A Fool For A Client

  -6-

  The phone rang. I opened my eyes to blackness and turned my head to the alarm clock. The phone rang again and I wondered who would call at five-thirty in the morning.

  "Hello." I hoped my tone sounded upset.

  "I see you woke up in a pleasant mood, Hobart," a deep feminine voice said.

  I was wide awake. "Mrs. Granden." I hopped out of bed and didn't even notice the cold floor. One didn't lounge in bed while talking to Eloise Granden. Eloise had been a client of Quincy's and she insisted that I continue to do her work after his death. Her great-grandfather had been a wealthy Hawaii banker who owned the largest bank in Hawaii and a large chunk of land on Oahu. He established a trust for heirs that entitled Eloise to a large share of the trust's annual income. The trust sprayed out so much income each year that not even the capital costs of the new winery building and caves she was building in Napa Valley required her to borrow any money to finance the construction.

  "I know it's early, but I couldn't wait any longer to give you a piece of my mind. I called Lott & Pembroke yesterday afternoon. They told me you'd retired and didn't work there anymore. They're telling me I have to see some snot-nosed kid just out of law school. How in tarnation could you leave without bothering to tell me? You've been my lawyer for three decades and you desert me without as much as a goodbye. I expected better from you, Hobart."

  Eloise never beat around the bush, and I'd always been as direct with her. "It all happened very suddenly three weeks ago. The firm's managing committee told me that I didn't have any significant clients and wasn't pulling my weight financially. They forced me to take early retirement. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, especially you, that I'd been forced out. So, I went to France to get away. Then," I paused and looked out the window. An oak leaf fluttered to the ground. How could I say it? "Then, Keiko died in a plane crash. I've just in the past few days tried to . . ."

  "Oh, Hobie, I'm so sorry. I hadn't heard. I've been out of the country for a month and only returned yesterday. That little pixie was one of the sweetest people I ever met. Is there anything I can do? Do you need any help?"

  I glanced at Keiko's picture on the dresser. "No. I'm learning to adjust. I know she wants me to get on with my life, and that's what I'm trying to do."

  "That's the attitude, Hobie. Best thing you can do is to keep yourself busy. Don't retreat into a shell. And don't retire. L&P doesn't know what it's doing. You're too good a lawyer to waste all that skill. Quincy wouldn't have put his faith in a quitter."

  That felt good to hear. "Well, I'm not really retiring. I'm planning on establishing my own office."

  "Well, let me be your first client. If those s-o-b's at L&P don't think my fees are significant, then let them get along without them."

  I could picture Eloise straightening her back and raising her nose at the thought of L&P regarding her as insignificant. No one crossed Eloise when she had her dander up.

  "Hobie, can we meet today? I've got a problem that needs immediate attention. I'd like to discuss it with you in person."

  "I'm sorry, Eloise. I don't have any office space."

  "Don't be silly and let that stop us. You can drive up here to Calistoga today and we'll get started. I don't want my work to remain at that firm one day longer than necessary."

  I knew she meant it. "Sounds good to me. How's one o'clock."

  "Fine. See you then."

  I plopped back in bed. It was early and I could use a few more hours of sleep before meeting Eloise. I wanted to be alert when I met with my first client.

  -7-

  The drive through Napa Valley on Highway 29 couldn't have been more spectacular. Harvest had been completed and the leaves on the vines had turned scarlet and golden. When I reached Oakville, the fog melted and the sun shone overhead. I rolled down my window to enjoy the fresh air. It may have been my imagination, but the valley smelled like the interior of a winery redolent with the scent of juice aging in a large oak cask.

  Eloise owned almost two hundred acres north of Calistoga. One hundred acres on the valley floor were planted in vines and a few years ago she'd planted 25 hillside acres with olive trees. Once outside Calistoga's city limits, I spotted her bright yellow Tuscan-style house on a foothill below Mount St. Helena's round peak.

  Olive trees laden with ripening green fruit lined the driveway to Eloise's house. I parked under the swooping branches of ancient coastal oak next to her garage. She stood waiting for me on the front porch. Her physique didn't match her deep voice. Instead of a big woman like Georgia Pfals, Eloise was petite and gray haired. The winery had been her husband's idea. Unfortunately, he had died in his fifties, and not one to shrink from a challenge, Eloise had taken charge of the winery ever since. She'd succeeded beyond anyone's expectations. Year after year, Granden cabernet sauvignon ranked at the forefront of Napa wine.

  I crossed the flagstone pathway to the porch. "Welcome, Hobie," she said. She hugged me tight. "I've read about what happened. I disliked Brad Hale from the moment I laid eyes on him, but I never suspected he was so depraved."

  I stared down the valley. I needed to change the subject. "The olive trees look great. They were just a year-old last time I was here. Now they're bearing a full harvest."

  She released me from her hug. "I understand. We can talk about it when your ready."

  She pointed a sitting area on the patio with to two wicker lounge chairs and a table. "Have a seat and I'll tell you why I asked you to come here."

  "First," she said. "I want to place you on retainer. I want you available to help whenever I need you. After all of these years, I don't want to have to teach a new lawyer all of my idiosyncrasies."

  The thought of a retainer was tempting. Big law firms love retainers because under a retainer they were paid even if no services were performed. "I'm flattered. But I'll always be available to help you. No need for a retainer. We didn't have a retainer when I was at L&P and I don't think it's necessary now." I winked at her. "I know you'll always pay me. After all, I know how much money the trust distributes to you each year."

  She laid her hand on my arm. "I can't tell you how much you sound like Quincy Lott. He would have reacted exactly the same. He'd be proud of you."

  "Thanks," I replied. "But I assume you wanted to talk to me about more than a retainer."

  "You're damn right. My Uncle Micah has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and isn't expected to live more than a few months. You know what that means."

  I nodded. Her great-grandfather's trust document had been drafted in 1914 by a lawyer in Hawaii. To say the lawyer's drafting style was unique would be polite. The ten-page document had no punctuation, including no periods to end sentences. The document's poor draftsmanship had led to numerous interpretational differences between the beneficiaries.

  Most importantly, most of the trust's beneficiaries had always assumed that the trust was intended to comply with the rule against perpetuities, which meant in this case that the trust would terminate 21 years after the last death of a grandchild alive at Eloise's great-grandfather's death. However, one of Eloise's cousins didn't want to wait the extra 21 years and brought suit alleging that because the trust document did not include explicit language stating the trust would end 21 years after the last grandchild's death, the trust should end at such death. The Hawaii Supreme Court agreed and held that the trust would terminate at the end of the death of last grandchild alive at her grandfather's death. Eloise's Uncle Micah Mason was the last of those three grandchildren.

  "The trust will terminate and the trust corpus trust corpus distributed." I didn't say that Eloise's share of the corpus would be close to $100,000,000.

  "And that's why I need your help."

  I wrinkled my forehead. "Why do you need my help? I'm a lawyer not an investment adviser."

  She let out a long sigh and grabbed some papers off the table. "My dear cousin S
amuel Mason has filed another case in the Hawaii courts, this time asking for instructions on how the corpus should be distributed on termination. It uses all kinds of legal mumble jumble that I don't understand. But knowing Samuel, I'm sure he asking for something that benefits him and hurts me. I need you to review and tell me what I should do."

  She handed the papers to me and I began reading. The more I read, the more my jaw dropped at the audacity. If Samuel won, the implications to Eloise were enormous. When I finished, I looked at Eloise. "This is so bad, I don't know where to start."

  "I figured as much," she replied. "Give me the bad news."

  "It's rather complex, and my take some time to explain," I said.

  "Take as much time as you need. I'm not going anywhere."

  I took a deep breath. "We've always assumed that at termination the trust's corpus would be distributed the same as the trust's income has always distributed, per stirpes with the stirps beginning at your grandfather's generational level." By the look in her eyes, I knew I'd already lost her. "Let me start over."

  "Your great-grandfather was survived by two sons, your grandfather George and his brother Abner. The will provided that the income was to be distributed on per stirpes basis. Accordingly, 50% of the income was distributed to George and 50% to Abner." George had two children, your mother and your uncle. Abner on the other hand five children.

  "When your grandfather died, his 50% of the income was then divided equally between your mother and your uncle. In other words each received 25% of the trust's income. When Abner died, his 50% was divided equally among his five children so that each received 10% of the trust's income. Thus, your mother and uncle each received 25% of the trust's income while their five cousins of the same generation only received 10% each."

  I paused to see if Eloise was following me. She nodded, so I continued. "When your mother died, you and your sister split her 25% of the trust's income equally, so that you each receive 12.5% of the income while you uncle Micah continues to receive 25%. On the other hand, when each of your mother's and Micah's five cousins died, the 10% the cousin received was divided equally among that cousin's children. Thus, because your cousin Samuel is one of five children he receives only 2% of the income. As a result, even though you and Samuel are of the same generation, you receive 12.5% of the income while he receives only 2%."

  Eloise laughed. "That's always been a sore point with him and his siblings. He hasn't talked to me since I told him it wasn't my fault that his side of the family bred like rabbits."

  "Well, he's trying to get the last laugh. He's asked the court to rule that upon distribution of trust's corpus, the stirps should be determined at the great-grandchildren's generation. Accordingly, the twenty great-grandchildren should each receive 5% of the corpus."

  Eloise's face reddened. "How in tarnation does he justify that?"

  "As you know, your great-grandfather's trust document was, shall we say, a one of a kind document with its lack of punctuation. In part, Samuel makes a big point out of the two capitalized words and slightly different language as creating a whole new distribution method for corpus distribution as opposed to the income distribution. He also throws in an assertion that your great-grandfather could not have intended to have such a disparity in the amounts received by the great-grandchildren as you all have the same grandmother."

  Eloise rolled her eyes. "I've got tired of hearing that canard too. How Samuel's grandfather magnanimously married my grandmother after my grandfather died. How Mom and Uncle Micah were raised as one family with his father and the others. Such bullcrap. As far as I'm concerned. Samuel can go to hell, and I need the best lawyer possible to represent me and discredit his cockamamie ideas." She pointed her finger at me. "Now, go get to work."

  We talked a few more minutes before Eloise walked me to my car and we said goodbye and I drove down the hillside. When I stopped at the end of the driveway, a white Lexus was parked on the other side of the lane. I turned onto the lane and drove the mile to the highway. I stopped and looked in my rearview mirror. The Lexus was behind me. I decided to keep an eye open on the drive home to see if the Lexus was indeed following me. Dr. Avril had said the French would know where I was all the time. This was my first trip outside San Francisco and Mill Valley. They probably thought I was sneaking off to contact the CIA and reveal the fissure's cycles. They'd be shocked to know that instead I'd been hired to work on a real life version of the move The Descendants.

  *

  "Even though the Lexus tried to keep some distance from me, it followed me to Mill Valley," I told Keiko when she appeared that night. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to being followed. Hopefully, after a while Avril will realize I'm not going to tell anyone what happened in France and he'll decide he doesn't need to tail me."

  Keiko wrinkled her nose. "It's unlike the French to be so obvious."

  Keiko had lived in France before she moved to San Francisco, so I always trusted her judgment. "Then why this time?" I asked.

  "All I can think of is they wanted you to know they were following you. Perhaps, they don't plan on following you all the time and want you to think they're following you even when they're not."

  "They can play their little games all they want. I'm not going to let worrying about them affect me."

  "Good." Keiko smiled.

  When I saw that smile I wanted to pull her in my arms and kiss those soft lips. I had to do something to take my mind off my desire or I'd fall apart in front of her again.

  -8-

  The next morning, I traipsed to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Georgia had left a message yesterday that she'd found a couple places to view. While I waited for the coffee to brew, I dialed her office. I hoped that she'd located some space more to my liking: A well-maintained suite with white walls, muted carpeting, and a window overlooking San Francisco Bay.

  Her telephone rang three times and then her answering machine picked up. "You have reached the office of Georgia Pfals. Today is Thursday and I will be unavailable all day. Please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible."

  That seemed strange. Her message had said she'd be free all day. "Georgia, this is Hobie Burrows. I can view the offices any time today. If today's not good, let's arrange another time. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye."

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. I poured myself a cup and enjoyed the gorgeous morning sun rising over the East Bay hills. By the time I finished my second cup, Georgia still hadn't called. Instead of waiting any longer for her call, I decided to begin my law practice's first project. I'd start researching issues relating to Eloise's case.

  I poured another cup of coffee and headed to my study and logged on to Westlaw. After reading several cases and commentaries on will interpretation and various meanings of per stirpes, I remembered how much I enjoyed researching legal issues. I was having so much fun that I didn't realize how much time had passed until the doorbell ring. I glanced at my watch; it was almost five p.m.

  I thought it might be Georgia. Perhaps, she had some business in Marin County and stopped by on her way back to the city. I looked through the peep hole. A man in a dark business suit was holding a blue package bound with a white ribbon. I hadn't ordered anything and wondered who'd be sending me a package. I opened the door thinking that he probably had the wrong address.

  "Are you Mr. Hobart L. Burrows, three?" he said.

  His spice-scented cologne almost knocked me over. "Yes."

  He reached into a pocket, pulled out an envelope, and stuck it in my hand. "Consider yourself served."

  "What? Why are you serving me?"

  "Because I was paid to." He turned and walked away.

  I tore open the envelope. I couldn't believe what I read. Lott & Pembroke was suing me for violating a non-compete agreement. Worse, a hearing to decide whether to issue temporary restraining order was sch
eduled for tomorrow afternoon.

  The more I read, the more my blood pressure rose. The complaint was based on two allegations. First, that I'd retained a real estate agent, Georgia Pfals, to locate office space. No wonder Jack had stared at Georgia's files. She'd probably been served with a subpoena to appear at the hearing and had spent today consulting her lawyer. That's why she hadn't called, and I understood. I hadn't told her about the non-compete, and as a result, she'd been subpoenaed as a witness. She probably regarded me as a jerk, which was exactly how I'd acted.

  I'm surprised my veins didn't burst when I read the second allegation. According to it, I initiated contact with a long-time L&P client, Eloise Granden, in an effort to solicit her legal business away from Lott & Pembroke, including litigation regarding her interest in the Mills Estate. Even I could connect the dots. The French hadn't followed me to Eloise's. Lott & Pembroke had someone tail me. I couldn't believe that L&P had sunk so low. I scanned the street for a white Lexus.

  A cold gust of wind made me realize I was standing with the door wide open. I slammed it shut. How could L&P force me out for not having any significant clients and then turn around and sue me for stealing business? How could they be so desperate that they'd follow me around to see who I talked to? Quincy always said desperate men do desperate things, but this was beyond the pale.

  I expected that a check for my severance pay would be included. I peered inside the envelope. It was empty. Perhaps, it had fallen out. I looked on the floor and under the end table. I didn't see anything.

  I was incredulous. I plopped in a chair. L&P wanted me to abide by the agreement even though they hadn't paid me a cent. A copy of my agreement was attached to the complaint. I supposed it would be a good time to read it. I scanned it and found the pertinent sections. The firm would pay me a lump sum retirement bonus of one year's draw. The bonus was due ten days after the date I signed the agreement. The agreement also provided that as a retiree I would receive an unreduced partner's pension. Monthly pension payments were to be made on the first day of each month. I hadn't received either the bonus or the pension payments. Surely, a judge wouldn't grant a temporary restraining order if I hadn't been paid.