Steven was not at all surprised. Tidal Breeze could save a fortune in legal fees by simply buying off Lovely Jackson. It had much bigger court battles ahead. And for a company planning to spend at least a half a billion, a few bucks tossed to Lovely would be nothing but a rounding error.
“You want to pay Lovely to drop her suit and go away?”
“Yes.”
“She’s not going to settle.”
“You won’t know until you ask her.”
“The answer is no, Mayes. Why would I ask her? She doesn’t need or want money. She’s never had it and knows it will only complicate her life. And if she settles and gives your client a clear title to the island, then we go to war over the development. Our best strategy is to win the first round, clear the title for Lovely Jackson, and tell your client to kiss our ass all the way back to Miami. Surely you understand this.”
Mayes chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
“I know. You’re just doing what your client tells you to do.”
“Yes, and they pay very well, Steven.”
“So does my client. My retainer was five bucks, less than these two cups of coffee.”
“They’re offering a hundred thousand bucks right now.”
“That’s insulting. I will not take that to my client.”
“Do you have a figure?”
“No. And I don’t plan to discuss one with Lovely. She won’t budge, I assure you. The trial will be a lot of fun, Mayes, especially when I put Lovely Jackson on the witness stand. It will be something we remember for a long time.”
For the third semester in a row, Thomas was shelving his studies in creative writing and pursuing other projects, namely research for his wife. He had begun his master’s three years earlier and had been making progress until he found himself in a classroom with Ms. Mercer Mann as his teacher. He immediately lost interest in writing fiction and began studying her.
One lovely autumn afternoon he arrived at their condo with an expensive bottle of champagne and in fine spirits.
There were at least two hundred men on board. Not a trace of the sub had surfaced, and there were enough rumors to fill half a dozen books. His first research would take him to Washington, then on to Sydney. He would be gone for a month, their longest separation yet.
They were looking forward to a break. Mercer especially needed some time alone to jump-start her book. Thomas, who had seen far more of the world than his wife, was eager to travel again. He still saw himself as the adventuresome journalist dashing all over the globe looking for the next great story, and always with a possible book in mind. Mercer encouraged this because she loved him and wanted him to succeed, but she also cherished long stretches of solitude. After almost three years together, including four months of marriage, they liked their routines, solo and together, and they almost never fought. They were, at least so far, wonderfully compatible, and the sensual side of the union was only growing more intense.
They drained the bottle on the patio as they celebrated and talked about the damned submarine. Mercer had already heard so much of the story that she was almost dreading another six months of it, but she gamely hung on. A successful writer needed a sounding board, a first reader, a cheerleader, a person who loved them and wanted them to succeed. Thomas loved her work and couldn’t wait to read her next chapter. Likewise, she listened to his ideas for projects and read his early drafts.
He said, “I’ll finish my last Florida story tonight.”
“Which one?” He was working on several. Thomas was a dogged researcher who could dig deeper into the internet than anyone Mercer knew.
“General Dunleavy. Another story that Lovely did not include.”
“She probably never heard it.”
“That, or it was too gruesome.”
“Do you often wonder how accurate her stories are? We’re talking about oral histories handed down for almost two hundred years. There had to be some embellishment along the way.”
“Sure, and that makes your job easier, Mercer. With no one to check the facts, you can embellish all you want. You do write fiction.”
“Thank goodness.”
