PEDDLER'S BARGAIN Read online

  “Brad, how are you?” She smiled pleasantly. “You’re probably here to see Suzanne. I’ll buzz her now.”

  “Thanks,” Brad said. “Hope you’re doing well.”

  She smiled flatly and answered an incoming call. He sat down in a stylish waiting chair thinking it might go better than expected. Everyone had liked him. He’d played the game well and tried not to burn bridges on the way out.

  Brad slid off his overcoat and draped it across a chair, then picked up a crisp Boston Globe. Anxiety kept him from focusing on the paper. He noticed the renovation had used trendy colors; everything was painted cappuccino, tan and gold.

  Behind the new reception station, a fancy logo read: Williams & Johnston LLP. Things had definitely changed since he left, and Brad hadn’t been part of the process.

  He had a sinking feeling. Swallowed.

  Lots of changes, people had moved on. An outsider now, he wondered what else was different.

  Five

  Time ticked by slowly. People cut through the reception area; some offered a brief greeting, others were total strangers. Anxiety ebbed and flowed. Many things had changed, and Brad felt uncomfortable. The sound of heels clacking on stone tile caught his attention.

  Suzanne Cunningham walked briskly towards him. She was wearing a new business suit, and smiled mechanically, holding out a hand.

  “Well, it’s great to see you,” Brad said, standing up.

  “Nice to see you again.”

  They shook hands, looking each other over.

  “So, what have you been up to?” Brad asked coolly.

  “Busy, it’s been very, very busy.”

  “That’s always good to hear from a Litigator.” Brad overplayed the charm.

  She forced a smile. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” Suzanne was already walking away.

  Brad followed, almost trotting. He caught up at a conference room doorway, surprised to find only two Partners seated at the granite table. Lester, an older trial attorney, stood up and smiled widely.

  “Nice to see you, Brad,” Lester said, shaking hands.

  “Great seeing all of you.” Brad grinned. “It’s been a long time.”

  Davis Sullivan, the senior Partner in the meeting, didn’t get up. “Thanks for coming in,” he finally said. “Please take a seat.”

  As Brad eased into a plush chair, Suzanne sat down at the head of the table. She grabbed a notepad and wiggled to adjust herself. “We’d like to thank you for coming in,” she said, clicking a pen.

  “Well, I appreciate your having me,” Brad replied, sounding cheerful.

  She clicked her pen again. “Shall we get started?”

  “Sure thing.” Her flat tone caused him concern. Was this just a formality? Maybe they were just trying to appease a few attorneys who want me back, he thought.

  “Tell us why you’re thinking of returning,” she said.

  “As you might know,” Brad said, “I’m originally from Virginia, and so I was planning to retire there.”

  “Nothing wrong with the weather down there,” Davis interrupted.

  Brad smiled coolly at the comment. “So, with the kids out of school, we decided to move back home. I got a job in DC and planned to go at it another ten years.”

  Suzanne seemed impatient. He’d already told the story to everyone when he’d left. She had been an Associate who previously worked under him, and now she was clearly on the rise. No doubt she’d be an obstacle to bringing a senior litigator back onboard.

  “So, what happened when you got down there?” Suzanne asked.

  “Well,” Brad continued, “I took the position and moved. My wife stayed back to sell our place. Our plan was to get a small retirement house in the Chesapeake Bay area.”

  “That explains why you left,” Davis snapped. “But, we want to know, why, you want to come back. What happened?”

  “There are a couple of factors, actually,” Brad replied, confidently. “The major issue was difficulty in selling our house. In fact, we still own the place in Melrose. And more importantly, once everything got into gear, Mary decided that she really didn’t want to move.”

  “Are those the only reasons why you want to come back?” Suzanne questioned, avoiding eye contact. She wiggled in her seat and clicked her pen nervously. Her tone suggested that she knew something more.

  “The other part of it relates to a very minor issue.” Brad spoke candidly. “As you may recall, I have a North Carolina license—”

  “Which states are you licensed in?” Davis interrupted.

  Brad rattled them off quickly. “Massachusetts, DC, Virginia and North Carolina.”

  “That’s a lot of states,” Lester interjected. He laughed, obviously trying to sound impressed. But nobody else cracked a smile.

  “There’s a lot of paperwork, though,” Brad suggested, looking at Lester. “Apparently, an administrative issue arose with my North Carolina license.”

  “What sort of issue?” Davis asked intently.

  “Just an administrative snag,” Brad said, playing it down. “Although I’d put the North Carolina license on inactive status, they apparently didn’t see it that way. Not sure if there was a mix up with the paperwork—”

  “What sort of mix up?” Davis was curt.

  The air seemed to leave the room. Brad grew nervous, not having rehearsed his answers. Anxiety. He gathered himself, and after a moment responded. “Well, they gave me an administrative suspension.”

  “Who gave you a suspension?” Davis asked.

  “The State of North Carolina,” Brad answered. “But it’s merely a minor administrative process to correct it.”

  “Has it been corrected?” Suzanne asked. Brad figured she already knew the answer somehow.

  Brad took a deep breath, paused. “This is a simple process—”

  “Has it been corrected, or not?” Davis demanded.

  “Well, the problem…” Brad stumbled. “The problem… is that they want me to return to active status. And that requires continuing legal education, live in North Carolina.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” Lester said. “You’ve got to take time to go down there. Simple administrative processing.”

  “Why hadn’t you cleared it up before now?” Suzanne acted puzzled.

  “You know how things go,” Brad said, appealing to busy attorneys. “I was loaded up on cases. Time just got away from me.”

  “We all know how that goes,” Lester added.

  “Has this affected your current position?” Suzanne inquired. She looked at him directly, seeming to know something.

  “Firm management knew about the issue, but never imposed a deadline,” Brad replied. “Then out of the blue, I got a paid leave of absence.” He chuckled, but everyone had stone faces. “They told me everything will go back to status quo, once the issue is resolved.”

  “How long have you been on paid leave?”

  “About two months.”

  Davis shook his head. “You should have cleared this issue up sooner.”

  Brad nodded in agreement. “Honestly, wish that I had, but I never expected them to blindside me.”

  “Makes sense,” Lester said. “Some firms act that way under these circumstances. Not everyone is flexible.”

  “But wouldn’t it make more sense for you to get this worked out,” Suzanne said, “then start looking for a new position?”

  Brad shrugged. “Truthfully, I really don’t like how the new firm operates. I figured that my track record is strong enough not to worry about going back. Besides, I heard that you have an opening now.”

  Lester grinned widely at the response. “These things are easy enough to address,” he concluded. “It’s not like you took a client’s money for Pete’s sake.”

  Once the issue had been addressed, the interview went smoothly. They pitched softballs about his credentials. Everyone understood that Brad was a talented attorney.

  He breathed easier, and handled the questioning well.
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  Six

  Leaving the interview, Brad felt uplifted. He waved goodbye to Betty and stepped toward the double glass doors. Circular logos were frosted on the glass, but he hadn’t noticed them beforehand.

  Brad shook his head. He took a deep breath, relieved the ordeal was over.

  He stood waiting for the elevator, considering things might work out. The elevator dinged and chrome doors opened. Brad stepped forward, and glancing back at the office.

  The logos suddenly wavered.

  They resembled the face of a young man; black spots speckled his skin. The image smirked.

  Brad shook his head in disbelief. He blinked and the logos returned to normal. No visage of a young man. Then, the logos disappeared altogether.

  Inside the elevator, he wondered if stress was getting to him. He breathed heavily. Losing his job, with two kids in college, had devastated him. His wife filing for divorce felt tragic.

  Instability pushed him toward the edge.

  He needed to get a grip, somehow, any way he could, he needed to smooth things out.

  Seven

  Descending stairs to a downtown luncheonette, Brad was hopeful about landing the position, but he had concerns.

  Suzanne was against him, and Davis seemed lukewarm. There were probably others that didn’t want him back. Distracters. Some of them had never tried a case, so his vast experience was unwanted competition.

  He bought a sandwich and soft drink, and then took a seat by a window. The place was partly below ground. Windows were at eye-level overlooking the sidewalk. Pedestrians hustled by, discernible only from the waist down.

  Sitting there in the past, Brad had seen up a few skirts of young professional women.

  He ate the sandwich, fiddling with his phone; he checked email and social media. Then, Brad made plans to meet up with Lester for drinks.

  There was a lull in his messages, so he nibbled on the sandwich, and occasionally peered out the window.

  A young woman caught his attention. She stepped quickly down the sidewalk, wearing black pumps and a pleated skirt. Her young legs were bare and muscular. And she wore a short overcoat. Brad strained to get a peek as she passed by, but the skirt swooshed, blocking his view.

  He took another bite of sandwich. Someone is looking at me, he thought.

  Brad peeked out the window, catching a glimpse of an old man. Unmistakable beak of a nose, and that bright yellow slicker and ridiculous hat; the Peddler.

  The old man sauntered up the sidewalk, staring down into the luncheonette. Piercing eyes locked onto Brad. A look of disdain crossed the wrinkled face, as though the old man had caught Brad’s glances. Lascivious.

  Brad was already thwarting the bargain.

  Eight

  Later, buzzing from his phone brought Brad out of a fog. He checked email. Lester had sent a message, wondering what was keeping him.

  Brad perused his inbox and noticed that Lester had emailed twice. An hour had passed between the messages.

  Lester left the office an hour beforehand, and went to Brandon-Peter’s for a cocktail. The second email stated he’d arrived and was getting started.

  Brad shook his head, befuddled. He couldn’t understand where time had gone, or how he missed the messages.

  Had the Peddler’s disdain sent him off kilter? He snapped out of it.

  Brad replied that he was on the way.

  Soon, Brad headed down Franklin Street toward the historic restaurant. Rain and mist let up, but an ominous chill swept over the city; gusts of wind turned his cheeks raw, and shook the windows of tall buildings.

  An ominous feeling overcame him. Brad felt his world shaking; he was coming unhinged, falling apart.

  Nine

  Inside the restaurant, Brad walked past high-top tables and the hostess station.

  The bar was in the back, solid cherry running the width of the building. A second level overlooked much of the dining area below. Lester sat at the end of the bar near a window by a side street.

  Brad weaved through the tables and sidled up to Lester. Sliding out a barstool, legs scraped on the checked-tile flooring. “Hey, Lester,” Brad said. “Thanks for coming out.”

  “How you doing, Brad?” Lester hoisted an Old-Fashioned glass, Jameson’s on the rocks.

  “Great,” Brad said, taking off his overcoat.

  Sitting down, Daniel, the bar manager, came over with a cocktail menu. “I’ll just have a Tanqueray and Tonic,” Brad said.

  “A good ole T&T.” Daniel smiled. “It’s good to see you… been awhile.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been working down in Washington DC.”

  Daniel nodded. “Back visiting?”

  “Thinking of moving back, permanently,” Brad answered. “But we’ll have to see how things go.”

  “Sure, plenty of people leave Boston for a warmer climate,” Daniel commented. “Many come back, some don’t.”

  Daniel walked off to prepare the drink, and Brad turned to Lester, dying to ask how the interview had gone. Lester was a veteran trial attorney who’d taken over 100 cases to jury verdict, and he was just getting warmed up with a few drinks.

  War stories would be told, and told again. It would be awhile before they got to the debriefing.

  A painful wait.

  Ten

  As Brad eased into his second gin and tonic, Lester was already on his third drink, maybe more, and they still hadn’t broached the subject.

  Small talk of Lester’s illustrious career prevented Brad from obtaining a debriefing. They were interrupted occasionally by Daniel’s explanations of his latest whiskey acquisitions.

  Observing the banter, Brad waited for an opportunity to talk about the interview. As discussion about whiskey procurement continued, Brad faded out, pondering the day’s events in his mind. The interview had begun horrendously. There was an obvious discord over his current situation, and he had some distracters. Haters. Brad sensed there were politics at play in the highest levels of the firm.

  He took a sip of gin, watching the lime wedge bob in a swirl of bubbles.

  Perhaps the Peddler would come through after all, maybe adjusting the situation. Thinking about the Peddler reminded him of the encounter during lunch. The codger had stared directly at Brad, almost looking right through him, past the veneer, into the core of Brad’s soul.

  Brad shuddered. And wondered what dark secrets the old man had garnered.

  He glanced into the mirror behind the bar. For a moment, the familiar young face looked back at him, amused. A contemptuous sneer.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Brad didn’t find anyone behind him.

  Turning back toward the bar, the mirror rippled, distorting the visage; bugs scattered around the youngster’s face, pinchers chomping flesh.

  “Did you go to nursing school, or law school?” asked Lester.

  “What?” Brad said, coming out of a daze.

  “You’re nursing that drink,” Lester repeated. “So, I’m wondering if you went to nursing school, instead of law school.”

  They both laughed and knocked back a long swig.

  “You seem a little distracted,” Lester added. “The interview didn’t go that badly.”

  “You really think so?” Brad knew he sounded anxious, pathetic.

  Lester shrugged. “Although I can’t speak for others…” He sipped his drink. “I thought that you put the license issue to bed. It really is a minor administrative concern, which can be cleared up in no time.”

  Brad was glad to hear this. He wondered why Lester initially qualified the statement. Badly. He glanced at the older trial attorney.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Lester continued. “There are obviously people with agendas, who don’t want you coming back.”

  “People like Suzanne,” Brad said. “But she doesn’t have a lot of say.”

  “People like Suzanne,” Lester confirmed. “Don’t count her out. She might not have much direct input on the final say, but she does have some sway wit
h people who do. And… she can feed them information to influence the process.”

  “So, she really has moved up since I left, huh?”

  “You could say that, judging by who she goes to lunch with,” Lester said. “And by the fact she basically chaired that meeting.”

  “Anything else that I should be worried about?” Brad asked. “My concern is with the named Partners.”

  “The word is that Williams is in favor of you coming back.”

  “What about Johnston?” Brad shrugged. “I never got the feeling that he particularly liked me.”

  “Johnston doesn’t particularly like anyone.” Lester laughed. “There’s some discord between the two of them right now, so if Williams pushes to bring you back, Johnston will likely oppose it. Given that it’s easier to preserve the status quo, Johnston would win.”

  Brad slumped in his chair. This was about petty office politics that really had nothing to do with him, but it could ultimately derail his prospects of returning. He swallowed.

  Lester glanced at him. “Looks like you need another drink.” He waved Daniel down and ordered another round.

  “So, my prospects aren’t very good?” Brad finally put it on the table.

  “I’d give you a sixty-five percent chance of coming back.”

  “Really?” Brad said. “That much? It seems like there’s too much political turmoil.”

  “That might just be an understatement,” Lester replied. “Williams has been careful not to make a public statement about his position, though. He’s working it through others, so Johnston hasn’t mentioned anything, one way, or the other.”

  “Well, it’s good to hear that people are playing this out carefully,” Brad admitted. “But I’m not too optimistic.”

  “What are their options?” Lester reasoned. “There’s a need to fill the position, and not many senior trial lawyers in town are willing to make a move.”