Second Chance
 
Author: JDillon 
 
Email: jdillon@mail.win.org
 
Rating: G
 
Summary: This story describes Nick's initial return to Pittsburgh after 
accepting a job working for his father at Fallin and Associates. It is a 
follow-up to my story "The Offer", but stands completely on its own.
 
Authors Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of a character in 
this story to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any 
resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual 
organization is purely coincidental.
 
............................................
 
July 1997 The intercom buzzed. 
 
"Yes?" 
 
"Mr. Fallin, your son is on the line." 
 
"Thank you, Sheila. Put him through." 
 
"Dad?" 
 
"Nick, good to hear from you, son. How are ya?" 
 
"Good. I'm good... Dad, I've been thinking... about your offer..." 
 
"Yeah?" 
 
"I-I, I accept." 
 
"Well, great! That's great, son. Really," a broad smile broke out on Burton 
Fallin's face. "Just great. So, uh, I guess we need to talk about your salary. 
This isn't New York, Nicholas, you know that, but I think we can come pretty 
close to what Swann & Cranston were doing for you. How, uh, how does $126,000 
sound?" 
 
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and then Nick said, 
"Fine. Okay." 
 
"Well, now that that's settled, when can you start?" Burton asked with 
enthusiasm. 
 
"I'm not sure. I'll have to give my two weeks notice here. Then there are the 
arrangements to make with the movers, giving notice at my apartment, things like 
that." 
 
"Yeah... I tell you what, son... you, uhm, you take a day or two to think about 
it, then call me back. Then if you want, we'll fly you down here for a 
house-hunting trip. That way you can settle right in to your new place as soon 
as the movers get your things down here. How does that sound?" 
 
"Okay, that, that sounds fine." 
 
"Good... Well, welcome aboard, son." 
 
"Yeah. Thanks." 
 
"I'll talk to you soon." 
 
"Okay. Bye, Dad." 
 
"Bye, Nick." 
 
As Burton hung up the phone, he smiled contentedly. He really hadn't expected 
Nick to accept his offer. He'd hoped, of course, but Nick had rejected too many 
of his overtures in the past for Burton to have gotten his hopes up too high 
this time. It came as a pleasant surprise to find that this latest gambit had 
actually paid off. He took a moment to consider what this second chance at 
connecting with his son might mean, mean to him and Nick, before turning his 
attention back to the papers for the Benson-Creighton merger. 
 
...................................
 
It was 7:45 the following Friday night. Although weather was clear locally, air 
traffic had been heavy at Pittsburgh Int'l Airport due to flight delays caused 
by storms along the coast. As Nick Fallin came through the door from the jetway, 
suit jacket over his arm, he began to search the crowd at the gate for his 
father. Burton had insisted on picking him up. Nick had told his dad that there 
was no need for that. He could just pick up the rental car at the airport, and 
meet his father at home. But Burton was resolute. He'd pick Nick up, they'd go 
to dinner, then he'd drop Nick back off at the airport to pick up the rental 
car. 
 
As Nick walked a few steps further into the terminal, he spotted his father. 
Burton lifted a hand in greeting. He was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, 
white shirt, and conservative tie, typical business attire for his father, as 
Nick knew. Nick walked over to his dad, and was met with an enthusiastic 
greeting. Burton shook his son's hand while simultaneously patting him on his 
other arm. 
 
"Nick! Good to see you, son. How was the flight? Is that all your luggage?" 
 
"Yeah, this is it," Nick said, nodding toward his carry-on bag. "The flight was 
fine, once we finally got off the ground." 
 
"No turbulence?" 
 
Nick sort of shrugged, and tilted his head briefly to the side. "It was bumpy 
until we got above the clouds, but that was all." 
 
Burton nodded, and father and son began to walk down the concourse together. 
 
Burton said, "I hope you're hungry, son. We've got reservations at Gianni's. 
We're a little late, but when I saw your flight was going to be delayed, I 
called, and they're holding our table. Italian sound all right to you?" 
 
"Sure. Yeah, that sounds good." 
 
"Fine." 
 
Reaching his father's car (a mid-size, white Cadillac), Nick put his bag in the 
back, and then took his place in the front seat beside his Dad. Burton started 
the car, and headed for the parking structure exit. After paying the fee, they 
were on there way. 
 
Burton made small talk with his son on the drive to the restaurant. Nick was 
responsive, but somewhat subdued. Burton couldn't tell whether his son was just 
tired, or whether there was something on his mind. 
 
Reaching the restaurant, they found their table ready for them. The hostess led 
the way to a section in the back of the main dining area, handing each man a 
menu as he sat down. She said, "Your server will be right with you, gentlemen. 
Enjoy your meal." With a final smile, she left them to themselves. 
 
Burton said, "You've been here before, right son?" 
 
"Uh, yeah, but it's been a long time." 
 
Burton nodded, and suggested some things from the menu that Nick might like to 
try. In a moment, the server arrived to ask what they'd like to drink. Burton 
ordered a bottle of wine, and the server left. By the time she came back, both 
men were ready with their orders. Burton ordered lasagna. Nick ordered the pasta 
con broccoli with chicken. 
 
Burton turned his attention back to Nick, and said, "So, how'd they take it? 
When you turned in your resignation, I mean." 
 
Nick leaned back in his seat, and paused for a few seconds, as if considering 
what to say. "They took it all right. Said they were sorry to see me go. That 
I'd, that I'd been a real asset. You know, that kind of thing." 
 
Burton nodded. "Well, I'm sure they are sorry to lose you, son. You've got a lot 
of promise. I'm sure they could see that... You have anything big in the works, 
anything that it's going to be difficult to hand off?" 
 
"Well, I'm in the middle of several things, but I, I don't thing it will be too 
bad." 
 
"Good." 
 
Burton then steered the conversation to Fallin and Associates. He went over 
several things that he thought Nick should know in preparation for starting at 
the firm. He listed most of their important clients, filling Nick in on their 
accounts, and some of their personal foibles. He also gave Nick a rundown of all 
the notable cases currently in progress, and described to his son, his own 
strategy for growing the firm in the present business climate. After that, 
Burton began to familiarize Nick with some of the lawyers at the firm. Most of 
the partners were already known to him, having been with the firm for years, but 
there were a couple of the younger partners that Nick hadn't met yet. After 
covering the partners, Burton moved on to the associates that Nick would likely 
be working with. Somewhere in the middle of this their dinner arrived. 
 
Both their entrees were excellent, and as they were finishing up the last of 
their meals, Burton found himself thinking that he was pleased with how the 
evening had gone. Nick had listened attentively to all that his father had had 
to tell him about the firm, and had asked intelligent questions. He'd also 
offered suggestions from time to time - excellent suggestions, as a matter of 
fact. Burton was very pleased, and couldn't help but feel pride in his son. 
 
The server returned, and asked if they would like anything else. Both men 
ordered coffee. As they were waiting for it to arrive, Burton decided now was 
the time to bring up the other subject that had been on his mind tonight. 
 
"Nick." 
 
Nick had been looking around the room idly, but now returned his attention to 
his father, with a mildly inquiring gaze. 
 
"Son, I want you to know how glad I am that you decided to join the firm." 
Burton stopped, and cleared his throat. "I am, Nicholas, very glad." Nick looked 
down at the table at these words. "And I'm hoping that this... that working 
together, will give us a chance to, uhm, to get to know each other better." 
Burton stopped, and looked at Nick to gauge his reaction, but Nick's head was 
still bent. After a few seconds, Burton continued, "I realize it hasn't always 
been smooth sailing between the two of us, Nick. We've had our problems, in, in 
the past. But I'm hoping we can put all that behind us. Start off with a clean 
slate. What do you say, son?" Burton looked at Nick with a mixture of 
expectation and apprehension. 
 
Nick raised his head to his father. A couple quick, pained expressions passed 
across his face, but he didn't say anything. At last, he gave his father a 
small, reluctant nod of acceptance, and averted his gaze once more. 
 
Burton smiled encouragingly at his son. "Well good. I'm glad you agree, son. 
That's, that's fine." 
 
The waitress returned with the coffee pot. After she'd filled their cups, and 
departed, neither man attempted to restart the conversation. Each seemed lost in 
his own thoughts. 
 
After dinner, Burton and Nick drove back to the airport. Burton let Nick off 
outside the Dollar Rental Car office. "I'll see you at home, son," he said. Nick 
nodded. As Burton pulled away from the curb, Nick turned to walk into the 
building. 
 
...................................
 
The Grandfather clock in the hallway was just striking 10:30 as Nick turned the 
key in the lock, and opened the front door. As he came inside, Burton walked in 
from the dining room, a drink in one hand. "Hi, son. I was just making myself a 
nightcap. Want one?" 
 
"No, no thanks." 
 
"Okay, well, I figured I'd head into the den, and watch TV for a while before 
turning in. Wanta join me?" 
 
"No, I'm, I'm bushed. I think I'll just head upstairs." 
 
"Well, okay. I put your bag in your room. And I asked Rosita to put out soap and 
fresh towels in your bathroom yesterday, so you should be all set there." 
 
Nick nodded. Then after a few seconds said, "How, how is Rosita?" 
 
"She's fine, just fine. Same as always. You know how she is." Burton smiled at 
his son. "She's excited about you coming back, I can tell you that. Once you get 
settled in your new place, you'll have to come over, and say hello. She'd like 
that." 
 
"Sure," Nick said with a small smile of his own. 
 
"Well, good night, son. I'll see you in the morning." 
 
"'night, Dad." 
 
Nick headed up the stairs. Burton watched him until he was out of sight, and 
then turned to head into the den. 
 
Nick walked in the doorway of his bedroom, and flipped on the light. The room 
looked exactly as he had left it more than two years ago. Same furniture, same 
bedspread and curtains (dark blue with a grid of thin white stripes). It looked 
almost Spartan, bare of all of the things that had personalized it when he was a 
boy. There was nothing of himself left in this room now. When he had graduated 
from law school, and accepted the job in New York, he had taken everything with 
him, all his keepsakes, all the mementos from his youth: pictures of his mother, 
his baseball and track trophies, his favorite glove and ball, the Rubik's cube 
his mother had given him when he turned twelve (the last birthday they'd 
celebrated together). It was all sitting in his apartment in New York, or packed 
away in boxes. It wasn't here. 
 
Still there were lots of memories associated with this room, memories both good 
and bad. He remembered how when he was small his mother would always read him 
stories before bed. It was a nightly ritual: three bedtime stories, a kiss on 
the forehead, and then she'd tuck him in. Then right before turning off the 
light and leaving, she'd say affectionately, "Sleep tight my little man." Nick 
couldn't help but smile at the memory. 
 
But the smile disappeared as he began to recall other unpleasant, disturbing 
memories. He recalled vividly the many times he had clutched his pillow tightly 
to his middle, curled around it, and pulled the covers over his head in an 
attempt to shut out the sound of his parents arguing. And later, after the 
divorce, he could remember lying in bed, night after night, listening to the 
sounds of his mother's sobs. Each time he had wanted to go to her, to offer her 
comfort, but he'd learned that it was better to stay where he was. It just upset 
his mother more to know that he was aware of her distress. So, he had stayed in 
bed, feeling helpless, and silently cursed his father for making his mother so 
unhappy. 
 
Yes, there were lots of memories associated with this room. 
 
Nick shook himself out of his reverie, and walked over to the bed. His father 
had placed his flight bag there, and he opened it now, digging out the items 
he'd need for tonight. Carrying his shaving kit into the bathroom, he began to 
get ready for bed. 
 
Nick lay on his back in his old bed, one hand under his head. He was thinking 
about what his father had said to him at dinner. What he had said about getting 
to know each other better, making a fresh start of things. He thought he knew 
his father well, very well indeed. It was his father who really didn't know him. 
And why should he? He'd packed his son off to boarding school before the first 
grass covered the earth over his ex-wife's grave. The familiar anger returned as 
Nick considered that years-old grievance. His mother had died, and his father 
had sent him away, sent him away to grow up among strangers. The anger still 
burned bright in his mind's eye. 
 
Pushing the anger away for the moment, he tried to decide how he really felt 
about his father's proposal. He knew it made logical sense. After all he was 
almost 28 years old. It seemed time to move on... to forget about the past. And 
a part of him did want that, really did want to come to some kind of 
accommodation with his father. Or more accurately, with the tally sheet of 
wrongs he had compiled against his father over the years. It would be a relief 
to set it aside, put it behind him. He just didn't know if it was possible. He'd 
carried that anger around for so long... It was a part of himself, a part of who 
he was. Who would he be if he didn't have that anger, that sense of grievance, 
to fix to anymore? He didn't know. But he had agreed to his father's request, so 
he would have to make an attempt to leave his hurt, his sense of injustice over 
his father's treatment of him (and his mother), in the past. 
 
Nick let out a long sigh, and turned over on his side, crunching the pillow up 
under his head. With difficulty, he switched his train of thought to something 
more benign - the hunt for an apartment tomorrow, and all the things that he 
would have to take care of to affect the move. Going through this mental 
checklist, he at last drifted off to sleep. 
 
...................................
 
Nick, dressed in a light blue polo shirt and brown khaki's, came downstairs in 
the morning to find his father already busy in the kitchen. He was greeted by 
the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee as he entered the room. 
 
"Morning, son. How'd you sleep?" Burton inquired, as he filled a coffee cup for 
Nick. 
 
Nick took the cup, and answered briefly, "I slept okay." 
 
Burton nodded. "Good. So what do you feel like for breakfast? Pancakes? Bacon 
and eggs? Or an omelet?" 
 
Nick shrugged, and said mildly, "Whatever you want to make is fine." 
 
"'Kay then, I say let's have bacon and eggs." 
 
Nick leaned against the counter, sipped his coffee, and watched his father cook. 
More than twenty years on his own had given his dad lots of experience in the 
kitchen. Burton employed a combination housekeeper and cook to come in during 
the week to keep the place in order, and cook his evening meals (that was 
Rosita, who had been with his father since before Nick started college). Still, 
Dad was a perfectly competent cook himself. He had told Nick many times how his 
mother had taught him to cook, how she had held the conviction, unusual for her 
time, that her sons as well as her daughters should know their way around the 
kitchen. 
 
When breakfast was ready, Burton carried the two plates of food into the dining 
room, while Nick followed with their coffee cups. The two men took their place 
at the dining room table, and began to eat. Burton's assistant, Sheila, had made 
an appointment at an apartment rental agency for Nick at 10:00AM. It was nearly 
9:00 now, so Nick would not have time to linger over his breakfast. Not, thought 
Burton wryly, that Nick ever lingered over a meal anyway, not at home at any 
rate. There had been times when Nick was young that Burton had been sorely 
tempted to find a hammer, and nail the boy to his seat. Somewhere along the 
line, his son had acquired the very bad habit of bolting down his food, and 
making a quick exit. 
 
As they ate together now, Burton asked his son a few questions about the kind of 
apartment he thought he'd want, where he might like to live, and about how his 
arrangements were coming along for making the move out of New York. Nick 
answered his fathers questions easily, and Burton took this as a good sign for 
things to come. 
 
At 9:40, Nick left for his appointment, and Burton cleaned up the remains of 
breakfast. Nick had called a goodbye as he headed out the door. Burton found 
himself noticing how quiet it seemed after Nick had left. He told himself that 
was silly. He was used to being alone in the house. All the same, he flipped on 
the radio to dispel the silence, and listened to a news program on NPR as he 
cleaned up in the kitchen. 
 
...................................
 
Nick arrived back home about 2:00. He had signed a lease on an apartment 
downtown. He told his father it was in one of the newer high-rises. The 
apartment was on the 10th floor, and had a nice view of the Allegheny River. It 
was a one bedroom, two bath. The building had underground parking, and it was 
only five blocks from the offices of Fallin and Associates. Nick thought it 
would more than meet his needs. The apartment was unoccupied, and Nick's tenancy 
would begin two weeks from today. That was the Saturday before his start date at 
F & A. He was hoping the moving company would be prompt in bringing his 
belongings, and he would be settled into the apartment before the end of his 
first week back in Pittsburgh. Prior to that he would be staying in the house 
with Burton. Nick had begun to get excited about the prospect of coming back to 
Pittsburgh on his drive back from the city. Now that he had a place to live it 
all seemed much more immediate, much more of a reality. His enthusiasm revealed 
itself in his voice as he described the apartment and his plans for it to his 
father. Burton was pleased to hear his son sound so enthused. In the past, 
especially in Nick's teenage years, that had been something of a rare treat. 
 
Nick had plans to meet some friends for dinner that evening, so he and his 
father passed a quiet afternoon. Burton read through some paperwork that he'd 
brought home from the office in the study, and Nick caught up with some of the 
latest issues of "The Pennsylvania Law Review" and "The American Lawyer". 
 
...................................
 
Sunday morning played out much as had Saturday morning. Burton was already up 
and about by the time Nick came downstairs. They had a quiet breakfast. Burton 
had arranged to meet some friends at the club at 1:00. He wanted to introduce 
Nick to some of the movers and shakers in the city. Nick had actually met many 
of these men as a youngster, but his father wished him to renew their 
acquaintance. They were important people in Pittsburgh, and Burton knew the 
value of those kinds of contacts. And, frankly, he was also eager to show off 
his son just a little. Burton had wrung a promise out of Nick to attend this 
little get-together, although Nick had been less than enthusiastic. 
 
...................................
 
By 3:30, Nick and Burton were back at the house, and Nick was packing for his 
5:30 flight. He came down the steps with his carry-on bag as Burton walked in 
from the other room. Nick looked at his father as if trying to determine who was 
going to speak first, then said, "Well-". 
 
"Got everything?" Burton asked. 
 
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," Nick replied, nodding a couple times. He glanced 
around, and said. "Well, guess I'd better get going." 
 
Burton opened up the front door, and Nick preceded him through it. They walked 
out onto the circular driveway that fronted the house. Nick unlocked the red 
Ford Taurus, and threw his bag in the backseat. He turned back to his father. 
 
"Okay, son. It was good to have you here. See you in a couple weeks," Burton 
said, sticking out his hand. Nick grasped it, and they exchanged a firm 
handshake. As they did, Nick could hear the echo of his grandfather's voice in 
his head. He didn't remember the exact words anymore, but his grandfather (on 
his mother's side) had said something about it being important to "always give a 
man a firm handshake", that it showed you were "a man to be trusted", or 
something like that. Nick didn't know why he should recall those words right now 
- his grandfather had been dead for years- but he had. Withdrawing his hand from 
his father's at last, Nick said, "Well, see you, Dad." 
 
"Take care, son. Have a good flight. I'll see you soon." 
 
Nick climbed into the car, and started the engine. Burton watched as Nick 
maneuvered the car around the circular drive, and out onto the road. He waved as 
Nick glanced back, and then watched the car until it was out of sight. 
 
--+--
 
Second Chance Part II
 
 
……………………………
 
July 1997 
 
Jake Straka stood washing his hands in the men's room of the prestigious 
Pittsburgh law firm, Fallin and Associates. Jake was a junior associate at the 
firm, and had been there for close to two and a half years. As he reached for a 
paper towel, he heard the flush of a urinal, and then Larry Heinz walked up to 
stand beside him. Heinz had been at Fallin and Associates for four years, after 
serving a tenure at a firm in Philadelphia. Jake knew he had his eye on a 
partnership at F&A, and to hear Larry tell it, it was going to be any day now. 
 
"Jake," said Larry. 
 
"Larry," Jake replied. 
 
"So, Fallin's kid starts today." 
 
"Yeah, so I heard." 
 
"Should be interesting... Chances are he's one of these rich kids who's used to 
Daddy handing him everything on a silver platter. You know the type. Probably'll 

just end up making more work for everybody else." 
 
"I don't know," Jake protested mildly. "I heard he's been working at Swann & 
Cranston in New York. That's a top-notch firm. He must have something going for 
him." 
 
"Yeah, something going for him all right - his old man's name." Larry Heinz 
laughed derisively. "Fallin probably pulled some strings to get his kid that 
plum assignment. You know how it is, 'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours', 
that whole old boys' network." 
 
"Well, I don't know about that..." 
 
" I'm telling you, having the right connections, that's how to get ahead in this 

world, Jake. Guys like you and me, we have to work for everything we get. 
Nobody's standing around waiting to hand us anything gratis. A guy like Fallin 
probably doesn't know what real work is." 
 
"Well, I admit having connections helps. I'm not stupid, Larry. But come on, I 
mean, I think we have to give this guy a chance. We haven't even met him yet." 
 
"Well, I'm just trying to give you a friendly warning. You and all the other 
junior associates better watch yourselves. This kid Fallin could turn out to be 
a big headache. And if he can't pull his weight, guess whose shoulders the extra 

work is going to fall on. Yours, that's who. Yours and the other poor saps that 
the old man teams him up with." 
 
Jake shook his head skeptically. "Well, I still say we have to wait and see, 
give the guy the benefit of the doubt. After all, if he's even half the lawyer 
his father is, that's saying a lot. Who knows, maybe it's in the genes." 
 
"Well, when you're working your butt off trying to clean up this guy's messes 
don't say I didn't warn you. That's all I'm saying." 
 
With a final meaningful look at Jake, Larry Heinz turned, and walked out of the 
restroom. Jake shook his head in mild disgust. He'd always believed Heinz was 
something of a snake, but this was the limit, to try to poison him against Nick 
Fallin before the poor guy even walked in the door. It was unbelievable. And 
low. Really low. He couldn't understand it. What was Heinz' motivation anyway? 
Surely Nick Fallin couldn't be a threat to Larry's position. The guy was only 
two years out of law school for pete's sake. No, he didn't understand it, but he 

resolved to be careful in the future of anything he might say around Larry 
Heinz. That guy was not to be trusted. 
 
……………………………
 
Nick Fallin walked into the offices of Fallin and Associates at 9:00 sharp. He 
had been staying at his father's house since renting a car and driving down from 

New York City on Saturday. He still had the rental car, but his father's 
assistant Sheila was supposed to be arranging for a leased car for him today. As 

he walked in the monogrammed glass door into the lobby, he was struck by the 
familiarity of the place. His dad had moved the firm into this office suite 
about twelve years ago. Nick had been there several times, but usually on the 
weekend when few other people were around. And the last time he'd visited must 
be more than five years ago now. 
 
He walked past the receptionist, who gave him a polite, but curious smile, and 
back toward his father's office. He knew his dad should already be here, as he 
had left the house before Nick. As he approached the office, he saw Sheila was 
at her desk outside Burton's door. She looked up as Nick drew near, and smiled. 
She was on the phone, but signaled that she would be through in a moment. Nick 
glanced around while waiting for her to finish. Although it was still fairly 
early there were already several people going here and there about their 
assigned tasks. 
 
Sheila ended her call, and said, "Nick, nice to see you again. I know your dad 
has really been looking forward to this day... Here," she said, opening a 
drawer, and pulling out a cellphone and a small plastic packet of information. 
"This is yours. The instruction manual is inside. Your phone number is on that 
yellow sticky on the front cover. We pay a set rate per month for the service so 

you don't have to worry about how many minutes of air time you use... Your 
business cards should be here in the next day or two. They should have been here 

already, but there was a foul-up at the printers. Let's see, what else... Oh, 
yes." She pulled a piece of paper from a stack on the side of here desk, and 
handed it to Nick. "Here's the information about the car lease. I've talked to 
the manager down there, and it's all set. You just need to go over, and pick out 

the car you want." 
 
Nick nodded, and said, "Okay. Thanks." 
 
"And your dad's free. You can go on in." Before the words were quite out of her 
mouth, the phone rang. 
 
Nick nodded, and turned to his father's door as he heard Sheila say in a 
pleasant, yet officious voice, "Fallin and Associates. Burton Fallin's office. 
How may I help you?" 
 
With a brief knock, Nick opened the door, and walked in. Burton looked up at his 

entrance, and smiled. 
 
"Hey son. So you found the place, huh?" His smile broadened in pleasure at his 
own joke. 
 
Nick half-smiled, and said, "Yeah." 
 
"Well, come on in. Take a seat." Burton gestured to one of the two chairs placed 

in front of his desk. Nick moved to a chair, and sat down, empty briefcase on 
his lap. He realized all the sudden that this had a certain uncomfortable 
familiarness about it - his father behind the desk; him before it. When he was 
growing up, his father's study had often been the setting for the firm delivery 
of scoldings and lectures. Nick had known in those days that a summons to the 
study was rarely a good thing. As he relived those memories, he became aware 
that he had unconsciously assumed the posture he had taken on those occasions - 
body bent forward, head down. With a sharp, silent self-reprimand, he forced 
himself to sit up straight, and look his father in the eye. 
 
Burton didn't seem to notice the abrupt change in posture. "Well, son, first I 
thought we'd take a look at your office, and then I'll introduce you around a 
bit. How's that sound?" 
 
"Fine." 
 
"Good. I'm going to start you out working along side a young man named Jake 
Straka. He's been here a couple years, and he can show you the ropes. Tell you 
who to go to for what, that kind of thing... Jake's good. Not brilliant, but 
very good. Extremely conscientious, and that's an important quality. And he's 
not afraid of hard work. I like that." Burton paused, and looked at Nick 
expectantly. "So, any questions before I show you around?" 
 
Nick considered the question for just a few seconds, and then said, "No. Not 
right now". 
 
"Okay then. Let's go see your office." 
 
Burton got up and walked out from behind the desk. Nick rose too, and father and 

son walked out of the office together. Burton led the way back toward the front 
of the suite, turned right at the receptionist's desk, and then turned again 
into a hallway that ran behind the staircase. He stopped at the second door on 
the right. It already had the name "Nicholas Fallin" painted on the opaque glass 

door. 
 
"Here we are, son," Burton said, and opened the door. Nick walked in first, 
followed closely by his father. The office was of a generous size, with a window 

along one wall. There was a desk with a glass table-top, and a couple large 
credenzas. It was a very nice office. The walls were painted in the same medium 
olive green as was visible throughout the Fallin and Associates' suite. This was 

much nicer than the cubby-hole he'd had back at Swann & Cranston. And, he 
realized, much nicer than your average two-year associate could probably expect 
here too. But he wasn't going to complain. If his father wanted to give him a 
nice office that was okay with him. 
 
"How do you like it?" Burton asked, pleased with himself. 
 
"Great. It's great, Dad. Thanks." 
 
"You're welcome. And you deserve it, son. I expect big things from you." He 
smiled at Nick. "Why, uh, why don't you leave your briefcase in here, and I'll 
start introducing you around?" 
 
Nick put his briefcase down on the desk, then with a final look about the room, 
followed his dad out the door. 
 
……………………………
 
Jake Straka was walking toward his office when he heard someone call out, "Oh, 
Jake". He recognized the voice as that of his boss, Burton Fallin, senior 
partner and founder of Fallin and Associates. Jake stopped, and turned around. 
He saw Burton with a man he didn't know, a man maybe a few years younger than 
himself. He realized immediately that this must be Burton's son, Nick. 
 
"Mr. Fallin," Jake said. 
 
"Jake, I want you to meet my son, Nick. Nick, this is Jake Straka." 
 
Jake stuck out his hand to Nick as Burton was finishing the introductions. The 
two men exchanged a firm handshake. 
 
As they faced each other, Jake couldn't help but study the younger Fallin. He 
was about Jake's own height, handsome, with ash-blonde hair that was a little on 

the longish side, thick and curly. Jake couldn't help but be a little envious of 

such a head of hair. At 30, his own hair was already noticeably thin on top. 
Yep, he bet the girls fell all over this guy - money and looks. Quite a 
combination... Jake couldn't detect any family resemblance to Burton, but then 
maybe the son took after the mother. He turned his attention to the younger 
Fallin's attire. He was wearing a very sharp-looking suit. Jake thought it was 
probably Armani. He could tell it was expensive, whatever the brand, and 
well-cut. The suit was black, and Fallin wore a crisp white shirt, and black and 

white patterned tie underneath. He cut an impressive figure, did this new heir 
apparent. 
 
Burton was speaking, and Jake broke off his inspection of Nick to pay attention 
to what his boss was saying. 
 
"Jake, I'd like Nick to work with you for a while. Just till he knows his way 
around, gets familiar with how we do things around here. Understand?" Jake 
nodded. "I thought, to start, he could, uhm, help you out with the Crietonville 
case. How's that sound?" 
 
"Fine, Mr. Fallin. Whatever you say." 
 
"Okay. Well, I've got an afternoon meeting I need to get ready for. Why don't 
you, why don't you take Nick to your office, and familiarize him with the case?" 

 
 
"Sure, no problem." 
 
Burton turned to leave, but then looked back. "And, oh, Jake, I introduced Nick 
around to the partners and some of the senior associates. Could you see that he 
meets the receptionists, the secretaries, and the paralegals? Anybody you think 
he might need to know. I'd appreciate it." 
 
"Sure thing. It'd be my pleasure." 
 
"Nicholas, I'll see you for lunch. 12:00, all right?" 
 
"All right," Nick said. 
 
At that, Burton Fallin walked away, and the two young men were left alone. Jake 
found Nick regarding him with a deceptively mild expression. Something in Nick's 

look made him realize that while he had been sizing up the younger Fallin, he 
had been being sized up in return. He was amused by this, and worked hard to 
keep it from showing on his face. 
 
"Well, uh, I guess we can start with introducing you to some of the staff you 
haven't met yet." 
 
Jake proceeded to introduce Nick to the women at Reception, and all the 
secretaries and paralegals that he could find at their desks. Jake couldn't miss 

the fact that many of the younger woman were looking at Nick with a speculative 
eye. He knew what they must be thinking: "son of the senior partner, and 
handsome to boot - yum!" 
 
Next Jake showed Nick the kitchen, the copy room, the supply room (where Nick 
picked up a couple legal pads and pens and pencils), and the legal library. At 
that last stop, Jake explained the procedures that were to be followed when 
removing materials from the library. When Jake ran out of things to show the 
younger man, he led the way back to his office. It was off a corridor in the 
rear of the F & A suite. As they entered the office, Jake saw Nick glance around 

with interest. It suddenly occurred to him that the office wasn't much to look 
at - 8" x 8", with no window. 
 
"Where did they put you?" Jake found himself asking. 
 
"Off that hallway that runs behind the staircase. Second door down." 
 
"Oh," said Jake. He was familiar with that office. It had last been occupied by 
Rich Jenkins. Jenkins had had six years in with the firm before he'd left last 
month for a job in Boston. "Huh," Jake thought to himself ruefully. "I guess 
maybe Larry Heinz had a point about 'connections', after all." Pulling his 
thoughts back to the business at hand, he invited Nick to take a seat, as he 
took his own chair behind the desk. 
 
"So," he said, in what he hoped was a tone of friendly interest, "I understand 
that you were with Swann and Cranston in New York?" 
 
"That's right." Nick replied. 
 
"That's quite a firm. I understand it's one of the largest in the city. What's 
it like, working for a big firm like that?" 
 
Nick considered for a second before answering levelly. "It's exciting. Always 
some big case in the works. Very dog-eat-dog, though. The competition for 
advancement can get pretty cut-throat... Overall, I'd guess it's nothing like 
here." 
 
"Huh," Jake said, and contemplated Nick's words for a moment before saying, 
"Well, I guess we should get started." He then launched into an explanation of 
the Crietonville case. Crietonville, PA. was an industrial town about 40 miles 
NE of Pittsburgh. It was the home of Chemaclean, one of the worlds biggest 
producers of industrial solvents, cleansers, and other chemicals, chemicals used 

in thousands of factories around the world. A few years ago, a local doctor had 
noticed that there were an unusual number of birth defects occuring in this 
small town. He did some research, and discovered that the birth defect rate for 
Crietonville going back forty years was twenty times higher than the national 
average. Eventually state officials got involved, and then the EPA, and it was 
discovered that the whole town was contaminated with dangerous chemicals that 
had been illegally dumped, or had otherwise originated, from the Chemaclean 
plant. Fallin and Associates was handling a class action law suit for the 
residents of Crietonville against Chemaclean. It was expected to be a 
multi-million dollar case. 
 
As he spoke, Jake was pleased to see that not only was Nick Fallin listening 
attentively, he was taking notes, as well. "That's a good sign," he thought to 
himself. Jake next told Nick that the partner heading up the case was Jeb 
Mitchell. "You met Jeb?" Jake asked. 
 
"Uh-huh. Actually, I first met him several years ago, but, I spoke to him again 
this morning." 
 
"Oh, okay," said Jake. He then proceeded to explain where the suit stood at this 

point, the tasks he, himself, had been assigned, and what he thought lay ahead 
for the case. 
 
By the end of the session, Jake had to admit he was impressed. It was obvious 
that Fallin was a quick study. He asked questions in all the right places, and 
they were the right questions to boot. Jake glanced at his watch, and realized 
that it was nearly 12:00. He'd better let Fallin go so that he could meet his 
dad for that lunch. Tiny seeds of envy fought to take root in Jake's mind, but 
he stomped them down. He'd never been envious by nature, and he didn't intend to 

start now. 
 
Sheila was not at her desk when Nick walked up to his father's door, but he had 
seen through the glass partition that his dad was alone, so he just knocked once 

briefly, and then entered. Burton glanced up to see who it was, then looked back 

down at the papers in front of him, saying, "Hey, Nick. Be with you in a minute. 

Just need to finish something up here." Nick walked over to the window, and 
gazed out. His father's offices were on the 8th floor, but most of the view was 
blocked by the surrounding office buildings. Still, the large windows let in a 
lot of light, which was an advantage. He let his mind wander until he heard his 
father say, "Okay. All set." Nick turned, and saw Burton getting up from his 
desk. 
 
His father said, "We're having lunch with Bernie Finestein. He's one of my 
oldest clients, and a hell of a smart guy. He's getting up there in years (must 
be pushing 85, at least), but he's still involved in the day-to-day running of 
his chain of electronics stores. You've heard the name, I'm sure - Advanced 
Electronics. He wanted to see me today, and I thought we'd do it over lunch." 
 
Nick just nodded, but didn't say anything. Burton grabbed his suit jacket, and 
put it on. Glancing once at the papers left out on his desk, he headed for the 
door. Nick fell into step behind his father. 
 
On the drive to lunch, Burton asked Nick how things had gone that morning. 
 
"Fine," Nick said. "Straka seems like a good guy. He brought me up-to-speed on 
the Crietonville case. I think there are a couple places were I can offer a 
fresh approach." 
 
Burton nodded. "Great, son. That's what I like to hear. I know you'll be running 

circles around the other associates in no time." 
 
……………………………
 
Burton and Nick were walking in the doors of Fallin and Associates after lunch 
as a man was approaching the lobby. He was slender, with dark blondish hair, and 

appeared to Nick to be in his late thirties or early forties. "Oh, Larry," 
Burton said. "You haven't met my son yet. Nick, this is Larry Heinz, one of our 
senior associates." 
 
Nick and Heinz shook hands. "It's great to finally meet you, Nick, " Larry said 
pleasantly. "Your father speaks very highly of you. I want you to know we're all 

extremely pleased to have you here. I'm sure you're going to be a great asset to 

the firm. Looking forward to working with you." 
 
"Thanks," Nick said, although privately he thought that Heinz was pouring it on 
a bit thick. 
 
"Well," said Heinz. "I'm due across the street for a meeting at Kirk and McGee. 
Nice meeting you, Nick." 
 
"Nice meeting you too," Nick replied evenly. 
 
With a nod to the two men, Larry Heinz left for his appointment. 
 
"See you later, son," Burton said, as he started to head to his office. 
 
"Yeah," Nick answered, turning toward his own office. 
 
……………………………
 
It was almost 4:30, and Nick had been working non-stop since lunch on the 
Crietonville case. He'd sought Jake out once or twice for clarification of a 
couple points, but most of his time had been spent deeply buried in the details 
of the case itself. Now he leaned back in his chair, and rubbed at the back of 
his neck with one hand. He felt a little stiff. He decided it was time to get 
up, and stretch a little. He rose, and walked over to the window. While looking 
out at the city he performed a few simple maneuvers to get the kinks out - 
rotating his head in a circle, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms out 
behind him. 
 
He loved his work, but sometimes sitting behind a desk for hours at a time was a 

real drag. He wondered idly what it would be like to have the kind of job where 
you were outside all day, say... a utility repair man. At the thought, the 
corners of his lips pulled up in a sardonic smile. He could just imagine the 
look on his father's face if he'd announced THAT as a career choice - that he 
wanted to climb power poles and repair electric lines for a living. Oh, yeah, 
that would have gone over really big! As Nick imagined his father's reaction to 
such a statement, a small chuckle actually escaped his lips. 
 
Nick stood with his hands on his hips, looked out the window, and turned his 
attention to the work day that would soon be coming to an end. He thought it had 

gone well. Things seemed to be pretty much as he had expected them to be. He 
realized it was only his first day, and that wasn't much to go by, but he 
believed it was all going to turn out all right. He thought he could find his 
niche here - be comfortable - working as an associate in his father's firm. And 
he was determined to excel. To prove to his father that his faith in him, in his 

abilities, was not misplaced. He still marveled at how complimentary his father 
had been over dinner that night in New York. How he had praised his son's 
skills. If Nick hadn't heard it with his own ears, he would probably have never 
believed it. 
 
When he was a little boy, he used to go to sleep at night dreaming of the day 
he'd take his place beside his dad at Fallin and Associates. His earliest answer 

to "What do want to be when you grow up, Nicky?" had centered on becoming a 
lawyer and working for his father. It was a common little-boy dream, he knew, to 

wish to grow up and be just like Daddy. And he hadn't been immune to it himself. 

Of course, that aspiration had gone underground when his parents separated and 
then divorced. Suddenly he had had no desire to be anything like his father - 
none at all (Nick felt the old anger rekindling at those memories, and quickly 
snuffed it out). 
 
But as the years had passed, he still found himself attracted to the idea of the 

law. He told himself it had nothing to do with his father. It was just a 
discipline that he found intriguing in it's own right. That was all. Burton 
Fallin's choice of professions had nothing to do with his own. Nothing. He was 
his own man, not an extension of his father. But... he knew now he'd been 
deceiving himself. It had struck home that evening in New York when his father 
had made him the offer to come work with him. 
 
He'd realized that night that all the reasons he'd given himself for pursuing 
the law were valid. They were good reasons. But they were dwarfed by one 
overriding consideration, one whose import he had kept hidden from himself. It 
was the fact that the law was his father's profession. That was it. It was that 
simple. It was kind of pathetic, really, Nick thought, a self-deprecating smile 
appearing on his face. He, Nick Fallin, was no better than all those other young 

wannabes at Yale Law. The 'favored sons', whose fathers or grandfathers had 
begun the family tradition. He was no different from them. He too, had wanted to 

emulate his father, to, to earn his respect. What better way to do that than by 
following in his footsteps? Even after all these weeks, it was still something 
he wanted to deny, this disquieting revelation about himself. 
 
Nick ran a hand down the back of his head, and let out a heavy sigh. All this 
deep thought was wearying. He usually tried to avoid psychoanalyzing himself. He 

avoided it like the plague, if truth be told. He didn't like where it took him 
when he started exploring his own motivations, his own reasons for making the 
choices he'd made. He preferred to only deal with his surface-self, the self he 
presented to the world. Realizing he had spent enough time wool-gathering, Nick 
headed back to his desk to resume his work. 
 
……………………………
 
Nick looked up when the knock came at the door. "Yes?" he said. The door opened, 

and Burton Fallin walked in. 
 
"Hi. You about done here, Nick? Sheila says if you want to pick out that leased 
car tonight you need to get over there by 6:00, and it's 5:30 now." 
 
At his father's words, Nick glanced at his watch reflexively. 
 
Burton continued. "If you want, you could head on over there, and choose a car. 
Then you could drop off the rental car, and I'd, uh, I'd pick you up from there. 

Call me when you're getting ready to head that direction - Sheila gave you your 
cellphone, right?" Nick nodded that she had. "Okay. Call me when you're on your 
way over there, and I can meet you." Nick nodded again. "Then in the morning, 
I'll drop you off at the leasing company, and you can pick up the new car. 
How's, uh, how's that sound?" 
 
"Okay. I'll finish up here, and go over there now." 
 
"Fine. Just remember to call me when you're on your way to the rental agency. 
Which one is it?" 
 
"It's Avis. I figured I'd drop it off at the airport." 
 
"Okay. We'll I'll see you a little later, son." 
 
"Okay." 
 
Burton left then, closing the door behind him. Nick briefly debated taking the 
papers he'd been working on home with him. He thought it was unlikely he'd 
actually pick them up again tonight, but it couldn't hurt to take them just in 
case. So, he put them in his briefcase. He stood up, and did a quick check of 
the room to see if there was anything he was forgetting. Satisfied there wasn't, 

he picked up his briefcase, and walked out the door. He paused to lock his 
office before proceeding down the hallway. The receptionist threw him a friendly 

'good night' as he passed by. He smiled at her, and nodded to acknowledge her 
farewell. Then he passed out of the front doors of Fallin and Associates, and 
headed for the elevator. As he waited for the car to come, he realized that he 
was eager to return the next day. Eager to get about the business of 
demonstrating to his father and the other people that mattered at the firm that 
he could pull his weight, that he could be entrusted with handling his own 
cases. He knew that was expecting a lot, given his level of experience, but he 
thought he was ready for the extra responsibility that it entailed. He was 
ready. He knew it, and he would convince others of the fact too. He intended to 
set this little corner of the world on fire. And that was a promise. 
 
 
END