer for comfort.”
We hung up.
Garrett’s office occupied the top floor of a glass building downtown where the lobby smelled like stone polish and expensive coffee.
I had been there twice before.
Once after Rebecca died to update beneficiary paperwork.
Once years earlier when Walter had insisted I sign the separation agreement immediately because “clean exits prevent dirty misunderstandings.”
At twenty-four, I had been angry enough to sign almost anything that got me out of the room.
The receptionist recognized my last name, not me.
“Mr. Garrett is expecting you.”
Of course he was.
The conference room had a view of downtown and a bowl of wrapped mints nobody touched.
Garrett entered carrying a legal pad.
No folder.
No laptop.
He was in his early sixties now, thinner than I remembered, with silver hair trimmed so precisely it looked measured.
“Ethan.”
“Charles.”
He offered his hand.
I shook it.
He sat opposite me.
“I appreciate you coming.”
“You said it was important.”
“It is.”
“What does my father think I have?”
Garrett looked at me for a moment.
“You always did skip the warm-up.”
“I work service calls.”
“That makes sense.”
“No, it means somebody usually wants the answer before the building gets hot.”
He almost smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“This situation would benefit from restraint.”
“That usually means someone else has done something that restraint helps.”
His fingers settled on the legal pad.
“Your father has concerns about old company materials.”
“Why now?”
“The estate changes have caused everyone to revisit certain boundaries.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“No.”
“Then answer it.”
Garrett looked toward the window.
The delay was small but deliberate.
“Did Rebecca ever discuss Mercer Mechanical with you?”
Hearing her name in his office changed the temperature in the room.
“Why?”
“That is not an answer.”
“Neither was yours.”
He folded his hands.
“Rebecca contacted me once.”
I did not move.
“When?”
“Several years before her diagnosis.”
“About what?”
“She asked general questions.”
“About Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“What questions?”
“Whether documents belonging to a company could be retained by a former employee under certain circumstances.”
I stared at him.
“You talked to my wife about this and never told me.”
“She did not authorize me to.”
May you like
“You were my father’s lawyer.”
“I still am.”
