Miz Sarah Strikes Back

"I can't rightly tell you because I don't know yet. I'll know it when I see it," I explained. Emily didn't look convinced, but I knew she would try nevertheless. I could tell how much she wanted to help Mr. Markham.

"Then," I went on, "when you've done that, Stephen, I want you to tell Emily everything you know about Lola, her business, her outside activities, her acquaintances -- everything. And don't worry if you forget any details or don't know something -- Emily is just a whiz at researching things on the internet, and if the two of you work together, I bet she'll find it."

"So get to work, you two, and please stick with it however long it takes, because the longer this goes on, the longer it will be before Stephen can get back together with Anita."

I think they understood the urgency, because they looked at each other and nodded. "Miz Sarah," Emily said, smiling shyly, "we can do that." She took Stephen by the arm and led him to her office.

As the two young people walked through the French doors, already talking animatedly, my thoughts returned to when Stephen was served, first with the divorce papers and then with the restraining order. "Well, I know one thing for sure: Lola Markham is an excellent event planner," I thought. "She had her ambush of Steven planned down to the minute, and she had everybody lined up -- from the process server to the locksmith down to the policeman who just happened to be nearby when Stephen returned home. And she also must have had her attorney lined up to file for the restraining order."

"I'll remember not to underestimate her," I decided.

As I thought about that restraining order and how Lola must have planned it out ahead of time, it also occurred to me that Lola hadn't really been fearful for her safety when she requested it. "Heck, Stephen is a gentleman; he'd never lift a finger against a woman under any circumstances. And Lola knows that better than any of us."

Well, if she didn't need protection from Stephen, why did she seek an order of protection? Because, I decided, she must want Stephen to settle the divorce as quickly as possible. How better to make that happen than to take away his little girl? "I think I see you now, Miz Lola," I thought. "You're a devious little thing, aren't you?"

There was another thing about the divorce petition that piqued my interest. Lola had chosen Bolger, Willingham and Howe, one of the largest law firms in Atlanta, to represent her. Fair enough, I thought, except that Bolger, Willingham specializes in corporate law. I'd be surprised if they even had a family law specialist on staff.

Sure enough, when I went to the legal directory and looked up the name of the attorney who had signed the petition, I found that Harold Jenkins, Esq., was an associate barely three years out of law school. His specialty was mergers and acquisitions. It looked to me like the firm had foisted her case off on some youngster hoping to impress the partners.

"Hmm," I thought, "Lola would have had to call in a lot of favors to get Bolger, Willingham and Howe to take her case. Why would she do that? Maybe she was hoping that such a high-powered firm would scare Stephen into submission."

I grinned. "This is going to be fun."

Now that I had his name and number, I picked up the phone and called Mr. Harold Jenkins to request a preliminary meeting to discuss the terms of the divorce. Jenkins informed me rather grandly that his calendar was quite full, but he thought he could squeeze me in the beginning of next week.

"Thank you for your courtesy, young man," I told him. "I'll look forward to meeting you then."

Over the next few days, Stephen and Emily worked hard on their assignment. Every time I passed by her office, the two of them would be huddled together, talking earnestly about something or other. Emily would type queries into her computer and Stephen would lean his head closer to see what she had found. Twice their research took them well past regular office hours, and they went out to grab a bite to eat together, only to come back to the office later for another round of work.

"Are you sure you're not writing Stephen's biography?" I asked her one day, with a smile.

"Oh, no," she replied, blushing again. (She seemed to be doing that a lot recently.) "But you said that every bit of information might be important, so I'm trying to get to know him as well as I can."

"I'm sure you're doing fine, honey," I soothed. "Just keep up the good work."

The day of my meeting with Harold Jenkins, I drove over to their offices on Peachtree Street. The firm leased the top four floors of a 35-story tower, and the elevator ride seemed to take forever. When I finally reached the right floor, a pretty receptionist was waiting to fetch me. She led me to a conference room paneled in wood and metal that could easily have seated 20 people. I felt small in the huge space; I think that was the intent.

"Would you like a Coca-Cola, honey?" she asked me politely.

"No thank you," I replied. "I'll just wait for Mr. Jenkins."

My guess was that Jenkins would keep me waiting 15 minutes, but he walked into the room after 10. I guess he was nervous.

He was dressed in a typical attorney's grey pinstriped suit with a white shirt and an understated striped tie. Although he was young, his hair was already thinning, and I noted that his mid-section was starting to stretch the buttons of his shirt.

"Mrs. Cannon," he said effusively, "I haven't had the pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I've certainly heard good things about you."

"How flattering," I responded. "I'm likewise glad to meet you, Mr. Jenkins."

"Now," he said, seating himself at the head of the table, "let's see if we can't work out the details of the division of property so these two people to move on with their lives."

"Do you mind if I knit?" I asked, pulling my bag into my lap. He was clearly surprised at my request, so I explained, "I find that knitting helps me to concentrate."

"Um, no, of course I don't mind. Please go right ahead." I thought I heard a note of amusement in his tone, but I ignored it and, pulling out my needles and a skein of yarn, began my knitting and purling.

He shifted impatiently in his seat and attempted to re-establish control of the meeting. "Now about the division of property, Mrs. Cannon," he started, but I interrupted him again.

"Yes, about the proposed settlement. My client was quite taken aback by your client's proposal. It seems rather one-sided, somehow."

"Oh, no," he quickly responded, "we don't think it's out of line in any way. Take the proposed custody agreement, for example. It's quite customary for the court to award the mother custody in the case of a child so young, especially when it's a little girl."

"Yes, of course," I agreed, "but my client is distraught at the proposed limits on visitation. He misses his daughter badly, and would like to see her far more than a few weekends and a two-week vacation per year. And right now, with the restraining order you've placed on him, he can't see her at all."

"Of course I'm sure the separation is very painful for him," Jenkins said placatingly, "and the quicker we can get everything resolved, the quicker we can get the restraining order lifted and the dear child back in her father's arms."

He gave me what I thought was a rather unctuous smile, and I thought to myself, "That's going to cost you."

Out loud, I agreed, "Having her back is my client's highest priority."

"Excellent," the attorney enthused, as though the custody issue were now settled. "Then let's turn to the property settlement."

I didn't argue. "Very well," I said, "about the property settlement: is my client to lose not only his home but all its contents as well?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Cannon. Of course he's welcome to the remainder of his clothes, his shaving equipment and other miscellaneous personal effects," Jenkins stated, smiling as though he were making a generous concession. "We have no problem with that."

"But what about furniture and cooking utensils? Surely Lola doesn't expect Stephen to have to start over with nothing to his name?" I protested.

Jenkins shook his head sadly but firmly. "Mrs. Markham is a woman of taste and refinement. She has gone to great lengths and considerable time to decorate their home in a manner that reflects her sensibilities. And, considering the sizable disparity in their incomes, you'll have to concede that she provided the vast majority of the funds for that undertaking. "

When I said nothing, he went on, "Under the circumstances, she is understandably loathe to have her efforts -- he paused here, obviously searching for just the right word -- vandalized in a scavenger hunt undertaken by a vindictive husband. No, she is adamant that she must be allowed to retain intact what she has worked so hard to assemble."

"Indeed," I said. "Even so, she surely can't claim the paintings in his studio. I'm given to understand that she doesn't even have any of his works hanging in the house. Can't she allow him to have his own artwork?"

"I must remind you, Mrs. Cannon, that it was my client who set up and funded Mr. Markham's little atelier." He paused when I looked curiously at him, then explained, "You know, his artist's studio."

I nodded impatiently. "I am a graduate of Agnes Scott College, Mr. Jenkins. I know the meaning of 'atelier.'" Under my breath I added, "And unlike you, I know how to pronounce the word correctly."

He hurried on. "Yes, of course. Frankly, Mrs, Cannon, after the unfortunate incident when Mr. Markham practically ran amok at their home and had to be restrained by an officer of the law, Mrs. Markham is quite unwilling to yield on the transfer of any property for which she paid, other than what we've already discussed, of course."

"That's interesting," I reflected. "He was anticipating that possession of the paintings might be an issue and had a carefully worded response all prepared."

Jenkins now pressed on, sensing he had the advantage, "Mrs. Cannon, I would ask you to impress upon your client that this whole unfortunate matter can be resolved and access to his daughter quickly restored if he will just sign the proposal we have put forth. Drawing out these negotiations will only result in greater delay, and I very much doubt they will change the outcome."

I put my knitting back in my bag and stood up. "Very well, Mr. Jenkins, I'll convey your position to my client directly. I believe we should all be able to get back together for a final disposition in the near future."

"Very good, Mrs. Cannon, the sooner the better. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend." With that, Mr. Jenkins took his leave, a smile of triumph barely hidden on his lips.

I showed myself out, stopping to thank the receptionist for her kindness.

When I returned to my office, Stephen and Emily were dying to hear how the meeting went, so I invited them in to review what had happened.

After I described my session with Mr. Jenkins, the two young people wore mournful features. "It sounds to me like the whole meeting was fruitless," Emily bemoaned.

"On the contrary, honey, I'd say it was a very fruitful meeting," I corrected her. "I learned three things today that I think may prove very valuable to us."

"You did, Miz Sarah?" asked Stephen, with a puzzled expression. "What were they?"

"Well, the first thing I confirmed was my suspicion that your wife is using your daughter to pressure you into accepting a quick settlement on her terms. Mr. Jenkins all but rubbed my nose in the advantage Lola holds over you in that regard."

Stephen's face darkened visibly.

"The second thing I learned is that not only is your wife adamant about keeping everything in your house, she is especially determined to retain your paintings," I continued.

"But why would she care about them?" Stephen burst out. "They're not worth all that much in the first place, and besides, she hasn't shown any interest in my work in a long time."

"That's a very interesting question, Stephen," I replied. "I'd like to know the answer to that myself."

As I paused, Emily piped up, "You said you learned three things, Miz Sarah. What was the third?"

"I learned that Mr. Richard Jenkins is neither a very skilled lawyer nor a gentleman," I said, crossing my arms and straightening my back. "I'm going to have to ask the Lord's forgiveness for some of the things I thought about Mr. Jenkins today."

With that I smiled at the two of them and asked, "Now that I've shared with you what I learned from Mr. Jenkins, I'd like you two to share what else you've found out about Mr. Markham and his wife."

Emily ran back to fetch her ever-growing stack of notes and print-outs, and the two of them settled shoulder-to-shoulder on the settee in order to report on their findings. After a whispered discussion, Emily began the recitation with a synopsis of Stephen's family and early life. Next, he took over to recount how he met and subsequently married Lola Martinez.

As they made their presentation, I noted with amusement that they often finished each other's sentences in their eagerness to show what they had learned.

"Very good," I commended them. "Now have you learned anything further about Mrs. Markham."

Their little duet seemed to shift into a minor key as they began describing Lola's life and career-to-date. Clearly, neither of them enjoyed this new topic for discussion. Yet their negative attitude couldn't disguise the fact that Lola Markham was a most impressive young woman. In college, she'd been active in service organizations, was president of her sorority, and had graduated in the top 10% of her class. Once she'd gone to work full time for Hamilton Johnson, she'd been promoted from entry-level assistant to vice-president and senior account representative in the time it would take the average new employee to learn her way to the ladies' room.

When I remarked on the speed of her spectacular rise in the company, even Emily had to acknowledge that Lola was not just a pretty face. "She must be awfully good at what she does to have gone so far so fast. And the number of major accounts she handles is pretty amazing," she conceded grudgingly.

"Do you know who they are, by chance?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, and, consulting her notes, she began to rattle off an impressive list of major Atlanta-based corporations, institutions and organizations.

"Excuse me, honey," I interrupted, "but did you just say Avery International Art? Would that be the firm owned by Roger Avery, Stephen's agent?"

"That's right," Stephen confirmed. "Actually, it was Lola who introduced me to Roger in the first place. I was quite pleased to have the chance to work with such a well-known agent."

"And here's another connection, Miz Sarah," Emily chipped in, "Lola also does public relations for Bolger, Willingham and Howe."

"What a small world we live in!" I exclaimed, although to myself I thought it was distasteful for a law firm to hire a PR firm.

As the two of them continued, my mind drifted as I tried to make consider everything I had learned today. I had lots of possible scenarios, but nothing I could hang my hat on. If we were going to make any headway, I'd have to get outside assistance.

It seemed that the two young people in front of me were going to continue their presentation well into the night, so for the second time I stopped them. "Please excuse me for interrupting, but I think the time has come for me to call on an old friend of mine. I'll need to do that before it gets too late, so why don't you two call it a night and we'll continue this first thing in the morning."

As they made their way out of my office, I began searching the drawers of my desk. "Now where did I put my church directory?"

When Emily and Stephen entered into my office together the next morning, they were startled to find me in conversation with an older African-American gentleman they'd never seen before. I quickly arose to make the introductions.

"Mr. Rayford, I'd like you to meet my assistant, Miss Emily Mereweather." She nodded politely although somewhat uncertainly. "And the gentleman standing next to her is Mr. Stephen Markham, the client I was telling you about."

"How do, how do," Mr. Rayford nodded congenially.

"Emily, Stephen, may I introduce Mr. Lucius Rayford. He's the man who cleans my offices."

Emily and Stephen tried not to react, but their confusion was obvious.

"Lucius and his wife Mabel are dear friends of mine," I explained, "we go to the same church together. He's agreed to help us."

I took Mr. Rayford by the arm and said, "Thank you so much, Lucius. It's such a comfort to know we can count on you."

"Aw, Miz Sarah, you know I'd do anything for you," he replied. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Turning to Stephen and Emily, he bowed slightly and said, "Nice to meet y'all," and headed for the door.

"Please give my best to Miz Rayford," I called after him. "I surely will," he promised, and he was gone.

Somewhat timidly, Emily turned to me and asked, "How can Mr. Rayford help us, Miz Emily?"

"I've been friends with Lucius for a long time," I smiled. "You'd be surprised at what he can do.

"But for right now, we must be patient," I continued, "we have entered the waiting stage of the game."

"What are we waiting for, Miz Sarah?" Emily asked uncertainly.

"I don't rightly know," I replied with a smile. "I guess I'll find out when I see it."

"In the meantime, I want you two to continue your research. See if there's anything you might have missed, or any other coincidences you can uncover."

"I'm glad to keep working with Emily," Stephen said with a glance in her direction, "but I'm getting quite anxious about Anita. When do you think I'll get to see her again?"

"All in the Lord's time," was all I could say.

As it turned out, the Lord's time came only three weeks later. That afternoon, Lucius Rayford came to see me, and when Stephen and Emily came into my office, I had just finished reviewing the contents of the large envelope he had brought me. "Well, well," I said disapprovingly, "I wouldn't have thought we'd see anything like this, especially so soon."

"Yes'um, Miz Sarah," Lucius agreed. "Ain't it a thing, ain't it a thing?"

I leaned over the desk and gave Lucius a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for everything, dear. You've been so helpful. I'm going to have to have you and Mabel back over for dinner very soon."

"That'll be fine, Miz Sarah," he said. "We'll be looking forward to it."

As he departed, I turned to Emily and Stephen and smiled. "I think we're about ready for the end game."

No sooner had I spoken than the telephone on my desk rang. I recognized the number on the display, and, motioning to Emily and Stephen to remain, I answered the call.

"Yes, this is Miz Cannon."

"Certainly I'll be glad to hold for Mr. Jenkins."

A minute passed, then two.

"Hello, Mr. Jenkins, how nice to hear your voice again."

"Yes, I have had the opportunity to discuss your client's proposal with Mr. Markham."

"Yes, I think we are at a point where we can reach a mutually acceptable agreement. Why don't we meet in your offices at the earliest mutually convenient date? And this time, Mr. Jenkins, I think all the parties should be present so that we can take this thing to a conclusion. It's dragged on much too long, I'm afraid, and my client has been missing his daughter something awful."

"Yes, tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. in your offices would be perfectly acceptable," I said, raising my eyebrows in question to Stephen and Emily to be sure they were available.

"Very well then, Mr. Jenkins, it will be a pleasure to see you then."

Turning to Emily and Stephen, I said, "As great Caesar said, 'The die is cast.' Now, before we have our meeting, I need to know if you've found any other information that might make a difference in our case."