“I have a long way to go in that department too.”
“Really? That’s not what Joe Carpenter tells me. I can’t remember when he was as impressed with the way a summer clerk or associate handled a pressure situation. He says you pushed him so hard he cracked.” Mr. Braddock laughed. “There is a boatload of lawyers in this city who would love to make that boast.”
“The truth is—”
“That you’re also very humble,” Mr. Braddock interrupted. He pointed toward Bob Kettleson. “And don’t think I’m unaware what you’re contributing without getting credit for it. Keep up the good work, and we may be talking about a longer-term relationship.”
The senior partner moved away. Vince came over to me.
“Did you impress Mr. Braddock without even trying?” he asked.
“Who knows? I feel more out of my league than I did as a ninth grader on the basketball court.”
“That’s not what everyone else thinks, especially me.”
30
I WOKE UP SATURDAY MORNING, STRETCHED, AND RELAXED FOR a few extra minutes as I enjoyed again the release of Moses’ burden. My burden, too, was lighter. As I lay in bed, I also reflected on the validation I’d received the previous evening at the cocktail party. It felt good, but I knew the praise of men was a hollow substitute for the approval of God.
After my morning run, I showered and brewed a pot of coffee. I tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into Mrs. Fairmont’s bedroom. Flip, who was curled up near her feet, barked in greeting. Mrs. Fairmont opened her eyes.
“Can I bring you a fresh cup of coffee?” I asked.
The old woman scooted up in bed and repositioned her pillows. “That would be nice, and you can tell me all about the party while I drink it.”
I’d just about finished my account of the previous evening when the doorbell chimed.
“Who could that be so early?” Mrs. Fairmont asked.
I bounded down the stairs and glanced through the sidelight. Standing outside with his black motorcycle helmet under his arm was Zach. I opened the door with a puzzled look on my face. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Mr. Appleby had a meeting in Mobile today.”
“We were supposed to, but the representatives of the shipping company had to reschedule the meeting, and we ended up returning just late enough last night to miss the party.” Zach looked at me and smiled. “Am I too late this morning to invite you for a ride?” he asked. “I know you like to get an early start on the day.”
Parked at the curb in front of the house was the motorcycle with sidecar attached.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Riding in the sidecar was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and I’ve already done it twice. Why don’t you ask your secretary or Maggie Smith?”
Zach pointed to his watch. “What female besides you is up at this time on a Saturday morning having already run ten miles?”
“It was four miles.”
“At least you’re wide-awake.” Zach stepped toward the door. “Do I have to enlist Mrs. Fairmont’s help to convince you to come out and play?”
“She’s still in bed, sipping her first cup of coffee.”
“Then you’ve finished your morning chores. I promise to have you back before the sun gets hot.”
“Can it wait until Monday?”
Zach pointed up at the blue sky peeking through the trees. “This is the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Let’s go or we’ll miss a great opportunity.”
“I know we need to talk—”
“And we will.” Zach tapped the helmet. “Microphones.”
Zach’s charm, when he turned it on high, was a worthy opponent for my willpower.
“Okay, I’ll tell Mrs. Fairmont. Where are we going?”
“To familiar places.”
I returned with my bag packed, and Mrs. Fairmont’s words to have fun chasing after me. I slipped into the sidecar and positioned the helmet without assistance. Zach drove slowly through the historic district, providing tour-guide commentary.
“How did you learn all these facts?” I asked into the microphone.
“Until you started working at the firm, Tammy Lynn, I had nothing to do in my free time except study local history.”
“Why did you call me Tammy Lynn?” I asked in surprise.
Zach turned his head sideways. I could see him smiling. “I’m not the only one who can research old records,” he said.
We turned onto the highway to Tybee Island. As we increased speed, I let myself enjoy the ride. We reached the marsh, crossed the bridge, and turned down the sandy road where I’d been so afraid. Zach pulled into the driveway of the burned-out house and stopped the motorcycle. We took off our helmets.