Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love

by Robert Whitlow

  “These are original paintings.” Julie pointed to a vibrant coastal landscape created with sweeping brushstrokes. “I brought the last piece down with me from Atlanta this morning. You’re the first to see it on the wall.”

  “And you’ve not passed the bar yet,” I blurted out.

  “Neither have you,” Julie shot back. “I’ve had fun decorating the office so it will be ready when I do. What do you think I should have done? Put in a table like the one we shared in the library last summer?”

  “No, no, you have the right to do what you want.”

  I glanced at Maggie.

  “Julie will probably meet with clients in her office instead of the conference room,” she said evenly. “I think it’s very tastefully done.”

  I wondered what Maggie really thought. After all, she was the senior partner in the firm, the person who would initially generate most of the business for both of them. Something didn’t seem right about Maggie’s spartan work environment compared to Julie’s lavish one.

  “This is for an associate attorney,” Maggie said, opening a door on the same side of the hall as the conference room.

  “Which means you,” Julie added, tapping me on the shoulder.

  It was a windowless interior space, smaller than the secretarial area. A copy machine rested against one wall.

  “The copy machine is temporary,” Maggie said. “Once the shelves are installed in the workroom at the end of the hall, it will go in there.”

  “I told Maggie you wouldn’t want the distraction of a window,” Julie said. “You can focus on one thing at a time, just like a man. Not me. I may be working on a research memo with most of my brain, but in the rear corner of my mind I’m deciding whether I want to go out for drinks tonight at a place on the river or settle for a few glasses of wine at my apartment.”

  “This is the best we have to offer,” Maggie said, resting her hand against the wall. “I shared my first office with an investigator who dipped snuff and spit into a cup he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk.”

  “They allowed that?” I asked.

  Maggie shrugged. “Smoking was prohibited, but Al Houghton was quick to point out that even when he used spicy dip he didn’t set his mouth on fire. He was the best investigator we had. Fortunately, he spent most of his time out of the office working cases. I just stayed away from that drawer.”

  “Don’t act so shocked,” Julie said. “I’m sure you’ve been around people like that all your life.”

  “Not in my family.”

  “There’s no need to worry. Maggie and I are going to make this a nonsmoking, nondipping, non-tobacco-chewing office.”

  “That’s one thing we’ll have in common with Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter,” Maggie said with a tight smile. “Let’s sit in the conference room for a minute.”

  The room was bare except for the table, chairs, and a painting on one wall. Maggie flipped on the light. There was a speakerphone in the middle of the table. Maggie sat at one end of the table with Julie and me on opposite sides.

  “This is exciting,” Julie said. “Our first firm meeting.”

  “I haven’t turned down the offer from Mr. Carpenter,” I said.

  “But I hope you will,” Julie said. “You’re going to be an awesome lawyer, and I want to work with you.”

  I waited for a wisecrack to undo the compliment, but none came.

  “Are you in Savannah to talk to Mr. Carpenter?” Maggie asked.

  “Not specifically; I came here to pray about the decision. That’s what I was doing in the parking lot before I came to the door.”

  “I knew it—,” Julie began, but Maggie cut her off with a look.

  “That’s personal, and I respect your privacy,” Maggie said. “But since you’re here, did you have any questions? I tried to cover all the practical stuff in the e-mail I sent.”

  A week after I returned to school, I received a formal job offer from Maggie and Julie. Like the proposal from Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter, it was contingent on my passage of the bar exam. Beyond that, there was little similarity: the amount of money involved was significantly less, there was no profit sharing plan, and the health insurance coverage wasn’t as comprehensive.

  “It was clear.”

  Maggie spoke. “I know we can’t compete with the initial salary and benefits, but here you’ll have an opportunity to develop your own business. If you don’t want to build your own practice, you should probably take the job at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. They can give you plenty of work. Not everyone has the temperament to be independent.”

  “Tami is the most independent person I’ve met in my life,” Julie scoffed. “She’s so independent it borders on the bizarre.”

  “And I never have to guess what you’re thinking,” I responded.

  “That’s why we’re the perfect storm.” Julie patted me on the arm.

  “Is that a good thing?” Maggie asked.

  “It’s a bad comparison.” Julie scrunched up her nose. “I should have said perfect team. Anyway, Tami and I are the dynamic duo. That’s what other lawyers in town will be calling us after we beat them up in court.”

  “You shouldn’t brag until you’ve done something,” Maggie said. “Even then, it’s not a good idea. The facts of the case, not the skill of the lawyer, usually dictate the result.”

  Julie pointed at her chest. “That may be the politically correct thing to say, but the bar hasn’t met me.”

  Being around Julie gave me the answer I needed. I’d developed a tolerance for her abrasiveness during the summer when I had no option but to endure it. But now I had a choice. Working with her and Maggie would submit me to unrelenting verbal torture with no end in sight. This wasn’t God’s will. I checked my watch.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’m expecting a call.”

  “Zach?” Julie asked.

  I nodded.

  “Is he taking you for a ride on his motorcycle?”

  “No, it’s too cold for that.”

  As I moved toward the door, Julie launched into a recap of my summer motorcycle adventures.

  “Tami is the only woman in America who always wears a dress when she rides a motorcycle.”

  “I rode in a sidecar.”

  Julie put her finger to her lips. “Don’t say that. It ruins the story.”

  Maggie held the front door of the office open for me. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Tell Zach I said hi,” Julie chimed in. “Give that cute ponytail of his a tug from me.”

  Maggie stepped outside with me. “I’m glad you’re praying about your decision. I should do more of that myself.”

  As I drove out of the parking lot, I felt sorry for Maggie Smith. If she’d prayed about setting up a practice with Julie, she might not be sitting in a bare-bones office with a legal diva moving in down the hall.

  5

  “LET’S GO TO TYBEE ISLAND,” ZACH SUGGESTED WHEN I CALLED.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Zach and I had gone to the beach several times during the summer, but I’d never put my toe in the water. I owned a one-piece bathing suit; however, I never wore it when men were present. Our church organized swim trips during the summer. Girls and boys were kept strictly segregated.

  Zach’s car rumbled over the cobblestones as we left Mrs. Fairmont’s house. I glanced out the window as we came to a stop at an intersection. I felt a lot of relief that I’d made up my mind about the job. I wanted to tell Zach, but it didn’t feel right. Not yet.

  Crossing the bridge to Tybee Island, we had a nice view of a coastal waterway that meandered through the landward side of a large marsh. The tops of the marsh grass rippled slightly in the breeze. A few white egrets swooped low over the water. The tide was going out, exposing mussel beds at the edges of the watery channels. Expensive homes lined the edge of the marsh on both the island and the mainland.

  Zach parked in front of a ramb
ling store that sold beach items. It had warmed up during the day, and I left my jacket in the car. Zach was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

  “Let’s walk on the sand,” he said.

  We stepped onto the beach south of the pavilion that had been busy during the summer. It was largely deserted today. Zach kicked off his shoes and stuck his socks in his pocket. I slipped off my shoes and held them in my hand. The sand above the tide line was cool and dry. Pieces of shattered shells lay strewn about.

  “Why aren’t there any whole shells?” I asked.

  “They’re beaten up beyond the surf. Early in the morning, it’s possible to find a few nice ones when the tide comes in. Let’s see what the water feels like.”

  Zach rolled his jeans up above his knees and turned toward the ocean. He had the well-developed calf muscles of a former soccer player.

  There was a breeze blowing off the water. I’d not brought a hat and my hair splayed out behind me like an untamed bridal train. I followed in Zach’s steps. My footprints fit easily within his. He reached the water and kept going until he was knee-deep. I stopped at the edge. The next wave came farther up the beach and washed over my feet. The water was cold.

  “This is as far as I go,” I said, stepping back.

  “You should feel the Pacific,” Zach said as he jumped higher to avoid a wave. “This is like bathwater.”

  Zach waded out of the water with a huge smile on his face. “When are you going to visit California with me?” he asked. “During Christmas break would be perfect. My parents would love to meet you, and my sister will be home from Africa.”

  “What?” My mouth dropped open.

  “Do you want me to repeat it slowly?” Zach answered with a smile.

  “No, I heard you. I mean, I’m not saying no, it’s just the idea that I would go to California.”

  “It’s a four-hour plane ride. I’d like to buy the tickets as soon as possible so I can look for a good discount.”

  “I’ve never flown in a plane.”

  “It’s a bus with wings,” Zach said with a straight face. “My mother was excited when I mentioned it to her. I guess she’s been worrying I’d never find someone I like enough to bring home.” He paused. “Truth is I hadn’t, until now.”

  Although I was standing still, I felt slightly breathless.

  “I’d need to ask my parents.”

  “Sure, that’s why I brought it up. But please do it soon. If I’m going to get any kind of deal on plane tickets, I need to book the flight as soon as possible.”

  My mind was spinning at the thought of traveling across the country. We didn’t talk as we continued walking toward the south end of the island where Tybee Creek emptied into the Atlantic. We were completely alone when we reached the tip of the island.

  “Would you be able to swim across?” Zach pointed to the shore of Little Tybee Island.

  “Maybe, but I’m a much better runner than swimmer.”

  “Last summer, Julie said you claimed to be able to walk on water.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yeah, but she said it with a smile on her face.”

  I dug my toes into the sand at my feet.

  “I saw Julie and Maggie this afternoon.”

  Zach turned toward me. “You went by their office?”

  “Yes. I didn’t know they would be there.”

  “What’s it like?”

  I told him about it and concluded by saying, “The spot they have for me isn’t nearly as nice as the office the firm has available for me down the hall from you. It doesn’t even have a window.”

  I dug my toes a little deeper into the sand, but as soon as I popped them up, the sand gave way.

  “Did seeing them and their office help you make up your mind?” Zach asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Yes. Working for Maggie and Julie would be a lot like building a house directly on this sand.” I paused. “And we both know what the Bible says about that.” The wind shifted and I brushed my hair away from my face. “It was a big relief. I didn’t say anything to Maggie. I’ll send her an e-mail later in the week.”

  “Do you want to go by the office and see if Mr. Carpenter is there? It would be great to tell him in person.”

  It was a much easier decision than whether to fly to California.

  “Yes,” I said. “It would be nice to talk to him in person. But if he’s not there, I can call him later this week.”

  We retraced our steps. I held my hands behind my back while we walked. Zach was intent on finding an unbroken seashell larger than a fingernail.

  “Here’s a decent one,” he called out from where he stood ankledeep in the surf. He brought the shell over and placed it in my hand. It was a nice semicircle with ridges that mimicked the waves. Underneath, it was smooth with a beautiful purple color along the edge.

  “It’s pretty. What kind is it?”

  “A clam. They have tougher shells than most, except for oysters, of course.”

  “Mama never taught us about seashells.”

  “You have a few things left to learn in life,” Zach answered with a smile. “That part of your education will be one of the jobs the firm won’t have to pay me for.”

  We returned to his car.

  “Should we go by Mrs. Fairmount’s house so I can change into nicer clothes?” I asked as I brushed the sand from my feet before getting into the car.

  “No, you look fine. If Mr. Carpenter is at the office, he’ll be wearing casual clothes.”

  A combination of excitement, anticipation, and nervousness built inside me as Zach drove us back to Savannah. I silently rehearsed my speech, particularly the part about making clear that I wouldn’t be forced to work on cases that violated my conscience and convictions.

  “What chance is there he’ll be there?” I asked at one point.

  “I’m not sure. He’s not required to get my approval of his work schedule.”

  I punched Zach in the arm.

  “Hey, that hurt. Did you get that left jab from your mother?”

  “No, that comes from having two brothers.” I paused. “And the need to get rid of a little bit of anxiety.”

  We reached the office. A prominent white sign in front of a two-story structure announced Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter— Attorneys at Law. The main entrance was guarded by a set of small stone lions. Everything about the place spoke of prosperity and attention to detail. I’d been afraid the first time I entered the building. That fear was born of the unknown. The nervousness I felt today came from the momentousness of the decision. I quickly scanned the cars in the parking lot.

  “Mr. Carpenter’s car isn’t here,” I said with a sigh of relief.

  “Yes, it is,” Zach replied, turning into the parking lot and pulling next to a shiny black Mercedes. “He bought a new one.”

  I flipped down the car visor and inspected my hair in the tiny mirror.

  “I look like I stuck my head in a clothes dryer.”

  “Tami, you look great. Don’t be vain. It’s a sin.”

  I raised my fist to punch him again, but Zach held up his hand.

  “And don’t give in to anger. Sorry. I was uptight when I met with Mr. Appleby to accept the job. I’ll be good if I can take you out to dinner to celebrate after you talk to Mr. Carpenter.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked past the lions and through the front door into a spacious lobby with a two-story ceiling. The floors were covered in dark wood, and a curving staircase led to the second floor. Oriental rugs and ornate furniture were arranged throughout the area. It oozed prosperity.

  “I’ll find him and let him know you’re here,” Zach said.

  “If he’s too busy, it’s okay. I can—”

  Zach held up his hand. “Just let me check.”

  He left me in the lobby. There was a much broader selection of magazines available than at Maggie and Julie’s office. The firm included publications that might interest clients who act
ually had money to pay for a lawyer. I paced back and forth. After a couple of minutes, Zach returned. Mr. Carpenter was beside him. The tall lawyer with gray hair and well-trimmed goatee was wearing a golf shirt and khaki slacks.

  “Tami!” he exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  He quickly came over to me and shook my hand.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Carpenter.”

  “I hope you’re having a pleasant weekend in Savannah,” he replied. “This place gets in your blood and draws you back.”

  “Yes, sir. Zach was kind enough to pick me up in Athens and bring me. I’m staying with Margaret Fairmont.”

  “How’s she doing?” Mr. Carpenter asked, then continued without waiting for an answer by saying, “Come to my office so we can chat.”

  I looked at Zach, who pointed up the staircase toward his office on the second floor.

  “I’ll be upstairs,” he said. “Come see me when you finish.”

  “I won’t keep her from you too long,” Mr. Carpenter replied smoothly.

  The principal partners in the firm had offices on the first floor. Mr. Carpenter led me down a hall covered in a thick carpet and through his private reception area, then held open the door to his office. The litigator liked boats. The walls were covered with pictures of yachts. The one in the picture that hung over his credenza belonged to him. Mr. Carpenter sat behind a large desk with a leather inlaid top and motioned for me to sit across from him.

  “How’s your family?”

  “Fine,” I responded, not remembering a time Mr. Carpenter had previously asked about my family. “I saw them last weekend. I also went by to see Oscar Callahan.”

  “Oscar’s a fine lawyer.” Mr. Carpenter nodded. “I always thought his talent was wasted up in the mountains, but he liked to play the gentleman farmer role. To each his own.”

  “Yes, sir. You like Savannah; he loves the mountains.”

  Mr. Carpenter put his fingers together in front of his face. “But the important question is whether you like Savannah, isn’t it?”