Unnatural Acts

19

Bobby Bentley met his father for dinner at his club, the Brook, on East Fifty-fourth Street in Manhattan, a monthly occurrence. They sat down in the library for drinks. Bobby was his father’s only son, a surprise product of his second marriage to a much younger woman, with the result that Robert Eaton Bentley II (Bobby was III) was old enough to be his son’s grandfather.

“Well, my boy,” II said. “How are things at the venerable firm of Woodman and Weld?” This was an ironic question, since II regarded the firm as a bunch of wild-eyed, liberal arrivistes, mainly because its birth did not predate his own. Still they represented him in some things. “You’ve been there, what, all of a week?”

“Ten days, Dad,” Bobby replied. “And I’ve had a wonderful break.”

“I would be interested to know what you regard as ‘a break,’” his father said.

“Instead of being assigned to work for a partner, I’ve been assigned to the firm’s newest senior associate, a young man named Herbert Fisher.”

“If you had let me know, I could have made a call and put that right,” his father said.

“Although he’s thirtyish, Herb Fisher graduated from law school two years ago, and he’s the first associate ever to make senior associate in less than three years.”

“He sounds green as grass,” II said. “Why would any client hire him?”

“He was promoted three days ago, and he’s already brought in two important clients.”

“What do you mean by ‘important’?”

“A hot software start-up, backed by Marshall Brennan, and a new subsidiary of Strategic Services.”

II blinked. “Marshall Brennan and Mike Freeman, of Strategic Services, are both members of this club.”

“That’s what I meant by important,” Bobby said. His father did not impress easily, and he was enjoying the moment. “I think this software firm is something you should keep an eye on,” he said. “They’ll eventually have an IPO, and it could be a big one.”

II withdrew an alligator-clad jotter from his pocket and uncapped his fountain pen. “Herbert Fisher, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the name of the software company?”

“High Cotton Ideas.”

II displayed a small smile. “I like the name.”

“The great thing about working for Herb,” Bobby said, “is that instead of learning to be an associate, I’ll be learning to be an attorney, and Herb has a broad idea of what that means.” He told him about the experience of watching his boss get High Cotton organized.

II regarded his son with an expression of wonder. “I rather thought that you’d be laboring in the law library and logging sixty billable hours a week for five or six years.”

“As I said earlier, I got a break.”

“I would like to meet Herbert Fisher,” II said. “Can you arrange that?”

Bobby glanced at his watch. “I rather thought you would like to meet him. He’ll be joining us for a drink about…” Bobby looked up to see a retainer showing Herb Fisher into the room. “Now.”

II swiveled his head to take in the door. “My goodness,” he said, rising to greet his unexpected guest.

Bobby made the introduction, and they sat down again.

The retainer hovered.

“Knob Creek on ice,” Herbie said to the man, “if you please.”

“That’s what I’m drinking,” II said to Herbie.

“It’s the patriotic thing to do,” Herbie replied, echoing what Stone had once said to him. “A fine American whiskey.”

“My son has been telling me of your exploits at Woodman and Weld,” II said.

“‘Exploits’ is a colorful word to describe such a short career,” Herbie said.

“There’s nothing wrong with a young man’s being in a hurry, Mr. Fisher,” II said, “as long as he doesn’t take too many shortcuts along the way.”

Herbie smiled. “Choosing one’s shortcuts carefully is always a good idea. I wouldn’t like to get caught off base.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Bentley said. “I know it’s short notice, but do you think you could join Bobby and me for dinner here?”

“Thank you, sir, I’d like that.”

Bobby excused himself and went to the men’s room.

“Your son is a very bright young man,” Herbie said. “He doesn’t have to be told twice what to do. I think he’s going to do very well.”

“It pleases me to hear you say that, Mr. Fisher. I worried when he decided to go into the law. I suppose I had some hopes of his joining the family firm.”

“What is the family firm?” Herbie asked.

“The Bentley Company. We manufacture precision machine parts for the oil, aircraft, and aerospace industries.”

“Of course,” Herbie said. “I think I read something in Fortune a few months ago about the company.”

“I’m the third generation,” II said.

“Perhaps Bobby will be the fourth yet,” Herbie said, “but I think he needs to prove himself in an unconnected field first.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, I surmised it.”

“Well, Mr. Fisher, you’ve given me new hope.”

Bobby returned.

“Shall we go in to dinner?” II asked, rising. The two younger men followed him to the dining room, where they were given a corner table.

Herbie noticed that Mr. Bentley took the gunfighter’s seat, facing the room. They received menus and ordered, and Bentley chose an expensive French claret for them.

“Tell me, Mr. Fisher,” II said, “what would you do if a client of yours found themselves faced with an unjust and potentially dangerous lawsuit? Do you have any experience with commercial litigation?”

“We’re a large enough firm to have people experienced in every area of the law,” Herbie said. “I think of myself as a generalist. If my client were faced with such a problem I would assemble an expert team from the firm’s partners and act as liaison between them and my client.”

“That’s a very sensible way to proceed for someone in your position,” II said.

Their dinner arrived, and II led the discussion from one subject to another for an hour. When coffee arrived, he said, “You know, I had hoped that when Bobby had acquired some experience at his firm, I might ask him to represent the firm in some area or other. I had thought that some years might pass before I had the opportunity to do that, but since he’s obviously found a good place to be in the firm, maybe I can make it happen more quickly.”

“I would be happy to help in any way I can,” Herbie said, “and I’m sure Bobby would, too. We can put the best of Woodman and Weld at your disposal.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” II said, then ordered them a fine brandy.