“Hey Jeffrey,” she said, to the short, older man in a dark suit that was too long in the arms and too tight around the neck. “This your case?” Wallis knew she had a little extra time and she wanted to put off seeing exactly what kind of disaster was awaiting her at the far end of the hall.
“Yep, tell Norman hello for me,” he said, placing an arm around an older woman who was attempting to hold a fidgeting baby while watching a toddler who was trying to crawl underneath the crowded bench.
“You’ll need to wait out here,” he told her, “Children aren’t allowed in the court room.”
“But it’s about them,” she said, sounding frustrated.
“You’re absolutely right, but it’s in their best interest to not have to participate in any of it,” he said firmly, keeping his hand on her shoulder. Wallis had to give the same speech at least once a week.
“They ought to know now what their mother’s like, save ‘em a lot of heartache later. Told William the same thing. He didn’t listen neither,” the woman said, curling her lip.
“Please take a seat somewhere. This shouldn’t take more than a half hour,” said the bailiff, ignoring the woman’s comments.
The woman tsked and moved the squirming baby from one great hip to the other, pulling her flowered shift in the same direction. The baby’s toe got caught in one of the large front pockets but she didn’t make a move toward any of the benches.
“Suit yourself,” said Jeffrey calmly and pulled his hand away, turning to go in the court room. The woman didn’t budge but didn’t follow him.
Jeffrey shrugged at Wallis, licking away the sweat on his upper lip. The bailiff gave the lawyer a sympathetic look before glancing down at the name of the case on the index card in his hand.
“Everyone in your party here?” he asked, not looking up from the card.
“Yeah, we’re all here,” said Jeffrey, the beading on his forehead picking up.
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”
“See you around, Wallis. Hey, heard about your client’s unfortunate fortune. Husband turns up dead. Only thing that could have made it better is if it had been an accident. Then maybe there’d be some insurance.”
Jeffrey said it without a hint of sarcasm or amusement. He was doing what he’d been trained to do, hunting for the angles and settling for what was.
The door swung shut and Wallis turned to see the glare on the face of the unhappy mother-in-law left minding the children. Wallis still managed a tight smile and walked briskly away. As she neared the end of the hall she could sense the unease. Everyone seemed to be facing away from the last bench as if the hall ended right where they stood and didn’t go on for a few more yards.
Tucked behind them, sitting uncomfortably on a bench by herself was the client, June Reynolds, wearing a sleeveless silk top too small for an ample bosom, most of which was squeezed together and blossoming out of the top of her shirt. June was nervously tugging at a short tan skirt trying to pull it down another inch over a large thigh but not succeeding. Her feet were shoved into high heeled clear plastic sandals. She looked like a stripper dressed up for a date. Wallis immediately began practicing in her head the speech she would give the judge to explain her errant client.
“Hi, Ms. Jones,” June squeaked out, giving another tug to the skirt. “I got here early, like you asked.”
Tug, tug.
“These were the best clothes I could find.”
Tug.
“I hope they’re alright.”
Wallis looked at what June thought would pass for appropriate courtroom attire and suppressed the urge to sigh.
June fidgeted, looking overwhelmed and frightened as her hands still nervously worked the sides of her skirt. Wallis gave her a confident, unyielding gaze, trying to gauge whether or not it would make things worse to suggest June try to sit still.
“Everything will be fine,” she said, her usual response when the truth was out of place.
A bailiff stepped out into the hall, ready to yell out a name. Wallis took two quick strides toward him.
“How’s it look for us?” asked Wallis.
“Hi, Ms. Jones, all of your parties here?”
Wallis stepped back and glanced for a moment, spotting the other counsel, Richard Bach, and nodded at the bailiff. Richard gave his usual smile showing a perfect row of overly-white teeth.
“We’re all here.”
“I’ll let the judge know, thank you. Sherman case? Everyone in the Sherman case?” he yelled. Two small groups of people, a man and woman separated by lawyers, rose up from different benches and cautiously approached the door, looking wary about walking so close to each other. Wallis felt grateful for Norman all over again.
June was still patiently waiting on the long narrow pine bench, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap.
“Will it be soon?” she said, in the same, high pitched small voice.
“Maybe another half hour or so. They’re not too far behind today.” Wallis pulled out a file and sat down next to June.
Richard approached nearby and gave Wallis a small wave, smiling broadly, a bright white glow between his lips, as he took an obvious but quick glance at June’s get-up.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, not looking at June.
“We’d like to discuss a settlement,” said Richard, talking through the smile.