The exam would last for four days and consist of three parts, Wally explained. The first day would be a four-hour multiple-choice exam on ethics. Gill Vaughn, one of the partners, was the resident expert on ethics and would supervise that portion of the review. The second day would be an eight-hour exam known simply as multi-state. It covered most areas of the law common to all states. It, too, was multiple-choice and the questions were very deceptive. Then the heavy action. Days three and four would be eight hours each and cover fifteen areas of substantive law. Contracts, Uniform Commercial Code, real estate, torts, domestic relations, wills, estates, taxation, workers' compensation, constitutional law, federal trial procedure, criminal procedure, corporations, partnerships, insurance and debtor-creditor relations. All answers would be in essay form, and the questions would emphasize Tennessee law. had a review plan for each of the fifteen sections.
"You mean fifteen of these?" Mitch asked as he lifted the notebook.
Wally smiled. "Yes. We're very thorough. No one in this firm has ever flunked"
"I know. I know. I won't be the first."
"You and I will meet at least once a week for the next six weeks to go through the materials. Each session will last about two hours, so you can plan accordingly. I would suggest each Wednesday at three."
"Morning or afternoon?"
"Afternoon."
"That's fine."
"As you know, contracts and the Uniform Commercial Code go hand in hand, so I've incorporated the UCC into those materials. We'll cover both, but it'll take more time. A typical bar exam is loaded with commercial transactions. Those problems make great essay questions, so that notebook will be very important. I've included actual questions from old exams, along with the model answers. It's fascinating reading."
"I can't wait."
"Take the first eighty pages for next week. You'll find some essay questions you'll need to answer."
"You mean homework?"
"Absolutely. I'll grade it next week. It's very important to practice these questions each week."
"This could be worse than law school."
"It's much more important than law school. We take it very seriously. We have a committee to monitor your progress from now until you sit for the exam. We'll be watching very closely."
"Who's on the committee?"
"Myself, Avery Tolar, Royce McKnight, Randall Dunbar and Kendall Mahan. We'll meet each Friday to assess your progress."
Wally produced a smaller, letter-sized notebook and laid it on the desk. "This is your daily log. You are to record the hours spent studying for the exam and the subjects studied. I'll pick it up every Friday morning before the committee meets. Any questions?"
"I can't think of any," Mitch said as he laid the notebook on top of the Capps file.
"Good. See you next Wednesday at three."
Less than ten seconds after he left, Randall Dunbar walked in with a thick notebook remarkably similar to the one left behind by Wally. In fact, it was identical, but not quite as thick. Dunbar was head of real estate and had handled the purchase and sale of the McDeere home in May. He handed Mitch the notebook, labeled Real Estate Law, and explained how his specialty was the most critical part of the exam. Everything goes back to property, he said. He had carefully prepared the materials himself over the past ten years and confessed that he had often thought of publishing them as an authoritative work on property rights and land financing. He would need at least one hour a week, preferably on Tuesday afternoon. He talked for an hour about how different the exam was thirty years ago when he took it.
Kendall Mahan added a new twist. He wanted to meet on Saturday mornings. Early, say seven-thirty.
"No problem," Mitch said as he took the notebook and placed it next to the others. This one was for constitutional law, a favorite of Kendall's, although he seldom got to use it, he said. It was the most important section of the exam, or at least it had been when he took it five years ago. He had published an article on First Amendment rights in the Columbia Law Review in his senior year there. A copy of it was in the notebook, in case Mitch wanted to read it. He promised to do so almost immediately.
The procession continued throughout the afternoon until half of had stopped by with notebooks, assignments of homework and requests for weekly meetings. No fewer than six reminded him that no member of had ever failed the bar exam.
When his secretary said goodbye at five, the small desk was covered with enough bar review materials to choke a ten-man firm. Unable to speak, he simply smiled at her and returned to Wally's version of contract law. Food crossed his mind an hour later. Then, for the first time in twelve hours, he thought of Abby. He called her.
"I won't be home for a while," he said.
"But I'm cooking dinner."
"Leave it on the stove," he said, somewhat shortly.
There was a pause. "When will you be home?" she asked with slow, precise words.
"In a few hours."
"A few hours. You've already been there half the day."
"That's right, and I've got much more to do."
"But it's your first day."
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I'll be home later."
The starting engine awakened Dutch Hendrix, and he jumped to his feet. The gate opened and he waited by it as the last car left the lot. It stopped next to him.
"Evenin', Dutch," Mitch said.
"You just now leaving?"
"Yeah, busy day."
Dutch flashed his light at his wrist and checked the time. Eleven-thirty.
"Well, be careful," Dutch said.
"Yeah. See you in a few hours."
The BMW turned onto Front Street and raced away into the night. A few hours, thought Dutch. The rookies were indeed amazing. Eighteen, twenty hours a day, six days a week. Sometimes seven. They all planned to be the world's greatest lawyer and make a million dollars overnight. Sometimes they worked around the clock, slept at their desks. He had seen it all. But they couldn't last. The human body was not meant for such abuse. After about six months they lost steam. They would cut back to fifteen hours a day, six days a week. Then five and a half. Then twelve hours a day.
No one could work a hundred hours a week for more than six months.
7
ONE secretary dug through a file cabinet in search of something Avery needed immediately. The other secretary stood in front of his desk with a steno pad, occasionally writing down the instructions he gave when he stopped yelling into the receiver of his phone and listened to whoever was on the other end. Three red lights were blinking on the phone. When he spoke into the receiver the secretaries spoke sharply to each other. Mitch walked slowly into the office and stood by the door.
"Quiet!" Avery yelled to the secretaries.
The one in the file cabinet slammed the drawer and went to the next file cabinet, where she bent over and pulled the bottom drawer. Avery snapped his fingers at the other one and pointed at his desk calendar. He hung up without saying goodbye.
"What's my schedule for today?" he asked while pulling a file from his credenza.
"Ten A.M. meeting with the IRS downtown. One P.M. meeting with Nathan Locke on the Spinosa file. Three-thirty, partners' meeting. Tomorrow you're in tax court all day, and you're supposed to prepare all day today."
"Great. Cancel everything. Check the flights to Houston Saturday afternoon and the return nights Monday, early Monday."
"Yes, sir."
"Mitch! Where's the Capps file?"
"On my desk." ,
"How much have you done?"