Sycamore Row - John Grisham

38
Before his wife died, Judge and Mrs. Atlee once went eight consecutive years without
missing Sunday worship at the First Presbyterian Church. Fifty-two Sundays in a row,
for eight years. A flu virus halted the streak. Then she passed on, and the judge lost
some focus and actually missed once or twice a year. But not often. He was such a
presence in the church that his absence was always noted. He wasn’t there the Sunday
before the trial began, and when Jake realized it he allowed his mind to wander during
the sermon. Could the old guy be sick? If so, might the trial be postponed? How would
this affect his strategy? A dozen questions and no answers.
After church, Jake and his girls returned to the Hocutt House where Willie was
preparing a brunch on the back porch. He insisted on hosting the new owners, claiming
he wanted to meet Hanna and show her around. All top secret of course. Jake and Carla
would have preferred to keep their daughter out of it for the moment, but they could
hardly suppress their excitement. Hanna promised to keep this rather significant secret.
After a tour, which included Hanna’s tentative selection of her new bedroom, they
settled around a plank farm table on the porch and had French toast and scrambled
eggs.
Willie moved the conversation away from the house and to the trial. Fluidly, he
became a journalist again, probing and nibbling around the edges of sensitive material.
Twice Carla shot warning glances at Jake, who realized what was happening. When
Willie asked if they could expect any evidence that Seth Hubbard had been intimate with
Lettie Lang, Jake politely said he couldn’t answer that question. The brunch became a
little awkward as Jake grew quieter while his host kept chatting on about rumors he was
chasing. Was it true Lettie had offered to split the money and settle the case? Jake
replied firmly that he could not comment. There was so much gossip. When Willie
pursued another question about “intimacy,” Carla said, “Please, Willie, there’s a sevenyear-old
present.”
“Yes, sorry.”
Hanna was not missing a word.
After an hour, Jake looked at his watch and said he had to get to the office. It would
be a long afternoon and night. Willie poured some more coffee as they thanked him and
placed their napkins on the table. It took fifteen minutes to gracefully say good-bye. As
they drove away, Hanna stared at the house through the car’s rear window and said, “I
like our new house. When can we move in?”
“Soon, honey,” Carla said.