Kiah Harmon
I have to be honest, and I know it makes me sound like a terrible snob – or worse, a complete sceptic – but when Sam told me that the van Eyck family reunion was to be held in New Orleans, the first picture that came into my mind was a motel somewhere on the way to Lafayette. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The venue turned out to be no less than the Intercontinental Hotel, from where the French Quarter was just a short stroll across Canal Street. The van Eyck family obviously did things in style.
Someone had negotiated group rates for the rooms, and the hotel had put a sizeable conference room at the family’s disposal for a plenary business meeting on the first morning. As she had promised, Sam had been in contact with the group we were calling the cheerleaders, and had arranged for us to be on the agenda for the meeting. What our reception was likely to be she couldn’t predict, but at least we would get a hearing. The cheerleaders knew that the lawsuit had been filed; the news had been spreading like a bush fire via emails and social media. There had already been a few calls and emails to the office from family members who couldn’t attend the reunion but were interested in what we were doing. There was a definite buzz in the air. One or two local radio stations had picked it up, and Sam and I had fitted in a couple of quick phone interviews before we left Arlington.
Sam had arrived in New Orleans on the Thursday, two days before the start of the reunion, and I followed with Arlene and Powalski on the following afternoon. As Arlene had predicted, Powalski had jumped at the chance to work with us. Like me, he found the case irresistible, and I had the impression that being on the opposite side to the government also had its attractions for him. We had worked out a flexible agreement. He would work as and when needed, and would give me an estimate of the time he thought he would need for any particular assignment. Very generously, he had offered to donate his time in New Orleans during the reunion, to get things off to a good start.
Sam met us in the lobby within two minutes of our climbing out of the taxi we had taken from the airport. She helped us check in and took us up to our rooms. The family’s block of rooms were on the eighth and ninth floors, but Sam had talked the hotel into giving us a suite with two bedrooms on the tenth floor for Arlene, me and herself. It worked out cheaper for us than having our own rooms and the suite also had a good-sized living room where we could work and organise the paperwork we had brought with us. Sam and I agreed to share one bedroom, which had twin beds, leaving the other with the queen-size for Arlene. Powalski had the room next door. As we unpacked, Sam told us that there was work to do that evening.
‘The cheerleaders have an organising committee,’ she explained. ‘The committee is in charge of planning everything that goes on during the reunion, including the business meeting tomorrow morning. I had a cup of coffee with them this morning, to introduce myself. They would like to meet with you this evening.’
‘We’re already on the agenda for the meeting, aren’t we?’ I asked.
‘Yes, we are. But the committee wants to hear about the lawsuit from the horse’s mouth before tomorrow. It’s probably just because they are the committee, and they want to feel important. But it could make a difference. If we can get them onside, I think it will make it a lot easier for us at the business meeting.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I have no problem with that. Did you arrange a time?’
Sam reached into the large handbag she was carrying.
‘Yes, six fifteen in the bar. I have copies of the program for you. The only event this evening is a welcoming cocktail reception at seven o’clock. After that, everybody goes their separate ways for dinner. So they are setting aside forty-five minutes for us before the reception.’
‘That should be enough,’ I said. ‘What’s happening the rest of the weekend?’
‘The plenary business meeting is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, Saturday. The afternoon is for people to get together in groups and catch up. Tomorrow evening, reception and sit-down dinner for everyone, seven for seven thirty. Sunday morning in groups, catching up again, then a closing lunch at noon, after which everyone goes back home.’
‘Do we know how many folks are attending?’ Arlene asked.
Sam fiddled in her handbag again.
‘Eighty-two. I have a list with names and email addresses.’
Arlene smiled. ‘Way to go, girl. That’s a pretty good number, don’t you think, y’all?’
I did. Of course, it was a small fraction of the number of potential plaintiffs, but these were the activists. If we could get them excited about the case, they would bring the others out of the woodwork. The list showed that they were widely spread across the country. We had fifteen states represented, including eight family members in the DC area, which was the first thing I looked for. Not a bad start at all.
‘Powalski and I have to try to talk to as many of them as possible during their unsupervised play periods tomorrow afternoon and Sunday morning,’ Arlene was saying. ‘Any reason we couldn’t just set up in the lobby?’
‘I think that’s the best way,’ I replied. ‘Everybody has to pass through the lobby. If you are hiding away in a room, they have to come and find you. In the lobby, you can find them.’
‘We need to talk to them to give them more information?’ Sam asked.
‘That, and to get information from them,’ Arlene said. ‘Leastways, that’s Powalski’s job. Mine is to sign as many of them up as I can, and extort money from them. I’ll have my laptop, so they can sign up to be plaintiffs right there and then. If they won’t do it right away, there’s a form they can download from the website, or they can get one from me and send it in the old-fashioned way, by mail. One way or the other, I’ll get them.’
Sam laughed. ‘I bet you will, too.’
‘You can count on it, hun.’
‘Who are the committee members?’ I asked.
‘We are meeting with three this evening,’ Sam replied. ‘I think there may be a couple of others, but they’re not getting in until later tonight. There’s Joe Kenney, retired stockbroker, now lives in West Palm Beach, Florida. He and my dad knew each other, so we should be OK with him. Then there’s Jeff Carlsen. He’s mid-thirties to forty-something, I would guess. He’s from Salt Lake City, and guess what, Kiah, he’s a lawyer.’
‘No kidding. What kind of law?’
‘I’m not sure, but he did say he was with a law firm there. And, last but not least, there is the legendary Aunt Meg.’
‘Aunt Meg?’ Arlene said. ‘Sounds like someone I knew back in Lubbock, one of them gypsy fortune tellers.’
‘No, Arlene. Quite the contrary. Aunt Meg is the most important person you are likely to meet this weekend. Her full name is Megan Sylvia van Eyck. She’s lived her whole life in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania – the van Eyck family heartland – and she is what you might call the matriarch of the family. Nobody knows how old she really is. She admits to eighty-five. Most people think ninety-plus would be nearer the mark. But she’s got all her wits about her, and she still gets around. She never misses one of these reunions. She knew my dad too.’ She smiled. ‘He had all kinds of stories about her. She never married, but she certainly seems to have led a colourful life.’
‘She sounds like the kind of character who would have a lot of pull with the family,’ I said.
‘If we can get on the right side of Aunt Meg,’ Sam replied, ‘she will bring the family with her – at least, everyone who matters.’