The Governor's Sons (42 page)

Her heart beat wildly at the thought of seeing Harland again, and at the future prospect of actually working by his side.
 
Walking through the Negro business district, she saw several well dressed colored professionals, as well as blue collar workers walking quickly through the streets.
 
The men took pains not to look in her direction, but she did get a few questioning glimpses from the smartly dressed colored women.

Leigh Ann wore dark sunglasses and her auburn hair piled high to look more sophisticated, and more like Audrey Hepburn.
 
She didn’t think anyone would recognize her. Her short sleeved linen suit, navy blue with a large collar, had three large buttons down the front of the jacket.
 
The narrow skirt fell just above the knee with a slit in back.
 
A navy blue handbag and matching pumps completed her ensemble, but she doubted her subdued attire was the cause of any looks thrown her way.
 
She knew it was because not many whites frequented this part of town.

Leigh Ann lifted her head a little higher.
 
“Well,” she said to herself, “they’d better get used to seeing me around here.”
 
If Lance were alive, he’d be so proud of her.
 
And so would all her friends at Antioch.
 
They’d all
talked
about what they’d do for black equality, but she was actually
doing
something.

This was Leigh Ann’s first time in the Negro business district, and she was surprised to see it as a thriving community filled with shops, restaurants, offices, a jazz club, movie theater and hotel.
 
The last address she’d read was 1225.
 
Now she slowed her pace as she approached Harland’s office.
 
It was a three story building constructed of light brown brick.

She removed her sunglasses and paused for a moment outside the glass door.
 
After checking her reflection, she forcefully pushed it open. Glancing at the envelope remnant again, she read Suite 7, then stuffed it and her sunglasses into her purse.
 
The office listing in the lobby indicated his office to be on the second floor.
 
She approached the elevator and pushed the button—and waited.
 
It was taking too long, so Leigh Ann found the stairs. The staccato rhythm of her steps echoed loudly in the stairwell.
 
Once on the second floor, she walked quickly down the hall.
 
Suite 7 was the last office on the right.

She stood breathless outside the door for just a moment.
 
Once composed, she strode inside, immediately noticing the smell of metal office furniture and typewriter ink.
 
She was greeted by a pretty brown skinned girl who sat at a metal reception desk.
 
Two large windows were to the left, both open wide.
 
A fan sat in one blowing at low speed.

“Hello.”
 
Although the girl smiled pleasantly, Leigh Ann felt threatened.
 
“May I help you?” she asked.

Once Leigh Ann saw a wedding band on the girl’s left hand, she relaxed.
 
“Yes.
 
I’d like to see Mr. Hall.”

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Yes.
 
Leigh Ann Kroth.”

“Oh.”
 
The girl smiled again.
 
Her teeth were very white and perfectly straight.
 
“Are you the Governor’s daughter, too?”

Leigh Ann was taken off guard by this question.
 
“Yes.
 
I’m his younger daughter. Why do you ask?”

Miss Perfect Smile hesitated.
 
“I saw your sister once in person.
 
You don’t look at all like her.
 
Now, I’ll buzz Mr. Hall for you.”
 
The girl pressed the intercom.
 
“Mr. Hall, a Miss Leigh Ann Kroth is here to see you.”

Harland didn’t respond right away.
 
“Thank you, Angela.
 
I’ll—I’ll be right out.”

“Miss Kroth,” the girl, Angela, said, “why don’t you have a seat?”
 
She motioned toward some metal office chairs with green vinyl upholstery in the small waiting area.

“Thank you.” Leigh Ann sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.
 
The walls around her were bare except for posters of Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass.
 
She looked at the selection of periodicals on a scarred wooden table.
 
Issues of
Ebony, Jet
,
and
The Crier
lay neatly arranged.
 
Just as she was about to choose one, Harland walked out to greet her.

“Miss Kroth, this is a surprise.” He smiled as he extended his hand.
 
He wore no jacket and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.
 
The world stopped—or at least it seemed to stop, as Leigh Ann stood up.
 
His handshake was firm and strong, and he looked even more gorgeous than she remembered.
 
When he released her hand, the world finally began to move again, although only in slow motion.

When Leigh Ann failed to say anything, Harland said, “Are you enjoying your summer?”

Leigh Ann nodded.
 
“Yes.”

“I assume you’re now an expert in legal research.” Harland smiled.

Leigh Ann laughed and shook her head.
 
“Hardly.”

“So, what brings you here today?”

She couldn’t answer that with one word, and she couldn’t believe she was so tongue tied.
 
“Uh—I,” Leigh Ann stammered as she struggled to speak coherently, then felt humiliated when she saw Miss Perfect Smile Angela trying not to laugh.
 
I’m
the Governor’s daughter, Leigh Ann reminded herself.
 
After taking a deep breath to restore her dignity, she self assuredly said, “I was hoping I could talk to you.”
 

“Of course,” Harland said kindly.

Leigh Ann almost sneered as she looked toward Angela.
 
“Alone, if you don’t mind.”

“No, no, not at all.
 
And by the way, Miss Kroth, this is my cousin, Angela.
 
She’s agreed to work as my secretary.”

“How do you do,” Leigh Ann said crisply as they shook hands.

“It’s a pleasure.”
 
Angela smiled, as though in on a secret.

“Let me show you to my office.”
 
Harland escorted Leigh Ann through a door behind the reception area.
 
“It’s not fancy.
 
The furniture is cheap, most of it used, but it serves its purpose.”

A large oak desk was situated in front of two open windows, bare except for the partially lowered shades.
 
Leigh Ann could see the expansive view of the business district below.
 
A metal bookcase leaned against a wall.
 
Only half full, two boxes of books sat on the floor waiting to be shelved.

“Please, have a seat.”
 
He directed her to another set of uncomfortable metal chairs in front of his desk.

Leigh Ann sat down.
 
She didn’t mind the discomfort in his presence.
 
Gazing at the oak desk,
 
it appeared familiar to her, and didn‘t look cheap.
 
“This is beautiful,” she said, smoothing her hand over the polished surface.
 
“It reminds me of—”

Harland laughed as he sat behind the desk. “So you recognize it?
 
It was your father’s.
 
He told me he’d put it in storage after buying new furniture for his law office several years ago. When he asked if I wanted it, I jumped at the offer.
 
But he wouldn’t let me pay him.
 
He insisted I take it as a gift.”
 
Harland smiled.
 
“Your father’s a good man.”

And he’d die if he knew I were here, Leigh Ann thought, while smiling a cardboard smile.
 

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
 
Harland offered.

“No, thank you.”

“How are your parents?”

“They’re just fine.”

“That’s good.
 
Be sure to tell them I said hello.”

“I will.”

“So, Miss Kroth,” Harland sat back in his chair, “what would you like to talk to me about?”

Leigh Ann noticed a copy of
The Negro and Urban Change
on his desk blotter
.
 
“Oh, Mr. Hall, I’ve been wanting to read that book.”

He pushed it toward her.
 
“You can have this one.
 
I planned on starting it today.
 
But,” Harland nodded toward the bookcase, “I have another copy packed over there in one of those boxes.”
 
Leigh Ann thanked him. “Perhaps we can discuss it sometime.”
 
Harland smiled.

“I…”
 
His smile was too dreamy.
 
It was the dimples.
 
They drove Leigh Ann absolutely crazy, leaving her almost speechless.
 
“I’d like that--very much.”

“Now, let’s get back to you, and why you’re here.”
 
Harland crossed his arms and leaned forward.

“Well—I was hoping that you—you’d be interested in having my help this summer—that is on a strictly volunteer basis.
 
As I mentioned to you at dinner a few weeks ago—at the Governor’s Mansion—I want to be a Civil Rights attorney.
 
I don’t think I could receive better training anywhere else, than working right here—with you.”

“Miss Kroth—I’m flattered.
 
But would your father approve?
 
Did he send you here?
 
Leigh Ann said nothing, but she could feel her face turning red. “I didn’t think so.
 
Being involved in the Civil Rights movement isn’t a very safe thing for a beautiful young lady like you.”

Leigh Ann dropped her eyes to the perfectly manicured fingers laced in her lap.
 
Harland sounded just like Daddy.
 
But at least he didn’t say go get married and have babies.
 
Why was Harland making things so difficult?
 
Leigh Ann wondered.
 
Now she had no choice but to tell him why she was really here.
 
Perhaps then he’d be more receptive to the idea of her working alongside him.

Leigh Ann again met his devastatingly beautiful, deep brown eyes.
 
“Mr. Hall—it’s not that I’m just interested in learning from you.”
 
She stood up and turned away for a moment, unsure of how to go on without sounding like an idiot.
 
Then, she pivoted to face him.
 
“You see, Mr. Hall, ever since I met you—I’ve felt a—sort of--connection between us.
 
And I feel--almost compelled to be with you--fighting for a common cause.
 
But it’s not just the cause that draws me to you—it’s you--yourself.
 
Mr. Hall, my interest goes--beyond Civil Rights where you’re concerned.”

By the way Harland sprang to his feet, he didn’t look the least bit interested in her, professionally or personally.

“Miss Kroth—Miss Kroth…”
 
Harland leaned across his desk pointing his finger in her face. He tried to speak, but was at an obvious loss for words.

“Mr. Hall, I—” Leigh Ann began.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave my office, Miss Kroth!”

“But, Mr. Hall—”

“Have you lost your mind, Miss Kroth?”

“No,” Leigh Ann said meekly.

“This is the land of Emmett Till—the land of
I
look at a white woman,
I
hang from a tree!”
 
His tone, as well as the smirk on his face, reeked of sarcasm. “How dare you come in here to jeopardize, not only me, but yourself!
 
Your father trusts me, and I don’t think he’d be at all pleased to know that you came here—to practically—proposition me!”

Crushed and embarrassed, Leigh Ann crumpled to her chair. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
 
“I—I didn’t mean to offend you.
 
But, Mr. Hall, please tell me something.
 
Did you feel—anything--anything at all--between us?”
 
Harland didn’t respond.
 
“You did—didn’t you?”

Harland hesitated.
 
“I did—but not in a—in a--”

Leigh Ann stood frustrated.
 
“You can say it!
 
Not in a
sexual
way!”

“Uh—yes.” Harland looked rather stunned by her choice of words.

What a prude, Leigh Ann thought.
 
She wasn’t an old fashioned girl.
 
She was a modern woman with views shaped by Betty Friedan’s
The Feminine Mystique
and Helen Gurley Brown’s
Sex and the Single Girl
.