In The Plan - 3. Chapter 3

3

Ben Carleson was negotiating on his office phone. It's what he did best, and he often told his young associates that everything they did as lawyers was a negotiation, so they'd better learn to be good at it. At that moment, Carleson was completing personal business. Five years earlier, he and his husband had bought the apartment in New York they'd been dreaming about for fifteen years - while raising their two wonderful kids in the absolutely perfect Long Island suburbs.

The apartment was also perfect. Very close to the FDR, it allowed them quick - if anything in the city was ever quick - access to either the George Washington bridge or the Triboro - now the Robert F. Kennedy. After living all his life in the New York area, he was still getting used to that change. The apartment had been in move-in condition. Carleson and his husband literally could have brought their toothbrushes and a few changes of clothes and been set. In reality, they'd refreshed the paint and thrown down new carpeting in the master and second bedrooms. That room was also their den. It could sleep five with the double pull-out bed and the daybed in the corner, and one more of their kids' friends could squeeze on the other end of the couch.

The apartment originally had three bedrooms. But the prior owner - a recidivist bachelor between sequential marriages - had converted two of the bedrooms into one beautiful master suite with a knock-out bathroom. It even had a sauna and Jacuzzi.

Carleson and his husband had bought the co-op when prices on the national market were down and even New York real estate was softer. They'd definitely hit the jackpot and were extremely happy. Then came the fire.

It wasn't in their apartment. It was one floor above them, but all the apartments in the line below it all got water damage, and they got the worst. After that came three years of litigation, with numerous lawyers, but at that moment, Carleson was negotiating with the last of his adversaries.

There was a pair of lawyers on the other side. One represented the owner of the apartment where the fire had started, and the other repped the co-op. Carleson was a hair away from settling and was "dancing" with Ryan Van Dellen, the defense lawyer for the upstairs owner. Ryan was a nice guy, and the two lawyers comfortably respected each other - as opposed to the attorney for the co-op, who Carleson regularly referred to by a name that even made his husband frown.

Carleson had been exchanging jabs with Ryan for the better part of three years, but they were in the last round, both knew it, and they also knew there'd be no trial because any good trial attorney knew when to close a deal before that. Basically, Carleson and his law-partner-husband, Edward, were trying to recapture their out-of-pocket expenses for the apartment renovation, and Carleson and Ryan were near enough in the negotiations to know that would get done.

All through this waltz, Carleson's call waiting kept beeping, whispering in his ear that he had a call on hold. While he was always interested in new business, he wasn't about to risk interrupting this negotiation. Finally, one of Carleson's assistants opened his office door just enough to stick in her head.

Carleson nodded, then waved her away. Two minutes later, she was back, and he waved her away again. Two minutes after that, she slipped completely into his office and slid a note onto his desk.

Carleson fake frowned a "thanks" and glanced at what she'd written. Still, he kept focused on Ryan. The note simply said, "Your friend Jerry called 3 times. Says he has a new case for you. Very big. Guy he works with was seriously injured in a car wreck yesterday. Call him ASAP."

Jerry worked on Wall Street. After reading the note, there was only one thing he needed to tell Ryan: "Sorry, Ryan. Gotta Go."

He smiled at his waiting assistant, gave her an air high five, and immediately called Jerry. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Took you long enough," Jerry joked.

Jerry was a life-long friend, all the way back to junior high, almost forty years earlier. He'd worked in finance since college, getting a three-year jump on Carleson who'd detoured to law school. Now, they were financially matched.

"Hard to believe," Carleson poked back. "But there are some calls even more important than yours."

"So how is Edward?" Jerry kidded.

"It wasn't Edward."

Jerry sidestepped that and began to tell Carleson about Doug Hodges. "He's a great guy - our pro in IT. You know how many networks we have - how many computers - and how much we depend on them. Well, he keeps everything in line. Over the years, the two of us have kind of developed a friendship."

"What happened?" Carleson gently cut through. He was fond of even telling his kids, "Just give me the deposition version."

"He got smashed up in a car wreck last night. Lots of everything broken - all the way down his left side. Leg. Hip. Fingers. Jaw. Nose. Cheek. Handful of teeth knocked loose."

"Whew. Brain damage?"

"Not that I've heard. But his ex said at first that she didn't recognize him."

"His ex?"

"Yeah. That's who they called first. The divorce was a couple of years back, but they're still friendly."

"Was she in the car?"

"No. Of course not. She would've been smashed up, too."

"Was he driving?"

"I don't think so. It's not clear yet. He was with one of his bar friends. In that guy's car."

"Were they both drunk?"

"Pam - Doug's ex - barely talked about that - or the accident. She was too worried - Doug nearly died. One of their sons was with her when she called - and Doug's sister. They'd all just come back from the hospital. Though Doug's sister told me a little about the accident later. I'd left a message on Doug's cell phone but got no answer, so I left another at the house. His sister picked that up and relayed it to Pam. But, in between, she called."

Jerry could talk. Carleson was used to that, and it was usually fine - actually, it was comforting. But not on business. "Where is he?" Carleson asked.

"Doug?"

"Yeah."

"In the hospital. Like I said."

"Which one?"

"Oh. I think Franklin General. I think that was closest."

"Where was the accident?"

"Mill and Peninsula. At the shopping center where I worked in the bagel store in high school." He laughed.

"Home base," Carleson said, laughing along. It was practically where they grew up.

"That's why I called you," Jerry added. "You're the first person I thought of."

"Thanks."

"You'll pay me back."

"But only in dinners. That Edward and I would've taken you and Candice out to anyway."

"Better than your cooking."

"Anything else?" Carleson pushed on.

Jerry seemed to think. "That's about it. I heard about the accident. Called. Pam called. She told me what she knew and almost without thinking mentioned Doug might need a lawyer."

"That was her idea? What did he think?"

"He wasn't thinking at all - unfortunately. He came in unconscious, and I'm not sure when he came out of that. But he's pretty doped up now."

"Not good."

"No."

They were silent a moment, as if reflecting on that. Then Carleson said, "I'm on this. Thanks."

"Good. And don't mess up," Jerry jabbed. "I told Pam you were one of the most prominent personal injury lawyers in New York."

"You couldn't just've said 'the best?'"

Jerry laughed. "She said she trusted me completely - might even've said 'implicitly.' And she promised to call you this afternoon. After she talked with their sons. I gave her your cell and office numbers."

"I'll stand by."

"Great. Talk to you soon. Happier stuff, I hope. Love to Edward."

"And Candice."

"Yeah."

After he hung up, Carleson looked at the notes he'd been taking. There wasn't much, and he did a quick Internet search to see if the accident had been reported in the news or the papers. Still nothing, and there was no point in trying to dig deeper till he was sure that was needed. Besides, he had plenty to do in his office.

And that's where he stayed for the rest of the afternoon, waiting for Pam Hodges to call - if that was still the name she used. Still, he couldn't get his mind off this "whale" of a case.

In Las Vegas or Atlantic City, a "whale" was the biggest type of player - one who could win or lose over a million dollars during a few days' stay. Among personal injury lawyers, a "whale" was the perfect case: Liability. Injuries. Insurance coverage. Two of the three were already lined up.

Doug Hodges was a passenger in the car. Liability. Meaning the accident was someone else's fault, and Hodges would be able to collect.

Next, injuries or damages. From what Jerry had said, Hodges sustained very serious - maybe even life-threatening - injuries. That equated to a large recovery.

The only remaining question was the amount of the insurance coverage. That would complete the trio.

Actually there was one more question. Would the phone ring?

At 5: 45, as Carleson was walking out of his office, his cell phone rang. He looked down, saw an unfamiliar number, and answered.

"Hello? Mr. Carleson?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yes. This is Ben Carleson."

"My name is Pamela Hodges. I'm Doug Hodges ex-wife. Jerry Novotny from his office gave me your numbers this afternoon. I hope it's all right to call your cell."

"Of course, it is. How's Doug doing?"

"He's very banged up, I'm afraid. Broken bones throughout his body. He'll be in the hospital for a while and then in rehab."

"How can I help?"

"Well, Jerry said you're a very good lawyer. And I think maybe Doug needs one."

"From what Jerry told me, I'm afraid you might be right."

"Could you talk with him?"

"I'd like that," Carleson said. But he was concerned. "Is he really ready? Is he even able to talk? From what Jerry said, Doug's been unconscious."

"He came out of that this afternoon. We were all so relieved. That's why I didn't call you any sooner."

"Well, if he's ready, I can meet him whenever you are. Or if one of your sons or his sister is there."

"Jerry told you a lot."

"He's thorough."

Maybe Pamela Hodges was thinking about that. She seemed to be thinking about something because she'd been quiet.

"Well, Doug's sleeping right now..." she'd continued.

"Then is tomorrow too soon? Obviously, I'll come to the hospital. Will you be there?"

"Yes... along with one of our sons. The other's in the Navy."

"I hope he's safe."

"Yes. I talked with him this morning. He was a little stunned. These things don't happen to your dad."

"They aren't supposed to happen to anyone."

Pamela Hodges agreed, and soon after, Carleson took the hospital name and room details she gave him. Then she said, "We'll see you at 10:00 tomorrow."

"I look forward to that."

Pocketing his phone, Carleson locked his now-empty office. The call had been short, but he was still the last one at work. He walked slowly to his car and as slowly drove home. He wasn't being cautious because of what had happened to Doug Hodges and wasn't superstitious about accidents - he couldn't be in his profession. But he had a lot to think about.

"I've got an interesting case," he said to his husband, over dinner. "Potential case."

Edward smiled at that. Nothing was sure in their world till it was done, preferably successfully. He didn't work in personal injury law, but sometimes his field - real estate law - changed as much - and as quickly.

They were in one of their usual restaurants, this one Japanese. They had a dozen local 'favorites' they rotated through, and those were just the ones near their house in Hewlett. In the city, they were always trying new places they'd read or heard about. Since their daughter had started college at Syracuse, they'd cooked less and stayed in the city more, but not that night. Still, their house was often empty because their son was finishing his junior year at Michigan.

"How 'potential?'" Edward soon asked, and Carleson considered.

"I don't know," he admitted. Then he smiled. "Fairly potential, I think. I put it at a 7. I'm meeting the client - and his family - in the morning. And you know I always have a retainer agreement close by."

Edward laughed. "You have a retainer everywhere - even in the bathroom. 'Just in case,'" he gently mimicked. "I've seen you pull one out on the ski slopes."

"Where better?" Carleson joked. "And how else do we pay for skiing? Those lift tickets are a bear."

They both laughed at that. "Just remember," Edward warned. "There's a fine line between being confident and being presumptuous."

"Ha!" Carleson replied. "I drew that line."