Free The Appeal by John Grisham Page B

gives an award one day and the defendant writes a check the next?”
    “Yes, he’s stupid, but not that stupid.”
    “He sent you over here?”
    “Yes. He jumped me first thing this morning, and I expect to get jumped for many days to come.”
    “Couldn’t you wait a day, two days, maybe a week? Let us breathe a little, maybe enjoy the moment?”
    “He wants a plan. Something in writing. Repayments, stuff like that.”
    “I’ll give him a plan,” Wes said, his words trailing off. He did not want to fight with Huffy. Though not exactly friends, they were certainly friendly and enjoyedeach other’s company. Wes was extremely grateful for Huffy’s willingness to roll the dice. Huffy admired the Paytons for losing it all as they risked it all. He had spent hours with them as they surrendered their home, office, cars, retirement accounts.
    “Let’s talk about the next three months,” Huffy said. The four legs of his folding chair were uneven and he rocked slightly as he talked.
    Wes took a deep breath, gave a roll of the eyes. He suddenly felt very tired. “Once upon a time, we were grossing fifty thousand a month, clearing thirty, before taxes. Life was good, you remember. It’ll take a year to crank up that treadmill, but we can do it. We have no choice. We’ll survive until the appeals run their course. If the verdict stands, Kirkhead can take his money and take a hike. We’ll retire, time for the sailboat. If the verdict is reversed, we’ll go bankrupt and start advertising for quickie divorces.”
    “Surely the verdict will attract clients.”
    “Of course, but most of it’ll be junk.”
    By using the word “bankrupt,” Wes had gently placed Huffy back in his box, along with old Prickhead and the bank. The verdict could not be classified as an asset, and without it the Paytons’ balance sheet looked as bleak as it did a day earlier. They had lost virtually everything already, and to be adjudged bankrupt was a further indignity they were willing to endure. Pile it on.
    They would be back.
    “I’m not giving you a plan, Huffy. Thanks for asking.Come back in thirty days and we’ll talk. Right now I’ve got clients who’ve been ignored for months.”
    “So what do I tell Mr. Prickhead?”
    “Simple. Push just a little bit harder, and he can use the paper to wipe with. Ease off, give us some time, and we’ll satisfy the debt.”
    “I’ll pass it along.”
    __________
    A t Babe’s Coffee Shop on Main Street, Mary Grace and Tip Shepard sat in a booth near the front windows and talked about the town. She remembered Main Street as a busy place where people shopped and gathered. Bowmore was too small for the large discount stores, so the downtown merchants survived. When she was a kid, traffic was often heavy, parking hard to find. Now half the storefronts were covered with plywood, and the other half were desperate for business.
    A teenager with an apron brought two cups of black coffee and left without a word. Mary Grace added sugar while Shepard watched her carefully. “Are you sure the coffee is safe?” he asked.
    “Of course. The city finally passed an ordinance forbidding the use of its water in restaurants. Plus, I’ve known Babe for thirty years. She was one of the first to buy her water.”
    Shepard took a cautious sip, then arranged his tape recorder and notebook.
    “Why did you take the cases?” he asked.
    She smiled and shook her head and kept stirring.“I’ve asked myself that a thousand times, but the answer is really simple. Pete, Jeannette’s husband, worked for my uncle. I knew several of the victims. It’s a small town, and when so many people became ill, it was obvious there had to be a reason. The cancer came in waves, and there was so much suffering. After attending the first three or four funerals, I realized something had to be done.”
    He took notes and ignored the pause.
    She continued. “Krane was the biggest employer, and for years there had been rumors of