Phire: I’m Just Saying (Prologue)

Twenty-eight years ago

Twenty-six-year-old Dorothy Palmer reached her car just as the rain began to fall. The freedom of having her own transportation rather than having to catch the bus home was welcomed on days like this, even if her ride was on its last leg. Wouldn’t you know, her boss asked her to work late on the first stormy night of the summer?  Nothing new, the overtime would help. She had a two-year-old at home, who she loved with all her heart. He was worth a few extra hours. Thank goodness she had a very understanding sitter. She smiled. Who was she fooling? Her mother loved having the extra time with Lawrence. Dot, as her friends called her, had to smile whenever she thought of her son. At two he was an amazing little boy, walking and talking as if he was a mini version of his father.

Larry. It wasn’t that long ago that his name made her heart flutter. Now, just the thought of him brought her to tears. How could she have been so stupid? The man wined and dined her for months before she fell completely in love. Or so she thought. Eighteen months later, Dot was surprised to discover she was pregnant. The thrill of having a human growing inside of her was there the moment she shared her news with the man she loved. That was when she discovered the other side of Lawrence Trent.

The first blow knocked her to the floor. By the third kick to her back, the lights went out. Dot awakened the next day in the hospital with her mother by her side. By the grace of God, she did not lose the baby. Her mother indicated that was a sign of a determined child coming to life.

Dot remembered feeling so ashamed as her mother held her hand during those days she spent in the hospital. Natalie Palmer had worked two jobs to send her to school where she earned an engineering degree. The day she graduated, Gruber Technologies hired her. That was a very proud day for Dot and her mother. Less than two years later she laid in a hospital bed, pregnant and beaten by the man who was supposed to love her forever.

It turned out the man she knew as Larry had two children and a wife. His wife of ten years, Leanne Gruber-Trent was the daughter of Ascott Gruber, the owner of Gruber Technologies, the company where she and Larry worked – or so she thought. As it turned out, Larry was doing a little undercover boss crap to determine who was loyal to the company.

On Dot’s third day in the hospital, representatives visited her from human resources and revealed a report signed by Lawrence Trent. His findings indicated she had shared design secrets with their competitor and should be relieved of duty. She was also informed she would be charged with espionage if she did not sign a document indicating she would not bring any charges of assault or paternity against Gruber or any of its executive officers.

Dot shook her head, wondering why that memory filled her mind today. Maybe it was the letter sent to the private P.O. box she knew Larry owned, requesting financial assistance for their son. There had been no contact between them since the night she told him about the baby. She had found another job, nowhere near as lucrative as before, for Gruber refused to give her a recommendation. However, it was enough for her to get by. It was Lawrence who needed things that she could not provide. She thought, if Larry knew the difficult time she was having, he would be willing to help, just a little. Her letter indicated she had no plans to do anything that would cause him any undue stress, like seek child support through the traditional channels. She only wanted some help for their son.

“Oh well,” she sighed, then started the car. “All right, baby, get mommy home,” she said then pulled into ongoing traffic. Dot was less than fifteen minutes away from the joy of her life, Lawrence. She had asked her mother to fix his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. She would be home in time to give him his bath, play a little; and then Natalie would usually read to him before putting him to bed. She was crossing the 14th Street Bridge when her car simply exploded.

Dorothy Palmer had no way of knowing Lawrence Trent stood in the window of the 30th floor office of Gruber Technologies with a remote in his hand, watching as she burned to death on that bridge.

A month after the death of her daughter, Natalie Palmer sat in the living room of her two-bedroom apartment in the Blackwell area of Richmond with her two-year-old grandson at her side. They were doing what she had done with Dot every evening right after dinner, read a book to Lawrence. Each time she began reading she would tell her grandson the book was from his mother and the conversation was always the same.

“Is Mommy coming home?”

“Your mommy is home with her heavenly father. He is watching over her as she watches over you.”

“Can you make him send her back to us?”

“No, baby, Granny can’t do that. But when you get older, I want you to make the man who took her away pay for his sins.”

“What’s a sin?”

“Anything that goes against God’s word.”

“Okay.” It would take him a moment, but the next question always came. “Who is God?”

“The man whose son died on the cross so we may live.”

“We like him, Granny?”

“No, baby. We love him.”

On this particular day, the conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Lawrence jumped up and ran towards the door. “Who is that, Granny?”

“Well wait, Lawrence.” Natalie laughed at the expression on the little boy’s face. “I will have to open the door to find out,” she said as she walked towards him. Pulling him behind her, Natalie opened the door to see a package on the porch. Picking it up, she looked around.

“A man in that black car dropped it on your stoop, Mrs. Palmer, then pulled off,” one of the neighborhood boys told her.

“A man? What did he look like?”

“Like a runner,” the other boy replied. “I got his license plate number if you want it.”

Natalie nodded as she looked at the package. “Thank you, Al.”

“You good, Mrs. Palmer? Do you need anything?”

“Nah, but God didn’t promise me rainbows and sunshine every day.”

“How is Lawrence doing?”

“He misses his mom.”

Al nodded. “No bad deed goes unpunished, Mrs. Palmer. If you need help with Lawrence, holler.”

“Looks like this one has.”

“It just seems that way right now. The truth will find its way to the light,” Al replied. “You always told me that. Now you got to believe.”

Natalie smiled. “You two behave yourselves. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Natalie closed the door then looked at the manila envelope with Lawrence Trent Palmer in care of Natalie Palmer written on the front.

“Well, it looks like something for you, Lawrence.”

The little boy started jumping up and down with excitement. “For me, for me.”

“Yes.” Natalie took his hand as they walked to the sofa and sat down, then opened the package. There was a letter and a white envelope. The letter read:

This is an effort to right a wrong. It is not much, however, I believe you will do right by your grandchild. An appointment has been made for you to meet with Carlton London of London, Wyeth and Brown Attorneys at Law tomorrow morning at 9 am. Mr. London has instructions.

Natalie read the note again. It made less sense the second time than it did the first time. Lawrence continued to bounce on the sofa beside her.

“What is it, Granny? What is it?”

“Hold on, Lawrence, Granny has to read,” she said without taking her eyes off the note. She placed the letter on the table, then opened the envelope. There was a cashier’s check for $100,000. Natalie stood straight up staring at the check. “Oh, my lord.”

“What, Granny?”

It was as if she had hit the lottery. The check was written to Lawrence Trent Palmer in c/o London, Wyeth and Brown. She looked down at her grandson, who looked back excitedly with golden tinted brown eyes, then back at the check. “It’s something for your future, baby.”

The little boy frowned up at her. “Can I play with it?”

Natalie began laughing. “No, baby, it’s not a toy.”

“Then what is it?”

The question caused her to pause. She frowned, then became angry. “I don’t know, Lawrence. But I’m sure as hell going to find out tomorrow morning. You better believe that.”

“You said a bad word, Granny. You mad?”

Natalie blinked, then placed the check and the letter back inside the manila envelope. She placed it on the table, bent over and picked up Lawrence, then sat him back beside her the way they were before the knock interrupted their story time.

“I’m not mad at you, baby.” She pulled him closer, then opened the book. “Don’t ever let anyone buy your silence. There is no price on your integrity. You understand?”

Lawrence shook his head no.

Natalie couldn’t help but smile. “You will when you grow up.”

The next morning Natalie left LT with the boy Al, and was sitting in the office of Carlton London by 9 am.

“I must say, Mrs. Palmer, I was a bit surprised by your message on yesterday,” Carlton London said as he walked behind his desk to take a seat. “Your retainer was more than sufficient for the services you are requesting.”

The statement knocked a little bit of the wind out of Natalie, for she was ready to lay into the man for thinking he could buy her silence about her daughter’s death. However, it seemed Mr. London had no more idea on what was happening than she did.

“Will you be kind enough to review that request with me?”

“Of course. As I understand it, you are requesting London, Wyeth and Brown to handle the trust for your grandson, a” he picked up a sheet of paper, “Lawrence Palmer, to be fully vested upon entrance into a university of his choice and disbursed as needed for educational expenses or at the age of twenty-one if he chooses not to further his education.”

“Un—hun.” Natalie stared at the man.

Carlton London stared back at her. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Natalie replied, but said nothing more for a long moment. “Mr. London, how much do you charge per hour?”

“My hourly rate is $1,500, however, your retainer is more than sufficient to cover our services for a number of years.”

“Un—hun.” Natalie was silent again. “So.” She sat forward. “I just want to make sure I have this right.”

“Yes?”

Mr. London looked expectantly at her, however, Natalie wanted to make sure she asked the question in the right way. “Since I gave you the retainer does that mean you work for me?”

“Yes, in fact I have our service agreement written up for your signature.” He picked up a folder from his desk and opened it. “Would you like to review it before we begin?”

“Yes, I would.” Natalie took the document from his hand and began to follow along as he read.

“Is that to your satisfaction, Mrs. Palmer?”

Shell shocked, Natalie nodded. “Lawrence will receive interest annually and an accounting of the trust.”

“Yes, ma’am. We can make that semiannually if you prefer.”

“Un—hun.” Natalie thought about that. “Yes, Mr. London, I would prefer it that way. Send the accounting every six months, the check once a year.”

“As you wish. It seems we will be working together for a number of years, please call me Carlton.”

Natalie nodded. “Very well, Carlton.” She reached inside her purse, pulled out the check and gave it to Carlton.

Carlton placed the check inside the folder. “You have no idea what this is all about, do you, Mrs. Palmer?”

“No,” Natalie admitted. “It seems whoever put this together is trying to look out for my grandson’s future.”

“Would you like for my firm to dig a little deeper so we both will know who and what we are dealing with?”

“I’m not a wealthy person, Carlton. I can’t afford $1500 a year much less an hour.”

“This will be Pro Bono. If I’m going to be a part of a plan, regardless of how generous it may be, I like to know who I’m working for and with. However, I will not proceed without your permission.”

“Do you think it would interfere with Lawrence’s future?”

“I will be discrete.”

“Okay then. Please check into it. I need to know who is pulling the strings around here.”