Mountain Top(225)

“But my life is dull and almost over. I want to hear about your day.”

She listened attentively. When I mentioned the luncheon at the Smith House, she interrupted me.

“My husband owned that building years ago and rented it to a printing company. The printing company moved to a bigger location, and Harry sold it to the people who redid the interior. The last time I was there was for a wedding reception.”

“Was it for the Colbert family? Vince Colbert is one of the other summer clerks. He’s from Charleston, but his sister had a reception at the place where we ate lunch.”

“Do you know who married his sister?”

“No ma’am.”

While I talked, Mrs. Fairmont ate a good supper. I nibbled in between sentences and ate faster when she left the table for a few minutes. We carried our plates into the kitchen.

“You’ll have to invite Julie over for supper,” she said. “Let me know, and I’ll ask Gracie to do something special. She cooks a very nice pork loin topped with a cranberry sauce.”

“That might not be the best choice. Julie is Jewish, but I’m not sure she follows any dietary laws.”

Mrs. Fairmont raised her eyebrows. “Gracie doesn’t know much about kosher cooking.”

I fixed Mrs. Fairmont a cup of decaf coffee.

“Let’s sit in the blue parlor,” she said. “I promise not to spill a drop.”

It was pleasant in the peace of the parlor. More than any other time since my arrival in Savannah, it reminded me of Powell Station. Mrs. Fairmont sat in a chair contentedly looking at interior decorating and antique magazines. From time to time, she would mark a page with a Post-It note. I curled up in a corner of the sofa and read my book about the Puritans. Flip hopped onto the sofa and let me scratch his neck.

“I’d like to call my parents before it gets late,” I said after time had passed.

“Go ahead.”

I used the phone in the kitchen. Mama answered then let me talk to the twins before they got ready for bed. After I finished with them, Mama held the phone so she and Daddy could both listen while I told them about my day. They were very interested in the conversation with Mr. Appleby about the merits of a tutorial education and Zach Mays’ homeschool background. I felt a twinge of guilt in revealing Zach’s history as new information. I didn’t give details about my work projects, focusing on the people instead. As I talked, I realized the anxiety I’d felt in the morning when I arrived at the office had subsided. It was a new world, but at least I’d established a beachhead.

“It sounds like you’re off to a good start,” Daddy said. “Take it each day at a time.”

“Yes sir.”

“Can you tell us more about the cases you’re working on?” Mama asked.

“No ma’am. The confidentiality rules are strict. But as a clerk I won’t have much contact with clients. I think most of the day will be spent doing research and getting to know the lawyers in the firm.”

“Don’t compromise your convictions,” Daddy said.

“Yes sir.”

“And we’ll be praying for the Jewish girl,” Mama added. “They’re the vine; we’re the branch.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m going to read Romans 9–11 before I go to sleep.”

I hung up the phone and returned to the parlor. Mrs. Fairmont was still sitting in her chair, but her head was tilted forward, her eyes half-closed. She yawned when I entered.

“I’m not much of a hostess,” she said. “Especially for a young woman like you.”

“No, this has been a great evening, just what I needed after all the pressure of my first day at work. I’m ready to go downstairs and read. But we should test the intercom connection between the basement and your room.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever use it.”

Mrs. Fairmont stood up and told Flip to go outside.

“Can we check it anyway?” I asked.

“Suit yourself.”

I followed Mrs. Fairmont as she slowly climbed the stairs. Flip rejoined us and scampered past.

“He seems happy that it’s bedtime,” I said.

“He’s always happy. That’s one reason I’m glad he’s with me.”

We entered the bedroom. A sudden urge to hug the older woman came over me. I leaned over and gave her a quick embrace. She remained stiff.

The intercom was on a bureau covered with personal items expected of an elderly woman like Mrs. Fairmont, who was meticulous about her appearance. On the corner of the bureau was the intercom unit. I found an outlet, plugged it in, and set it to “A.”

“I’ll run downstairs and call you,” I said.