In this novella, a freshly minted attorney at a prestigious firm becomes suspicious that his superiors are involved in a fraudulent scheme.
Adam Chauncey is as green as a lawyer can get, occupying the lowest rung on the ladder at Smithson and Dwyer, one of the toniest firms in Chicago. He’s invited to lunch by a senior partner, Bill Evans, a strange request that sparks another: The veteran attorney asks Adam to become a co-executor of a will he’s in charge of and refuses to name the document’s author. Naïve and quick to please a superior, Adam reflexively agrees. Suddenly, when Evans shows signs of cognitive diminishment and steps aside, Adam finds himself in charge of a will that represents a considerable estate, one formerly owned by Percy Landsman. The will is complex and peculiar—Percy has left much of his largesse to his estranged brother, Eric, and mentions his “original birth family.” Adam discovers Percy was the product of an illicit affair between an unknown father and a Latine house maid. With tantalizing suspense, Gilbert follows Adam’s gathering suspicions that something is amiss at his own firm, especially when he finds, with the help of Sally Warren—a paralegal for whom he develops romantic affections—a copy of the will. The duplicate document features contradictory scrawled notes. When he turns to his bosses for clarity, he encounters a “conspiracy of silence” or vague threats.
The author skillfully combines an utterly dark subject matter—the furtive exploitation of the dead—with generally lightsome prose and plenty of comic relief, often conveyed in the flirtatious banter between Adam and Sally. They are outsiders in this world of powerful privilege. With great delicacy, Gilbert explores the ways in which both of them are simultaneously (and contradictorily) repulsed by this cosmos and pine to belong to it. In fact, they’re eventually faced with a stark moral dilemma that compels them to choose either their upwardly mobile ambitions or their sense of decency. It’s intriguing to see Adam, an “innocent, gangly young lawyer,” transform from a callow dupe into a more mature man who reflects with depth on what motivates him. When Sally suggests he might be inspired by a sense of justice, he’s uncertain: “That’s a nice way of putting it, but I’m not sure of my motivation anymore, except that something bothered me from the start—and is still bothering me. I thought I had put it to rest. But I guess I hadn’t. And I don’t like the feeling.” While there’s obviously a potent moral dimension to Gilbert’s tale, this is not the literary expression of some stale lesson drawn from a catechism, or a simplistic parable offered in a professorial spirit of didacticism. The author avoids any hint of tendentious proselytizing or facile reductionism. This is a marvelous novella, piercingly intelligent yet thoroughly unpretentious.
An absorbing legal thriller that’s both powerful and delightfully nuanced.