He wasn’t hiding me, Ivan.
He was disqualifying me.”
She pulled out her phone — a smartphone, which she used better than I did, another thing my father had conveniently forgotten — and she made a call.
“Margaret,” she said warmly. “It’s Eleanor. Yes, it’s been too long. Listen — I need my favorite attorney, and I need her today. It’s about Arthur.
Yes.
That kind of about Arthur.”
She hung up and looked at me.
“Thirty-one years at that firm,” she said, with the ghost of a smile. “You don’t think I made a few friends?”
PART 3
Margaret Okafor had been a young associate at the firm where my grandmother ran the office, decades ago.
Grandma had, in Margaret’s words, “taught me where the bodies were buried and how to file them correctly.” Now Margaret was a senior partner, and she cleared her afternoon the moment she heard Eleanor’s voice.
We met her at her office.
