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“More than a little.”
“I get it. My business can be cutthroat sometimes, and we lawyers sometimes get a bad rap, but we’re not all the same, Mrs. Houston. I’m here to help, but I can’t help you if you run from me.”
I nodded resoundingly. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“It is a fact that your case is challenging but not impossible.”
I perked up a little.
There may be hope after all.
“From what I understand, your husband worked for Vance Oil on one of their rigs for six months before his passing. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“What was his prior profession?”
“He was a mechanic. He loved working on cars and motorcycles.”
“And perhaps Kiyah will follow in his footsteps one day,” he commented, watching her draw a car on the yellow legal notepad.
“I think Rory wanted a boy for that reason, but he learned quickly that gender didn’t matter. She followed him into the garage as soon as she learned to walk.” I sniffed back the snot that attempted to trickle out of my nose. “Thank you,” I whispered when he handed me some tissue. I blew my nose and wiped before proceeding. “Kiyah can identify most tools in his tool chest. He’d lie on a creeper under the car and ask her to bring him his tools.”
“Can she do oil changes yet? I think I’m due for one,” he joked.
I snorted. “I think that was one of Rory’s goals. He wanted her to be able to change the oil by the time she was five.”
“That’s remarkable. My five-year-old is just learning how to tie his shoes. I miss velcro,” he sighed.
I grinned and swiped at my nose again with the tissue. Jonathan Baker was a joker. He was probably the class clown when he was younger. I didn’t mind. It put me at ease.
“Tell me more about Mr. Houston and what led him to work for Vance Oil.”
“We lived up north, and the cost of living was pretty high. He worked at a shop, and I worked part-time on the weekends for damn near scraps. He found an online ad for oil riggers, and the pay made him jump at the opportunity. He didn’t have toconvince me much. I was over the cold, and the money was more than enticing. We packed up our lives, moved to Texas, and he began working for Vance Oil almost immediately.”
“And he had no previous experience working on rigs?”
“None.”
“Interesting,” he mused. “What did the company tell you when you were informed of his passing?”
“I can’t recall exactly. I heard ‘Rory’ and ‘dead’ in the same sentence, and I’d completely shut down.”
“Okay. What benefits did Mr. Houston have with Vance Oil?”
“The usual—health, dental, vision, and accidental death.”
“How much was the accidental death policy?”
“Thirty-thousand dollars, but I’ve also been getting the runaround from them. I provided everything the insurance company requested, but it’s been weeks, and every time I call and check, they tell me that they’re still processing my claim.”
“Mr. Houston has been deceased six months, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That’s odd, considering that insurance companies usually pay out between thirty and sixty days.”
“They’re trying to screw me, too,” I proclaimed.
