Sycamore Row - John Grisham

County, so I guess it’s possible Lettie doesn’t know where she came from.”
Jake thought about this for a few minutes as he sipped coffee slowly and tried to think
of all the angles. He said, “Okay, let’s buy into your theory. Why, then, would Seth want
to return the land to a Rinds?”
“My theory hasn’t gotten that far yet.”
“And why would he leave her everything—the eighty acres plus a helluva lot more—at
the expense of his own family?”
“Still digging for that one.”
“I like it. Let’s keep digging.”
“This could be crucial, Jake, because it could prove motive. The big question is, Why?
And if we can answer it, then you might just win at trial. Otherwise, you’re screwed.”
“That’s just your opinion, Lucien. As I recall, that was your general sentiment right
before the Hailey trial.”
“The sooner you forget that trial, the sooner you’ll become a better lawyer.”
Jake smiled and stood. “Some things you can’t forget, Lucien. Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I have to go shopping with my daughter. Merry Christmas to you.”
“Bah humbug.”
“Are you coming over for dinner?”
“Bah humbug.”
“That’s what I figured. See you Monday.”
Simeon Lang arrived home just after dark on Christmas Eve. He had been away for
over two weeks, and his travels had taken him as far as Oregon, in an 18-wheeler
packed with six tons of stolen appliances. He had a pocketful of cash, love in his heart,
Christmas jingles on his tongue, and a nice bottle of bourbon hidden under the
passenger’s seat. He was cold sober at the moment, and he was promising himself he
would not let the booze disrupt the holidays. All in all, Simeon was in a cheerful mood,
at least until he pulled to a stop in front of the old Sappington place. He counted seven
cars parked haphazardly in the driveway and around the front lawn. Three he
recognized; the others, he wasn’t so sure. He abruptly stopped “Jingle Bells” in midchorus
and wanted to curse. All the lights were on in the house and it gave every
impression of being filled with people.
One of the advantages of marrying Lettie was that her family lived far away, over in
Alabama. She had no relatives in Ford County. On his side there were too many, and
they caused trouble, but he took no flack from her people, at least not in the early years.
He had secretly been delighted when she, at the age of thirty, learned that Cypress and
Clyde Tayber were not her real parents and their six kids were not her siblings. This
delight faded quickly, though, when Lettie carried on as if they were blood kin. Clyde
died, the kids scattered, and Cypress needed a place to live. They took her in,
temporarily, and five years later she was still there, bigger and needier than ever. The
brothers and sisters were back, with their broods in tow and their hands out.