Chapter 23: Working in the Sun

Before I went back to Roxbury, I needed a change of clothes. We drove up to Hooksett, gathered wardrobe and drove back. On the way south, we stopped for gas in Nashua. The station had the usual real estate books. Standing in line, waiting for the attendant, I was struck by the thought that I might be spending a lot of time in, or commuting to, Boston. Nashua was about thirty minutes closer than Hooksett, and it skipped all the Manchester traffic. On the other hand, it was over half an hour from Concord, should I need to visit the Capital. I shelved the idea for the moment, but it would return.

My new meeting was in the same bar, but almost everything else had changed. Ms. Conor was less combative, but her forces were much larger. Veronica was sober and showing it. They may have tried to keep tabs on me, because one of them asked where I had been. I told them one of the Cabots, on Beacon Hill, asked me to sleep over. They thought that was funny. When I told them I went to New Hampshire for some clothes, that was more acceptable.

I was wearing the same men's slacks and worn leather jacket, but the top was Michael Kors and the shoes were Naturalizer. My outfit was comfortable. I think one of the women picked up on it, but fuck looking poor to make a point. After a late evening with Adele Cabot, these people were not scary.

Everyone wanted to know about Elspeth. I said she was my assistant. No one pressed the issue. Elspeth looked the part by taking notes. There was a lot of discussion to make notes from. Ms. Conor, or one of her people, had done the digging I had suggested.

It took some time to get everyone up to speed, which let me browse what they were not saying aloud. The short version was that they did not believe my story, quite. However, they could not figure out any other reason to explain why I was there. It was a place to start. When I had the chance, I jumped in.

"You probably have trouble believing I am here to do what I say I am here to do. First point, why bother lying? Lawyers are quite capable of threatening in other ways. Second point. This is not the kind of case that makes law firms look good to their clients. They will do what they are paid to do, but there is a nuisance value. Making this situation go away will make them look good. Hence me. I am here to see if this", waving of hands, "can all be reduced to a number on a check."

You would think I suggested four-legged animals in their family tree. Insults and offers of violence were the least of the blowback. I did not care. I was watching the queen bee. Ms. Conor understood that I was being frank. It would be her job to keep everyone in line. I did not envy her that. We exchanged glances. She knew. She also knew that I understood what she had to do. There was a tiny hint of a nod. Good enough for the day.

Elspeth and I left. As we left, I pointed Veronica out to her. She and Veronica exchanged looks. When we were outside I called Sidney Rice, my contact at MBC&L. I told him that I had made contact and that they would discuss it. He wanted more detail. I told him that he could wait until I actually knew something. Elspeth asked for the phone. She told him that I was on a first name basis with Adele. That shut him up. There is nothing like friends in high places.

Four days later, I made the drive south from Hooksett, alone this time. Because of the bridge under construction, traffic in Manchester was down to a one-lane crawl. Nashua was starting to look better and better. In south Boston, we met in the now familiar bar. For once I had food. The sandwich was exactly why I do not eat at bars.

Ms. Conor told me that she needed a ballpark figure. Uh uh. I needed to know what she could do, before we worked on how much. We argued a bit. When I picked up my briefcase, she looked at me sideways. She asked me if I had really gone to Beacon Hill. I told her I didn't know. It was just an address on the GPS. She was frowning as I left.

Going north, I got off the main road to take a look at Nashua. It was not unlike New Jersey, rolling hills full of trees. The small-city-next-to-the-Big-City vibe was almost identical. There was history here, as with most of New England. However, most was further north, along the rivers. Recently it was a bedroom region for greater Boston. You should take a look at the street maps. The state line cuts off the sub-divisions like a knife.

What was not the same was house pricing. Compared to northern New Jersey, one could buy a lot of house for one's money. During my time in school, I was used to working six and a half day weeks. By that standard, I had a lot of downtime. Poking around in the Nashua real estate market could be a nice distraction. I quickly ruled out the lower third of Hillsborough county. That was elbow to elbow sub-divisions. I was looking for an interesting property, not glorified cookie cutter houses.

I spent the next week in the Capital, looking for business. Friday, I arranged a weekend meeting in south Boston. Since there was time, I decided to test Nashua. Before I did that, I took some time to check with my investment adviser. Setting up a business had been harsh enough already. For real estate, even an earnest payment would be outside my usual spending limits. Adele Cabot would have told me to live on the income of my income. I resolved to look for the kind of house she might visit.

Most people look for a house by starting with the school, shopping and job locations. Hence the phrase, "Location, location, location." I resolved to take a different approach. I started by looking for history. Like most riverside cities in New England, Nashua once had important textile factories. They would have been the town royalty. Several of the old textile families' townhomes were historical sites. Many of the factories had been torn down. Others were converted to pricey loft apartments. There was not much down that road.

Another business name kept coming up—Gregg Lumber, Gregg & Son Planing Mill, Gregg & Son, Door, Sash & Blind Mfy, Gregg & Son, Inc. The Gregg name was still prominent in the Nashua area. One was an accountant with a downtown office. He was too busy to talk, but referred me to his widowed aunt, Edna Gregg.