Sycamore Row - John Grisham

In six months, he’d gone through the fortune several times, spending as he pleased but
also doubling and tripling it with shrewd investments. At times he felt like a millionaire;
at others he was consumed with the awful emptiness of seeing the riches slip away and
being left with nothing. Why did the old man do it? Herschel was willing to accept and
shoulder more than his share of responsibility for their fractious relationship, but he
could not begin to comprehend getting cut out completely. He could have loved Seth
more, but then Seth gave little love in return. He could have spent more time here, in
the house, but then Seth didn’t want him around. Where had they gone wrong? How
young was Herschel when he realized his father was cold and distant? A child can’t
chase a father who has no time for him.
But Herschel had never fought his father, had never embarrassed him with open
rebellion or worse—addictions, arrests, a life of crime. He parted with Seth when he was
eighteen and left home to become a man. If he neglected Seth as an adult, it was
because Seth had neglected him as a little boy. A child is not born with the tendency to
neglect; it has to be acquired. Herschel learned from a master.
Would the money have changed things? If Herschel had known the extent of his
father’s wealth, what would he have done differently? One hell of a lot, he was finally
admitting to himself. Initially, he had taken the high road and said, at least to his
mother, that he wouldn’t have changed a thing. No sir. If Seth wanted no part of his
only son, then the son would certainly allow him to have it that way. Now, though, as
time passed and his own unhappy world was growing darker, Herschel knew he would
have been here, in the house, taking care of his dear old dad. He would have shown an
enthusiastic burst of interest in lumber and furniture. He would have begged Seth to
teach him the business and possibly groom him as a successor. He would have swallowed
hard and returned to Ford County, renting a place somewhere nearby. And, he
definitely would have kept an eye on Lettie Lang.
Getting shut out of such a large inheritance was so humiliating. His friends had
whispered behind his back. His enemies had reveled in his misfortune. His ex-wife
loathed him almost as much as she despised Seth, and she had gleefully spread the awful
but true gossip around Memphis. Even though her children also got the ax, she couldn’t
stop herself from piling on poor Herschel. For six months he had found it difficult to run
his business and concentrate on his affairs. The bills and debts were adding up; his
mother was becoming less sympathetic and helpful. On two occasions she had asked him
to leave her home and find another place to live. He wanted to, but he couldn’t afford it.
His fate now lay in the hands of a crafty lawyer named Wade Lanier, a cranky old
judge named Reuben Atlee, and a haphazard gang of accidental jurors in rural
Mississippi. At times he was confident. Justice would prevail; right over wrong and all
that. It was simply wrong for a housekeeper, whatever her skin color, to appear in the
final years of a long life and manipulate things in such a fiendish manner. Fairness was
on their side. At other times, though, he could still feel the unspeakable pain of having it
slip away. If it could happen once, it could certainly happen again.
The walls inched closer and the musty air grew thicker. It had been a joyless home
with two parents who despised each other. He cursed them for a while, both of them