Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love (7 page)

I turned into the parking lot of a one-story brick building with none of the flair of Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. The structure could as easily have been in Bangor or Lubbock as Savannah. At one end of the building a simple white sign with black letters announced
SMITH LAW OFFICES
. Julie’s name wouldn’t join hers until she passed the bar exam. The building also contained an insurance agency, a two-person CPA firm, and a company that built swimming pools.

There were several cars in the lot. I parked in front of Maggie’s office, turned off the engine, and stared at the entrance. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself working at the office. I knew what it felt like to walk into the spacious reception area at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. How would it feel to be part of a much smaller, less established, more risky environment? If the firm failed, or the other two women decided after six months I wasn’t needed, where would I go? I would have burned my bridges with Zach’s firm. As I pondered my decision, Mr. Callahan’s wisdom seemed more compelling.

I decided to take a closer look at the office. If my fear increased, I would take it as a sign that working with Maggie and Julie probably wasn’t a good idea. I got out of the car and walked to the front door. Putting my hand against the glass to cut down glare, I could see what looked like a reception area. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a figure came into the reception room, turned toward the door, and saw me.

It was Maggie Smith.

Before I could run, Maggie smiled and waved. I weakly waved back. The petite lawyer with short brown hair opened the door.

“Come in,” Maggie said in the Southern twang she’d brought from Alabama to Savannah. “Julie and I were talking about you earlier today.”

I stepped into an area with two chairs, a love seat, and a coffee table with several magazines strewn across it. Industrial-grade beige carpet covered the floor.

“I was in Savannah for the weekend and decided to see the outside of the office.”

“Now you can see the inside, including your office if you decide to join us.”

Maggie didn’t seem uptight at all. In her early thirties, she had a girlish look that made her appear younger. She was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting sweater.

“You must be busy if you’re working on Saturday,” I said.

“Not really.”

She led me down a short hallway. A door toward the end of the hallway opened, and Julie Feldman emerged. About the same height as Maggie, she had a fuller figure and dark hair.

“Tami!” she cried out.

She ran down the hall and almost knocked me over with a hug. She released me and patted me on the cheek.

“I told Maggie over lunch you were probably sitting in a cave somewhere fasting and praying about what God wanted you to do with the rest of your life. And here you are!”

“Savannah is a better place to pray than a cold cave.”

“Totally.” Julie nodded. “But you usually like to make everything so hard. How did you get to Savannah? Did you finally get a car?”

“No, Zach picked me up.”

Julie tapped herself on the forehead. “Of course. Who needs a car? If Zach had been out of pocket, I bet Vinny would have flown down from Yale to squire you around. Are you staying with Mrs. Fairmont?”

“Yes.”

“How is she doing?”

“About the same.”

Julie turned to Maggie and began telling her about Mrs. Fairmont’s stroke the previous summer.

“And when Tami and Vince Colbert went to the hospital, he quoted half the Bible to Mrs. Fairmont even though she was unconscious. And guess what, she got better by the next morning. I used to put my math book under my pillow when I was a kid, hoping to understand fractions, but unconscious osmosis never worked for me.”

“It wasn’t half the Bible; it was only a couple of psalms.”

“That’s a couple more than I know,” Julie said. “And my people are the ones who wrote all of them!”

“I was about to show Tami around,” Maggie said.

Maggie opened a door to the left.

“This is the clerical area.”

It was a small room with two secretarial desks. One was in use, the other empty.

“Maggie and I are going to do a lot of our own word processing,” Julie said. “I can type as fast as I talk.”

“I doubt it,” I answered.

“Don’t be so catty. You’ve seen how quickly I can churn out a memo.”

“Shannon Carver is doing triple duty as receptionist, secretary, and bookkeeper,” Maggie said. “I met her when I was working in the DA’s office.”

“She wasn’t a defendant in a case Maggie prosecuted,” Julie added conspiratorially.

“But I met quite a few people in criminal court who surprised me,” Maggie added. “They were ordinary folks who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or made a random stupid mistake.”

“That wouldn’t happen to Tami,” Julie said, pursing her lips. “She’d have to ask directions to get to a wrong place, and she left stupid mistakes behind when she turned thirteen.”

Maggie laughed.

Behind the clerical area was Maggie’s office, a plain room with a single window and view of the access road next to the building. It contained a wooden desk with computer, a bookcase containing legal treatises, and two side chairs facing the desk. If Julie’s father was financing the office, not much of the money was being spent on fancy furniture. Of course, the wisest thing would be to make sure there was enough money in reserve to pay basic overhead costs until the firm began to have a cash flow.

“Come see my office,” Julie called out.

Julie was standing in the next doorway on the same side of the hall. Across from Maggie’s office I caught a glimpse of a windowless room with a wooden table surrounded by six chairs.

“That’s the conference room,” Maggie said. “That’s where I meet with clients, just like they do at the Braddock firm.”

When Maggie was in law school she’d worked as a summer clerk at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter, but, as with Julie, she didn’t receive a permanent job offer and ended up as an assistant in the district attorney’s office.

When I got my first glance at Julie’s office, I knew where some of her father’s money had ended up. It was identical in size to Maggie’s office with the same view through a single window, but that’s where the similarity ended. It looked professionally decorated. A stylish wooden desk was surrounded by matching furniture. Paintings hung on the walls. Two richly colored rugs hid much of the plain carpet underneath. A floor lamp and two desk lamps gave the room a warm glow.

“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

“L
ET’S GO TO
T
YBEE
I
SLAND,”
Z
ACH 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.