The senior partner wanted to see him in his office? And on a Saturday afternoon? This couldn’t be good. In the weeks since he’d been here, Mr. Buckley hadn’t called for him. In fact he’d been under the tutelage of John Deadmon, one of the junior partners. Alex gulped before he spoke. “He wants to see me? What for?”
Lydia smiled, and the reproachful gaze she directed at him reminded him of Ellen. “I’m not in the habit of asking the senior partner of the firm why he does anything, Mr. Taylor. I learned a long time ago it’s much easier to follow instructions than to determine the reason behind them.”
He grimaced and nodded his agreement. “I understand, Lydia. Just keep reminding me of that. I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing.” He picked up his suit coat that he’d hung on the back of a chair and shrugged into it. “If I’m being called to the boss’s office, I’d better try to look my best.”
Lydia crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “I think you’ll pass inspection. Mr. Buckley is not a tyrant like some people think. He’s been very kind to me since I’ve worked here. He has a love for the law, and he wants all his associates to share that love.”
“I admire your dedication to the firm.”
“Like I said, it’s my life. I’ve seen a lot of young lawyers come through here. But I must say, I’ve never been as impressed with anyone as I am with you. I’ve seen your academic record and read your letters of recommendation. I know you can make partner here if you work hard.”
Alex took a deep breath and pulled his coat sleeves over his shirt. “That’s what I intend to do. I’m glad to have you on my side. Keep me steered on the right path.”
“I will, Mr. Taylor.” She glanced at the box on his desk. “Now you go on to Mr. Buckley’s office, and I’ll finish unpacking these books for you.”
“Thanks.”
He headed down the hallway toward the suite of offices on the other side of the reception room. When he reached Mr. Buckley’s office, he stopped outside the door and took a deep breath before he knocked.
“Come in.” When Alex stepped inside, he was struck at once by the difference in this room and the one where he worked. Polished mahogany appeared to be everywhere. Alex had never seen such beautiful office furniture in his life. From behind his desk Mr. Buckley gazed at him from the padded chair where he sat.
“Well, close the door and come in, Taylor. No need to stand there like you’re scared to enter.”
Alex forced a smile to his face and closed the door behind him. He walked to the chair facing Mr. Buckley’s desk and waited for an invitation to sit. Mr. Buckley gestured toward the chair, and Alex eased into it.
“Lydia said you wanted to see me, sir.”
Mr. Buckley leaned back, propped his elbows on the chair arms, and tented his fingers. “I’ve been busy since you arrived and haven’t had much time to talk to you. I wanted to make sure Deadmon has helped you settle in.”
“Yes, sir. He has, and Lydia has been very helpful. Thank you for assigning her to me.”
He nodded. “Lydia has worked for me for many years, and she knows how to spot an up-and-coming lawyer. She tells me you’ve impressed her more than any other in a long time.”
“That’s good to know, sir, but I don’t know what I’ve done for her to judge. I’ve spent most of my time working on appellate briefs for some of the other lawyers.”
“I know. I’ve been keeping up with your work, and I’ve been impressed.”
Alex’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. I’ve found that more and more cases are being lost on appeal because of an ineffectively written brief. Some lawyers forget they learned about legal writing in the first year of law school. Instead they write what they think the judge wants to hear. Your briefs are tidy and to the point, just what I like to see. I wanted to compliment you on that.”
Alex smiled and let his shoulders relax. “Thank you, sir. I hope I can continue to impress you. I’ll certainly try.”
Mr. Buckley picked up an unopened envelope and tapped it against his desktop several times. “Why don’t we see if you continue to impress me?”
A ripple of concern swept through Alex, and he eyed the envelope with a wary expression. “How?”
“A letter came for you today. I wanted to be with you when you opened it.”
Alex frowned. “I didn’t think the mail was delivered here on Saturdays.”
“It’s not. I arranged for this one to arrive by special delivery.”
Alex’s bewilderment increased. “I don’t understand, sir. What is it?”
“It’s the results of your bar exam.”
Alex sat in stunned silence and tried to absorb the fact that Mr. Buckley had arranged with the bar examiners to send his results by special delivery. Did the man’s power have no limits?
Mr. Buckley handed the envelope to him, and Alex’s heart fluttered when he saw the return address. He swallowed and looked up. “I knew this was supposed to arrive in October. Now that it’s come, I’m afraid to open the letter.”
“Well, we have to find out the results. You might as well get it over with.” Mr. Buckley handed him a silver letter opener.
Alex slipped the blade under the seal and pulled out the folded piece of paper inside. He took a deep breath before he unfolded it and read the results. A wave of relief washed over him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I passed.”
He glanced up, and Mr. Buckley was beaming. “Good news, young man. I knew you could do it.” He extended his hand, and Alex rose to shake it. “Welcome to the firm. I know you’re going to be a valuable member.”
Alex smiled and sank back in his chair. He stared down at the letter and thought of Ellen. He could hardly wait to let her know his hard work had paid off, but she’d never doubted him. “Thank you for your confidence in me, sir. I’ll work as hard as I can for the clients of this firm.”
Mr. Buckley’s bushy eyebrows drew down over his nose, and he glanced at a folded newspaper lying on his desk. He picked it up. “I’m sure you will. But there’s still one area we need to discuss. I wondered if you had read the afternoon newspaper.”
Alex shook his head. “I haven’t had time. Is there something in it I should see?”
He pushed the newspaper toward Alex. “I thought you might be interested in a story on the front page. I believe the young lady in this picture is a friend of yours.”
“A friend of mine?” Alex frowned and reached for the paper. His eyes grew wide, and his hands shook. Sarah, seated next to a woman he’d never seen before, stared at him from the front page of the newspaper. He looked up at Mr. Buckley. “I—I don’t understand.”
“You haven’t read the article yet. The older woman in the picture is Carrie Chapman Catt, president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association. She’s in Memphis stirring up trouble for a few days, and she spoke to a large gathering at Mary Windsor’s house last night.”
Alex looked back at Sarah’s picture. “And Sarah was there?”
“Evidently so.” Mr. Buckley folded his hands on top of his desk and leaned forward. He directed a piercing glare at Alex. “Isn’t Miss Whittaker the young woman you asked me to help with an inheritance problem a few months ago?”
“Yes, sir.
“And at the time there was some kind of relationship between the two of you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And now?”
“That’s all over. It has been for weeks.”
Mr. Buckley relaxed and smiled. “Good. I can’t have my associates mixed up in all this suffrage nonsense. I just needed to make sure you understood what’s required of the people in my law firm.”
Alex rolled the paper into a cylinder and wrapped his hands around it. “I understand, sir.”
“Then I’m glad we had this little talk. Get everything out in the open, I always say. Now I’ll let you get you back to your office.”
Alex pushed to his feet, but before he cou
ld move, the door to Mr. Buckley’s office burst open. A young woman with long brown hair swept into the office and hurried to Mr. Buckley’s side. She stared down at him with big, brown eyes. “Daddy, I’ve been shopping, and I ran out of money.”
Mr. Buckley scowled and stood. “Larraine, how many times do I have to tell you to knock before you come bursting in my office? I might have an important client in here.”
She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “But this is Saturday, and you never have clients on days when you’re catching up on work. Besides, you have that new associate you’ve told me so much about, and I wanted to meet him.” She looped her arm through her father’s and batted her eyelashes at Alex. “Are you going to introduce us, Daddy?”
Mr. Buckley smiled at his daughter. “Larraine, this is Alex Taylor. Alex, I’m sure you’ve already figured out this is my daughter.”
Alex flashed a wobbly smile in the young woman’s direction. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Buckley.” He backed toward the door, the newspaper still clutched in his hand. “I’ll talk with you later, Mr. Buckley.”
Mr. Buckley nodded. “And Alex, congratulations on passing the bar.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Larraine’s eyes widened, and she held up a hand to stop him. “You passed the bar? When did you find out?”
Alex held up the letter. “Just a few minutes ago.”
“That’s wonderful.” She looked up at her father. “Daddy, we should invite Alex to dinner tonight to celebrate his success.”
Alex’s face grew warm, and he shook his head. “No, I couldn’t intrude.”
Larraine laughed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. You would be our guest of honor. Not all of Daddy’s associates pass on the first try.” She looked up at her father. “Tell him what time to be there, Daddy.”
Mr. Buckley only hesitated a few seconds before he nodded. “Larraine’s right. We should celebrate your success. Dinner is served at seven o’clock. Do you know where we live?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh, don’t worry about getting there, Alex,” Larraine said. “I’ll come for you in my car. I saw your address on the office roster, so I know where you live. I’ll pick you up about six-thirty.”
Alex realized her statement didn’t require an answer, so he simply nodded and walked out of the office. His legs shook so that he wasn’t sure if he would make it all the way back to his office. He lurched through the door and came to a halt at the sight of Lydia still unpacking a box.
“How did it go?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Fine. I found out I passed the bar.”
“Congratulations. I’m very happy for you.” Lydia’s nonchalant tone gave no indication whether she was happy for him or not.
“And I’ve been invited to dinner at Mr. Buckley’s house.”
Lydia pursed her lips and frowned. “Larraine?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
Lydia closed the box she’d been unpacking and directed an impassive stare at him. “Like I said earlier, I’ve been around here for a long time and have seen a lot of new lawyers come through here.”
Alex frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Lydia sighed. “I think you’re smart enough to figure things out for yourself. Just be careful while you’re doing it.”
She walked out of his office and left him standing in the middle of the floor trying to figure out what had happened since he’d stepped into Mr. Buckley’s office. At first he’d been thrilled over the bar exam and with the compliment he’d received. Then he’d been frightened of the implied threat Mr. Buckley delivered. And Larraine Buckley? He couldn’t even start to understand her.
Nothing had surprised him, though, like seeing Sarah’s face on the front page of the newspaper. He laid the paper on his desk, opened it, and smoothed out the picture. He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered how beautiful she’d looked standing with her skirt lifted above her ankles. He’d tried to forget her, but he couldn’t.
He dropped down in the chair behind his desk and stared at the envelope containing his exam results. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but he finally straightened. Suddenly he had an urgent need to talk with Sarah, to tell her he’d passed the bar, and…just to hear her voice. Since it was Saturday, she wouldn’t have classes today. Maybe he could reach her. He picked up the telephone receiver. Lydia answered right away.
“Yes, sir.”
“Lydia, can you get me Mrs. Edna Simpson’s School for Girls? It’s located on Adams Street.”
“I’ll get it right away, Mr. Taylor.”
Within a few seconds the call connected, and the voice of a young woman answered. “Mrs. Simpson’s School.”
Alex cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with Miss Sarah Whittaker, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Miss Whittaker isn’t here right now.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“I’m not sure, sir. She’s gone to a dinner meeting with Mrs. Simpson and Mr. Thorne. Would you like to leave a message?”
If she was out with those two, it could only mean one thing— a suffrage dinner. He slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. “No thank you. I’ll call back later.”
Alex hung up the phone, but he knew he wouldn’t call back later. Sarah had been right. Their paths lay in different directions, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
Chapter Twelve
October in Memphis had always been Sarah’s favorite time of year. Leaves were turning the bright colors of fall, and the nights were getting cooler. It also meant Christmas wasn’t too far off. The holidays were a time for family, but without her parents there was only one place she wanted to be this Christmas—Richland Creek with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Clara. She dreaded telling Mrs. Simpson and Roger. They expected her to be in Memphis.
In an effort to put the troubling thought from her mind, Sarah looked up at the chimney on top of Mrs. Simpson’s house as Roger’s car rolled to a stop in front. Smoke curled up the brick chimney and drifted across the night sky. Dora had a knack for knowing how to comfort the people she served, and she’d made a fire to welcome them home from the suffrage dinner.
When the three of them entered the house, Sarah rushed right to the fireplace and held out her cold hands to the flames. Roger smiled as he entered the room and came to stand next to her.
Mrs. Simpson sat down in a chair facing them, leaned back, and frowned at Roger. “That was quite a boring dinner. We need some new speakers in our group. I’m tired of hearing the same thing over and over.”
Sarah shook her head. “Oh, I thought it was a wonderful evening. I enjoyed every minute of it.”
Roger laughed. “That’s because this is all so new to you, but you’ll come to feel the way we do before long. That’s why I think it’s time we started preparing you to speak at some of our gatherings.”
Sarah turned to him in surprise. “Me? Who wants to hear me?”
“Evidently a lot of people. There were many at the dinner tonight who asked when they were going to hear from you, especially after your picture made the newspaper today.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “That was just luck the reporter chose me. It could have been anybody at the meeting.”
Roger cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “You think so?”
“Of course I do. Who—” She stopped, and suddenly the truth hit her. “Roger, did you have anything to do with my picture being in the paper?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “It’s amazing what you can get in the paper when you slip the reporter a few dollars. Besides, the man is a friend of mine. He was glad to do it for me.”
Sarah crossed her arms and directed a stern look in his direction. Her first impulse was to berate him for doing such, but the childish pleasure she detected in his eyes silenced her. Ever since she’d returned to Memphis, Roger had tried to make her happy, and she couldn’t be angry. After all, he wanted to promote
her within the Memphis suffrage group, and this was his way of doing it.
“I suppose it’s all right this time. But don’t do it again. I imagine some of the older ladies in the group are wondering why they weren’t chosen.”
Roger threw back his head and laughed. “Nobody wants to see those women in the paper. They want a beautiful, young girl like you.”
The newspaper lay on a table next to Mrs. Simpson, and Sarah walked over and picked it up. She studied the picture for a moment. It really was a good picture, and her pulse raced at the thought that a picture of her sitting next to one of the staunchest suffrage promoters in the country had made the Memphis paper.
She glanced up at Mrs. Simpson. “Would you mind if I cut this out and keep it?”
Mrs. Simpson reached out and patted her arm. “Of course not, my dear. You need to keep it to remember such an important night in your life.”
“Thank you.” As Sarah turned away, her gaze drifted to a small article at the bottom of the page. Her heart constricted at what she read, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Oh no.”
Roger straightened and walked toward her. “What is it?” He stopped behind her and peered over her shoulder.
Sarah pointed to the article. “There was a young girl murdered down on Beale Street last night.”
Roger leaned closer. “What’s her name?”
Sarah scanned the article again. “It says they’re withholding the name until her family has been notified. She was strangled.” She glanced up at Roger who now stood directly behind her with his hand on her arm. She eased away from his touch and turned to face him and his aunt. “That must have been horrible for her. She had to face her killer while he was choking the life out of her.”
Sarah glanced over at Mrs. Simpson, who looked as if she’d suddenly taken ill. “Oh, that poor girl.”
Roger arched his eyebrows and glanced from his aunt to Sarah. “It’s about time somebody cleaned up that part of town. Only prostitutes and gamblers hang out down there. In fact, I’ve joined a group of local businessmen who want to see Beale Street cleaned up. In years to come we want it to be an area that honors the place that gave birth to the blues.”
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