Sons of Fortune

“That’s simply answered,” said Jimmy. “Black woman kills white man in a state where only twenty percent of the population is black, and over half of them don’t bother to vote, and surprise, surprise, there’s an election coming up in May.”

“How long has Stamp given you before you have to tell him your decision?” asked Annie.

“We’re back in court next Monday.”

“Can you spare the time to be involved in a long trial?” she asked.

“No, but I mustn’t make that an excuse for agreeing to any compromise.”

“So we’ll be spending our holiday in court number three, will we?” asked Annie with a grin.

“It could even be court number four,” said Fletcher, putting an arm around his wife.

“Have you thought of asking Professor Abrahams’s advice on how she should plead?”

Jimmy and Fletcher stared at her in disbelief. “He advises presidents and heads of state,” said Fletcher.

“And possibly the occasional governor,” added Jimmy.

“Then perhaps the time has come for him to start advising a second-year law student. After all, that’s what he’s paid for.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” said Fletcher.

“How about picking up the phone and asking if he’ll see you,” said Annie. “My bet is that he’d be flattered.”

Nat arrived at Mario’s fifteen minutes early. He’d chosen the restaurant because it was unpretentious—tables with red-and-white checked cloths, a small arrangement of flowers, with black-and-white photos of Florence decorating the walls. Tom had also told him the pasta was homemade, cooked by the patron’s wife, and this had brought back memories of their trip to Rome. He’d taken Tom’s advice and selected a casual blue shirt, gray slacks and a navy sweater, no tie and no jacket—Tom had approved.

Nat introduced himself to Mario, who suggested a quiet table in the corner. After Nat had read the menu several times, he looked at his watch again, becoming ever more nervous. He must have checked a dozen times to be sure he had enough cash on him in case they didn’t accept credit cards. Perhaps it would have been more sensible if he had walked around the block a couple of times.

The moment he saw her, he realized he’d blown it. Su Ling was wearing a smart, well-cut blue suit, cream blouse and navy shoes. Nat rose from his place and waved. She smiled—a smile he hadn’t experienced until then, which made her look even more captivating. She walked over to join him.

“I apologize,” he said, rising from his place as he waited for her to be seated.

“What for?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“My clothes. I confess I spent a lot of time thinking about what I should wear, and still got it wrong.”

“Me too,” said Su Ling. “I expected you to turn up in a uniform covered in medals,” she added as she slipped off her jacket and placed it over the back of her chair.

Nat burst out laughing, and they didn’t seem to stop laughing for the next two hours, until Nat asked if she’d like some coffee. “Yes, black please,” said Su Ling.

“I’ve told you about my family, now tell me about yours,” Nat said. “Are you, like me, an only child?”

“Yes, my father was a master sergeant in Korea when he met my mother. They were only married for a few months before he was killed at the battle of Yudam-ni.”

Nat wanted to lean across and take her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “Mom decided to emigrate to America so that we could meet up with my grandparents. But we were never able to trace them.” This time he did take her hand. “I was too young to know what was going on, but my mother doesn’t give up that easily. She took a job in Storrs Laundry, near the bookstore, and the owner allowed us to live above the shop.”

“I know that laundry,” said Nat. “My father has his shirts done there—it’s very efficient and…”

“…And has been ever since my mother took it over, but she’s had to sacrifice everything to ensure that I had a good education.”

“Your mother sounds just like mine,” said Nat as Mario appeared by their side.

“Everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Cartwright?”

“An excellent meal, thank you, Mario,” said Nat. “All I need now is the check.”