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months, paid for three, and the landlord insisted he was not worried. He was patiently waiting in line with many other creditors. The law firm of Payton & Payton had once proven it could attract clients and generate fees, and its two partners were certainly capable of a dramatic comeback.
    Try this comeback, Wes thought as he turned in to a parking place. Is a verdict of $41 million drama enough? For a moment he felt feisty, then he was tired again.
    Slaves to a dreadful habit, both got out of the car and grabbed their briefcases in the rear seat. “No,” Mary Grace announced suddenly. “We are not working tonight. Leave these in the car.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    They hustled up the stairs, loud raunchy rap spilling from a window nearby. Mary Grace rattled the keys and unlocked the door, and suddenly they were inside, where both children were watching television with Ramona, their Honduran nanny. Liza, the nine-year-old, rushed forth yelling, “Mommy, we won, we won!”Mary Grace lifted her in the air and clutched her tightly.
    “Yes, dear, we won.”
    “Forty billion!”
    “Millions, dear, not billions.”
    Mack, the five-year-old, ran to his father, who yanked him up, and for a long moment they stood in the narrow foyer and squeezed their children. For the first time since the verdict, Wes saw tears in his wife’s eyes.
    “We saw you on TV,” Liza was saying.
    “You looked tired,” Mack said.
    “I am tired,” Wes said.
    Ramona watched from a distance, a tight smile barely visible. She wasn’t sure what the verdict meant, but she understood enough to be pleased with the news.
    Overcoats and shoes were removed, and the little Payton family fell onto the sofa, a very nice thick leather one, where they hugged and tickled and talked about school. Wes and Mary Grace had managed to keep most of their furnishings, and the shabby apartment was decorated with fine things that not only reminded them of the past but, more important, reminded them of the future. This was just a stop, an unexpected layover.
    The den floor was covered with notebooks and papers, clear evidence that the homework had been done before the television was turned on.
    “I’m starving,” Mack announced as he tried in vain to undo his father’s tie.
    “Mom says we’re having macaroni and cheese,” Wes said.
    “All right!” Both kids voiced their approval, and Ramona eased into the kitchen.
    “Does this mean we get a new house?” Liza asked.
    “I thought you liked this place,” Wes said.
    “I do, but we’re still looking for a new house, right?”
    “Of course we are.”
    They had been careful with the children. They had explained the basics of the lawsuit to Liza—a bad company polluted water that harmed many people—and she quickly declared that she didn’t like the company, either. And if the family had to move into an apartment to fight the company, then she was all for it.
    But leaving their fine new home had been traumatic. Liza’s last bedroom was pink and white and had everything a little girl could want. Now she shared a smaller room with her brother, and though she didn’t complain, she was curious about how long the arrangement might last. Mack was generally too preoccupied with full-day kindergarten to worry about living quarters.
    Both kids missed the old neighborhood, where the homes were large and the backyards had pools and gym sets. Friends were next door or just around the corner. The school was private and secure. Church was a block away and they knew everyone there.
    Now they attended a city elementary school where there were far more black faces than white, and they worshipped in a downtown Episcopal church that welcomed everyone.
    “We won’t move anytime soon,” Mary Grace said. “But maybe we can start looking.”
    “I’m starving,” Mack said again.
    The topic of housing was routinely avoided when one of the kids raised it, and Mary Grace finally rose to her feet. “Let’s go cook,” she said to