No. The numbers were accurate. It was the next number that concerned them.
"Nate O'Riley has been in contact with his client. To settle this matter, she will offer each of the six heirs ten million dollars."
The lawyers had never calculated and scribbled so fast. Hark had three clients; 17.5 percent gave him a fee of $5.25 million. Geena and Cody had agreed on a 20 percent cut for Langhorne, so her little firm would collect $2 million. Same for Yancy, subject to court approval because Ramble was still a minor. And Wally Bright, a street hustler who scratched out a living by advertising quickie divorces on bus benches, would collect half of the $10 million under his unconscionable contract with Libbigail and Spike.
Wally reacted first. Though his heart was frozen and his esophagus clamped shut, he managed to say, with some measure of brass, "No way my client will settle for less than fifty million."
The others shook their heads too. They frowned and tried to appear disgusted with the paltry sum being offered, while in fact they were already spending the money.
Wally Bright couldn't write fifty million and get the zeros in the correct places. But he managed to throw the figure out like a Vegas high-roller.
They had agreed before the meeting that if money was discussed, they would go no lower than fifty million per heir. This sounded fine, before the meeting. Now, the ten million on the table looked awfully good.
"That's about one percent of the estate," Hark said.
"You can look at it that way," Josh said. "In fact, there are many ways to look at it. But I prefer to start at zero, which is where you are now, and work up, rather than look at the entire estate and work down."
But Josh also wanted their trust. They kicked the numbers around for a while, then he said, "No, personally, if I represented one of the heirs, I wouldn't take ten million."
They froze and listened intently.
"She is not a greedy woman. I think Nate O'Riley could convince her to settle at twenty million per heir."
The fees doubled-over ten million for Hark. Four million for Langhorne and Yancy. Poor Wally, at ten now, was suddenly struck with diarrhea and asked to leave the meeting.
NATE WAS HAPPY and busy painting door trim when his cell phone buzzed. Josh made him keep the damned thing within reach.
"If it's for me, take a number," Father Phil said. He was measuring a complicated corner for the next piece of wallboard.
It was Josh. "It couldn't have gone better," he announced. "I stopped at twenty million, they want fifty."
"Fifty?" Nate said in disbelief.
"Yeah, but they're already spending the money. I'll bet at least two of them are at the Mercedes dealer right now."
"Who'll spend it faster? Lawyers or clients?"
"I'd bet on the lawyers. Look, I just talked to Wycliff. The meeting is for Wednesday at three, in his office. We should wrap it up by then."
"I can't wait," Nate said, and folded the phone. Time for a coffee break. They sat on the floor, backs to a wall, and sipped warm latte.
"They wanted fifty?" Phil asked. By now, he knew the details. Alone in the basement, the two had kept few secrets as they drifted through their labors. Conversation was more important than progress. Phil was clergy. Nate was a lawyer. Everything said was covered by some manner of confidential privilege.
"It's a nice starting place," Nate said. "But they'll take a lot less."
"You expect it to be settled?"
"Sure. We'll meet on Wednesday with the Judge. He'll apply more pressure. By then the lawyers and their clients will be counting the money."
"So when do you leave?"
"Friday, I guess. You wanna come?"
"I can't afford it."
"Sure you can. My client will foot the bill. You can be my spiritual adviser for the trip. Money is no object."
"It wouldn't be right."
"Come on, Phil. I'll show you the Pantanal. You can meet my pals Jevy and Welly. We'll go for a boat ride."
"You haven't made it sound very appealing."
"It's not dangerous. There's quite a tourist business in the Pantanal. It's a great ecological preserve. Seriously, Phil, if you're interested I can make it happen."
"I don't have a passport," he said and sipped his coffee. "Plus I have so much work to do here."
Nate would be gone for a week, and he somehow liked the fact that the basement would look the same when he returned.
"Mrs. Sinclair is expected to die any day now," Phil said quietly. "I can't be gone."
The church had been waiting for Mrs. Sinclair to die for at least a month. Phil was fearful about a trip to Baltimore. Nate knew he would never leave the country.
"So you're gonna see her again," Phil said.
"Yes, I am."
"Are you excited?"
"I don't know. I look forward to seeing her, but I'm not sure she wants to see me. She's very happy and wants no part of this world. She will resent more of the legal stuff."
"Then why do it?"
"Because there's nothing to lose. If she rejects the money again, we're in the same position as now. The other side gets everything."
"And that's a disaster."
"Yes. It would be difficult to find a group of people less equipped to handle serious money than the Phelan heirs. They'll kill themselves with it."
"Can't you explain this to Rachel?"
"I tried. She has no interest in hearing it."
"So she's not going to change her mind?"
"No. Never."
"And the trip down is a waste of time?"
"I'm afraid so. But at least we'll try."
Chapter Fifty
WITH THE EXCEPTION of Ramble, all of the Phelan heirs insisted on being either in the courthouse or within a rock's throw during the meeting. Each had a cell phone, as did each lawyer inside Wycliff s office.
Much sleep had been lost by the clients and their lawyers.
How often does one become an instant millionaire? At least twice for the Phelan heirs, and they vowed to themselves that they would be much wiser this time around. They would never get another chance.
They walked the hallways of the courthouse, waiting. They smoked outside by the front doors. They kept warm in their cars in the parking lot, fidgeting. They checked their watches, tried to read newspapers, chatted nervously when they bumped into each other.
Nate and Josh sat on one side of the room. Josh of course wore an expensive dark suit. Nate wore a denim shirt with specks of white paint on the collar. No tie. Jeans and hiking boots rounded out his ensemble.
Wycliff first addressed the Phelan lawyers across the room. He informed them that he was not inclined to dismiss the answer of Rachel Lane, at least not at that time. There was too much at stake to cut her from the proceedings. Mr. O'Riley was doing a fine job of representing her interests; therefore the lawsuit would proceed as scheduled.
The purpose of the meeting was to explore settlement, something every judge wanted for every case. Wycliff was still enthralled with the vision of a long, nasty, high-profile trial, but he could never admit it. It was his duty to push, prod, and cajole the parties into a settlement.
Prodding and cajoling would not be necessary.
His Honor had reviewed all the pleadings and documents, and he'd watched every minute of every deposition. He recapped the evidence as he viewed things, and offered the grave conclusion to Hark, Bright, Langhorne, and Yancy that, in his learned opinion, they didn't have much of a case.