South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [51]
The office of Henry Merrill, Esq., was in an old storefront on Crosscut’s main street. The windows were perpetually dusty, and one had a long crack in the bottom corner. Henry hadn’t done what a lot of men might do with a law degree, hadn’t made a big financial success of it, but instead had come back Up north to offer his services to whoever might need them every day of the week but Sunday. It wasn’t really that he was so devoted to the law or so swamped with clients that he had to work six days out of seven. It was more that he did better keeping busy, keeping to a routine. It helped hold the black dogs of thought at bay. Also he had learned that a person could be happy with having done the best they could Under the circumstances. It didn’t always have to be bright and shiny and impressive to the outside observer. This shabby office in Crosscut was his life, and he didn’t mind that.
“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Gladys Hansen!” Henry said when Gladys came in his door.
“Henry,” Gladys answered in her schoolmarmish way.
He grinned. Gladys had been his Sunday school teacher about a hundred years ago, when he was growing Up in McAllaster, and was also his buddy Frank Junior’s ma. Henry’d made a point of going to see her every time he was home, after he got back from Vietnam. That was a hellish time. He was a wreck pretending to be a man, and she hadn’t been much better, especially when her husband died not too long after Frank Junior.
Gladys was the one who’d hounded him to go to college. What’s the point? he had asked her. He wasn’t asking idly, or rebelliously, but just hopelessly. She punched the kitchen table so hard the kerosene lamp in the middle jumped and the chimney shattered. What’s the point of anything? You just keep going. You do things. It’s the only way. We’re alive. Frank’s dead. He doesn’t get the chance ever again.
Henry graduated from the University of Michigan School of Law eight years later.
Henry liked Gladys and he knew she was fond of him. Sometimes he could make her laugh, even. “What can I do for you?” he asked now.
Gladys laid it out for him: Emil’s trailer, the Village government, the zoning board. Henry made a face. “Zoning can be tough. I’m not saying Emil couldn’t fight it and win, but it wouldn’t be easy. And it’d be costly.”
Gladys made a frustrated sound.
“Can they prove the trailer’s Unsafe?”
“I don’t know. Probably, if they want to.”
“The only thing I can think of offhand is to check for a grandfather clause, something to exclude those who are preexisting from the new ordinance. And the other thing to keep in mind is that the Village might not have the money to enforce the order. Especially if he put Up any kind of fight.”
“Well now. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“I’d be glad to draft a letter. Never hurts to have a little something arriving in the mail from an attorney. Give them something to think about.”
“Yes,” Gladys said, sitting Up straighter.
“If it came to an actual drawn-out fight, that’d be another thing. He might not have a leg to stand on. But if he could scare them off right at the outset. It’s no guarantee, but—”
“Better than nothing. Thank you for seeing me, Henry. What do I owe you?”
“Not a thing. I didn’t do anything. A letter wouldn’t take me ten minutes to draft. You just give me a call if it seems like a good idea. Talk to Emil.”
“Now, Henry, I insist—”
“Not a chance,” he said, holding Up a hand. “I’m always glad to see you, Gladys. Who else ever made me sit Up and pay attention?”
Gladys headed next to the grocery store. As long as she’d driven all this way she might as well make the most of her trip. Madeline didn’t leave for work Until nearly noon and even if Gladys didn’t get back Until a bit later than that, it would be all right. Arbutus was doing so much better that they really were thinking that maybe she could go back to her own house by the Fourth of July, at least for the summer and fall, despite that little slip she’d had the other day. Butte hadn’t gotten hurt, after all. They’d even laughed about it at first.