Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [165]
Olympia withdraws her hand. “You have picked an exceedingly odd time to announce your admiration,” she says.
“Yes. Indeed. I have. But is there ever an opportune time and place for such pronouncements?”
“No, perhaps not.”
Olympia considers Tucker. “I should not like to quash hope in any person, having much need of it myself,” she says carefully. “And I should particularly not want to disappoint you, since I am already more grateful to you than I can say. But I cannot offer any person more than I can give.”
“I understand.”
“Please call me Olympia. It is absurd of us to stand on ceremony when we are surrounded by too much pomp and protocol already.”
“Thank you, Olympia,” he says.
“My God, Tucker,” says Judge Littlefield, emerging from the gloom and startling them both. “If I discover that it was Sears who has caused this pandemonium, I shall have him disbarred. Tell me it was not you.”
“No, sir,” says Tucker, more than slightly flustered to have been overheard in his private petition. “There is no advantage to me in having the courtroom packed with members of the Franco community.”
“No, quite.”
“And if I may say so, sir,” Tucker adds, “one cannot be certain that it was Sears either.”
“No, perhaps not. But who then?”
“A disgruntled witness perhaps?” Tucker suggests, looking at Olympia as he does so.
“Let me think on that,” Littlefield says. “And tell your father that he still owes me a barrel of apples.”
“Sir?”
“An old bet, Mr. Tucker. An old bet.”
Littlefield advances toward the door and holds it open for them.
“This could be a circus,” Tucker says quietly to Olympia as he shepherds her toward the entryway. “And it almost certainly will be painful. From the sound of it, I think there are rather more Franco supporters than Yankee in there. Think only about your cause and remember, it is not the public who is making the decision.”
“No, I should hope not,” says Littlefield.
Inside the larger hearing room, it is as Tucker has forewarned: He and Olympia enter the chamber to a chorus of shouts of “La Survivance!” Olympia is aware only of scores of men in gray workshirts and cloth caps calling out and raising their fists. Why are these men not at work? she wonders. Judge Littlefield, by design, enters immediately after them and swiftly takes up the gavel. He pounds sharply and impatiently upon the table before him.
“Let you make no mistake about these proceedings,” he begins, addressing the crowd. “Such outbursts will not be tolerated in this courtroom, and anyone who so much as utters a word will be thrown out forthwith. Mr. Sears, let us proceed with dispatch.” And whether it is the tension of the proceedings or his refusal to believe that anyone but Sears could be responsible for the mayhem, Littlefield is harsher in his command to Sears than he might be.
“Counsel for the respondents calls Albertine Bolduc to the stand.”
To a hum of muffled murmurs, and a severe look from Littlefield, which momentarily silences the crowd, Albertine Bolduc walks to the witness box and steps inside. It is immediately obvious to Olympia that the woman is terrified, for her hands tremble visibly. She has on the same suit and blouse as she did the day before, and she has fashioned her hair, once again, into a high pompadour with fringe at the front.
“Your Honor,” says Mr. Sears, himself dressed in a pinstriped frock coat of dark navy, the diamonds on his fingers sparkling in the electric lights, “I wish to enter into the case several exhibits.”
“Yes, Mr. Sears, go ahead.”
The chamber is large, with many rows of benches and even a gallery, which appears to be packed. On the walls are portraits of grave men with somber expressions.
“I have here a document issued by the Orphanage of Saint Andre and another by the state of New Hampshire,” says Sears. “I also have several photographs.”
“Let these documents and photographs be marked as exhibits by the clerk of the court,” Littlefield requests.
Sears lets the documents be recorded and then takes them back. Holding them close to his breast, as if they were near and dear to him,