Sycamore Row - John Grisham

ead the two-page will. Slowly, her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and when
she finished she looked at Jake in disbelief and mumbled, “ ‘Perish in pain’? What a
jerk.”
“Evidently so. Never met the man, but Harry Rex handled his second divorce and he
doesn’t think much of Mr. Hubbard.”
“Most people don’t think much of Harry Rex.”
“This is true.”
“Who’s Lettie Lang?”
“His black housekeeper.”
“Oh my gosh, Jake. This is scandalous.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Does he have money?”
“Did you read the part where he says, ‘My estate is substantial’? Ozzie knew him and
seems to agree. I’m driving to Temple early in the morning to meet with Mr. Russell
Amburgh, the executor. I’ll be a lot smarter by noon.”
She sort of waved the two sheets of paper and asked, “Is this valid? Can you make a
will like this?”
“Oh yes. Wills and Estates 101, taught for fifty years by Professor Robert Weems at
the Ole Miss Law School. He gave me an A. As long as every word is written by the
deceased, and signed and dated, it’s a real will. I’m sure it’ll be contested by his two
kids, but that’s where the fun starts.”
“Why would he leave virtually everything to his black housekeeper?”
“I guess he liked the way she cleaned his house. I don’t know. Maybe she did more
than clean.”
“Meaning?”
“He was sick, Carla, dying of lung cancer. I suspect Lettie Lang cared for him in a lot
of ways. Obviously, he was fond of her. His two kids will lawyer up and howl about
undue influence. They’ll claim she got too close to him, whispered in the old guy’s ear,
and maybe more. It’ll be up to the jury.”
“A jury trial?”
Jake was smiling, dreaming. “Oh yes.”
“Wow. Who knows about this?”
“I filed the petition at five this afternoon, so the gossip hasn’t started. But I reckon by
nine in the morning the courthouse will be alive.”
“This’ll blow the top off the courthouse, Jake. A white man with money cuts out his
family, leaves it all to his black housekeeper, then hangs himself. Are you kidding?”
He was not. She read the will again as her husband closed his eyes and thought about
the trial. When she finished, she placed the two sheets of paper on the floor, then
glanced around the room. “Just curious, dear, but how are your fees determined in a
case like this? Forgive me for asking.” She sort of waved a loose arm as she took in the
narrow room, the flea market furniture, the cheap bookshelves sagging and overloaded,
the fake Persian rug, the secondhand curtains, the stack of magazines piled on the floor,
the general shabbiness of renters with better taste but no way to prove it.