Free Surface Tension by Christine Kling Page A

oak tree.
    He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and brushed away the leaves and seeds on the rough wood bench. He explained, “I am an attorney, and I represent the owners of the motor yacht the Top Ten .” He set his briefcase on the table and snapped the catches. Raising the lid, he removed some half glasses and put them on. “They appreciate very much the efforts that you went to yesterday to secure the yacht after the unfortunate events that occurred aboard the vessel.”
    Unfortunate? I thought. I’m not sure that’s the way Neal or Patty Krix would have described the events.
    “My clients have enlisted me to present you with this check.” With a flourish, he produced a cashier’s check from behind the lid of his briefcase. “I think you will find it represents a very fair sum, and upon your acceptance, we will ask you to sign this document certifying your receipt of the check.”
    I looked down at the check. It was made out to me in the sum of ten thousand dollars. I’d never seen a check that big with my name on the “pay to the order of” line before. Unless you count those fake sweepstakes ones you get in the mail all the time, but, of course, they don’t count. No, this one was real, and since it was a cashier’s check, I could exchange it for cash that very afternoon. The check impressed me, and Burns could undoubtedly see that on my face.
    That must have been what he was counting on. The document he was pushing at me was several pages long, and he had all the top pages folded back. Only the last page, which required my signature, was showing. Obviously, he was so certain I would jump at the ten grand, he didn’t think I’d worry about little things like reading the document he was asking me to sign.
    What he wasn’t counting on was the fact that I knew perfectly well that this was a pittance compared to what that boat was worth and what I was entitled to as the salvor. And as much as I needed money at that point, ten thousand dollars wouldn’t do me a bit of good when it came to buying out Maddy. I needed more than twice that amount. And what I resented most of all was the assumption that he could just come traipsing in here with his fancy clothes and take advantage of me.
    I picked up the salvage documents. “Do you mind if I read this?”
    “It really isn’t necessary. It’s just the standard form for this sort of thing.”
    “Mmm.” I glanced through the contract, the heavy paper crackling as I folded back each page. “I see. And since I’d have trouble understanding all these great big words, I really shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about it, isn’t that right, Mr. Burns?”
    From the look on his face, I could tell he knew something had gone wrong. The odd thing was, it made him look frightened.
    “Miss Sullivan, I assure you—”
    “No, Mr. Burns, I assure you that this is not the standard form for this sort of thing. That would be Lloyd’s Open Form, the standard salvage document that entities us both to arbitration in London to determine what the fair award should be. That’s the document the owner of the Top Ten should be signing right now. Who is the owner, Mr. Burns?”
    “I’m not at liberty to disclose that to you.”
    “I see. Well, look.” I pushed the document back across the picnic table. “The amount you’re offering me is an insult. How much do you figure the Top Ten is worth, anyway? Three, four million? What’s she insured for? You go back and tell the owner to think about that. I found her floating around out there completely unmanned. She was very nearly lost on that beach, and there are those who would consider me crazy to have taken my tug into water that shallow and that close to the surf line. The idea in marine salvage is no cure, no pay. That was the chance I took. Well, I cured their problem, and they now have to pay me for my services. You tell them they’re lucky I didn’t just say finders keepers.” I tossed his contract down