Ross walked around the office trying to imagine a thriving law practice. The file cabinets were ready, the phones installed, but as yet there was no secretary or receptionist. The supplies in the small storage room hadn’t even been unpacked.
Ross whirled when he heard a sound behind him. Clients? “Dad, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see if the drapery people hung the drapes yesterday. Ah, I see they did,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “They smell new. I had to pay ten cents more a yard for the material. Because you get the morning sun, I wanted to be sure they didn’t rot. I stayed within your budget,” Jasper said proudly. “What do you think, Ross?”
“I think you did what I could never have done, just the way you took charge at Jory’s. Thanks. Woo hasn’t seen this yet. I did tell him about it, though. I described it to him the way you described it to me. He listened, but he wasn’t interested. Until he can walk through those doors, he isn’t going to be a participating partner. I’m beginning to doubt . . . what I mean is, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed for this, but I owe him my life. This doesn’t seem adequate compensation. Sometimes it seems I’m just interfering in my best friend’s life, making decisions for him, trying to . . . Jesus, what if I’m wrong?”
“Would-haves, could-haves, should-haves—there’s no place for words like that, Ross. You believe in what you’re doing. If for some unfathomable reason it doesn’t work out, then you’ll start over. Woo isn’t thinking rationally right now, the way Jory wasn’t thinking rationally. Your method worked with Jory,” Jasper added quietly.
“That was different. I love Jory. I do, you know.”
He said it so wistfully that Jasper felt he had to respond: “Sometimes, Ross, you have to become friends before you can progress to that next stage.”
Ross stared at his father as though seeing him for the first time. “Dad, did I ever say thank you for all you’ve done? I really needed someone, you came through for me. I have to be honest, I didn’t want to ask, but you just pitched in. I do thank you.” Then Ross blurted out, “Did you ever go fishing, Dad?”
“No, have you?” Jasper asked curiously.
“Once, with Lena. I was sort of thinking, if things get slow around here, after we get going, of course, it might be nice to hang a sign in the window that says, ‘Gone Fishing.’ I could teach you to bait a hook. You gotta throw the fish back after you catch them,” Ross said authoritatively.
Jasper’s head bobbed up and down. “I thought the object was to catch and eat them.”
“I don’t know how to scale, gut, and fillet them.” Ross grinned. “That’s lesson number two. I don’t think either one of us can handle that yet, so we’ll concentrate on catching them and throwing them back.”
“I’m not averse to that,” Jasper said happily. “Did you just stop by to check on things or are you here to work? If you’re going to stay, I can make us some coffee. I stocked the kitchen. I was going to unpack the supplies for you. A few green plants should be delivered this morning. The florist told me women like plants. I didn’t know that, did you, Ross? Flowers yes, everyone knows women like flowers.”
Ross smiled. Life was suddenly becoming a learning experience for his father as well as himself. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“This place is kind of austere, manly, superior, if you know what I mean. The woman at the florist suggested a garden dish for the table in the reception area. You’re supposed to keep magazines and ashtrays and maybe a dish of mints on it. It sounded right to me,” Jasper said. “What do you think, Ross?”
“I say we do it.”
The relief on Jasper’s face was almost comical. “I hoped you’d say that. I have everything in the trunk of my car.”
“You’re doing good, Dad,” Ross said. He realized he meant it sincerely.
His father realized it too, his chest puffing out proudly. “Ross, I was wondering if I . . . I’ve been thinking about something. You’re going to need some type of office management, someone to keep your books. I’d like to apply for the job.” He held up his hands at the shocked look on his son’s face. “Hear me out, Ross. After leaving Jory’s, I realized what a miserable, unrewarding, uneventful life I’ve been leading. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I missed the dogs, the cooking, the column. I missed belonging, being a part of something. I have a business as well as an accounting degree. Not that I ever applied my knowledge to anything in my life. I also realized my business acumen is probably quite rusty if not archaic in today’s business world. Based on that assumption, I hired myself a . . . tutor to bring me up to date. I’ve been studying since I left Jory’s. I feel confident enough to offer my services if you and your partner feel you can use me.” His shoulders squared imperceptibly when he concluded, “I of course want to be paid.”
Ross gaped at his father. He was serious. “I don’t have any problem with hiring you, and I don’t think Woo will either. It’s the compensation that might be a problem. If you’re prepared to take your salary in produce and other services, like we will, then it’s a deal.”
Jasper beamed. His hand shot out. Ross grasped it. The old man’s bone-crushing shake made Ross’s eyes water. “By services, you mean if a client comes in who’s a mechanic and he’s short of cash, he’ll service your car as payment, something like that?”
“Exactly. Woo says we cannot intimidate our clients in any way. What that means is we dress down, and your car has to go too. Are you prepared to give up cashmere and a luxury auto?”
“Of course. Those are just trappings. I’m prepared to move here if necessary. I can see myself living in a small house like Jory’s. But that’s in the future. Woo has to agree. So, I’ll make that coffee now. If you want, you can carry in the things from the trunk of my car.”
Ross, his face full of shock and awe, watched his father strut down the hall to the kitchen. He broke into a wide grin when he heard Jasper whistling. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
The morning passed swiftly, and it was mid-afternoon when Jasper said, “I think I heard the door open and close, Ross.”
“I’ll check it out.”
The woman sitting in the reception area with two children next to her looked tired. All of them were sucking on the hard candies Jasper had put on the table. An honest-to-God client. His and Woo’s first client. He felt giddy. He smiled and stretched out his hand. “I’m Ross Landers, can I help you?”
“Are you open for business?” the woman asked hesitantly.
“Next week is our official opening, but I have time now, if you’re prepared to step over boxes and cartons.”
The woman rose to follow him. She turned to caution the children to be quiet and not to take any more candy.
Ross reached for a yellow legal pad. His first client in his own office. Jesus. He hoped his expression was reassuring.
“I picked the children up from school and thought I would stop and make an appointment. I appreciate you seeing me like this. I want to sue someone,” she blurted.
“All right, Mrs. . . . ?”
“Newton. Eleanor Newton. My husband and I contracted to have a garage built, and this man, Duncan Pfeister, agreed to do it. We signed a contract. My husband signed it,” she said, pulling it from the depths of an oversize handbag. “Mr. Pfeister built the garage, but it’s crooked. It looks like Jack Sprat’s house. The windows are crooked and the roof leaks. He didn’t measure anything right. There’s . . . this belly in the concrete. You know, a hump of some kind. We asked him to correct the situation, and he says there’s nothing wrong. He needs glasses,” Mrs. Newton said vehemently. “He’s an . . . older man, and doesn’t take . . . suggestions or criticism well. I know he might carry insurance. We want our garage fixed. We can’t even get our car inside. My husband has talked to him, I’ve screamed at him, but it doesn’t do any good. He won’t talk to us on the phone anymore. Foolishly, my husband paid him. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. We’ve always paid our bills, and Oliver, that’s
my husband, said we aren’t going to start stiffing people. That means not paying them. How much will it cost to sue this man, and what are our chances of us getting our garage redone?”
Ross was scribbling furiously. He looked up. “Of course, you are within your rights to sue, but I always like to try other means before I resort to filing suit. Why don’t I write him a letter using very strong language? We’ll give him ten days to respond, and if he doesn’t, then we’ll resort to other measures. I can type up the letter myself this afternoon and mail it on my way home. We don’t have a secretary yet, as you can see. I can also search Mr. Pfeister out and speak with him personally. Will that be satisfactory?”
“I think so. Mr. Landers, my husband and I aren’t the type of people who go around making trouble. We don’t want to sue Mr. Pfeister, but I don’t see that we have any choice. I’ll tell Oliver what you said. A letter will be fine. How much will that be?”
“Five dollars, but you don’t have to pay me now,” Ross said.
“No, we always pay our bills. Five dollars sounds fair. Oliver doesn’t like anything on credit.” She laid a wrinkled five-dollar bill on the desk. “He’ll want to see a receipt.”
Ross wrote out a receipt, took her address and phone number. “I’ll send you a copy of the letter I write to Mr. Pfeister.”
The giddiness was still with him when he ushered Mrs. Newton to the waiting room. He was stunned to see the children sitting quietly with their hands folded. He also expected the glossy magazines to be scattered about and the candy dish empty. He was almost disappointed, and didn’t know why.
Jasper wore a wide grin when Ross made his way back to the kitchen where he was cleaning the coffeepot. “My first client,” Ross said proudly. “I’m going to write the letter now, but before I drop it in the mail, I’m going to drive by the Newtons’ and take a look at the garage on my way home.”
“Do lawyers do things like that?” Jasper asked.
“This lawyer does. This is Woo’s kind of law. He jumps in with both feet, both arms flailing, which means I go check out the garage. It’s ten minutes out of my way, and when it comes right down to it, what else do I have to do?”
“Ross, how would you like to take in a movie? We can catch a bite of dinner first downtown. Of course, if you have other plans or if you think hanging out with your father is not fashionable, I’ll certainly understand.”
“It sounds good to me, but I want to stop by the house. I called earlier, and my housekeeper said I had three calls from Lena. I’ll call her from home. Do you want to pick me up or shall I pick you up?”
“I’ll pick you up. Is eight o’clock okay with you? Ross, I thought, and this is none of my business, but you did say it was over between you and Lena, didn’t you?”
“It is. Her heart wasn’t broken, and neither was mine. Mother dangled the California carrot under her nose, and Lena sniffed it just the way Mother thought she would, then she yanked it away. Lena was devastated. I talked to her a few weeks ago and she was about ready to resign. She’s transferring to the University of Wisconsin for the fall term. I think she’s fed up, but that’s just my opinion. I think the call is to say good-bye.”
“The girl used you, Ross,” Jasper said coolly.
“But I used her too. We talked about that and had a good laugh. It was all part of my learning process. I figured that out on my own.” Ross chuckled. “Now, I have to get this letter drafted. It won’t do to keep my first client waiting one minute longer than necessary.”
Jasper retreated as Ross made a notation in his brand-new appointment book to follow up on the Pfeister letter in ten days.
Ross was so intent on the letter he was writing, he didn’t see his father leave. He didn’t notice the darkness creeping into the offices or that he was typing with only the light from the street shining through the windows. When he finished, he turned on the brass lamp to look for the roll of stamps he’d seen earlier. His job done, the letter on top of his briefcase, Ross leaned back in his new chair to prop his feet on the desk.
His thoughts weren’t on his father, Woo, or his first client, they were on Jory and the look on her face when he’d left the house earlier in the day. He closed his eyes to try and imagine the scene back at the house. The dogs were probably lined up waiting for dinner. Jory was cutting up the chicken gizzards and mixing them with noodles. While the dogs ate, she’d drink her pre-dinner cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette.
Was Jory thinking about him? God, she was pretty. She was everything he wanted in a woman. A wife, if she’d have him again. He missed her already, dreaded going back to his lonely house. Dinner and a late movie with his father would only take care of one day’s loneliness. What was he to do the other 364 days of the year? Work, work, work, he thought morosely.
He thought about Jory’s warm, golden eyes when he dialed Lena’s number at five-thirty. He thought about light brown tendrils of hair that curled around his fingers, thought of the pain he’d seen in those golden-brown eyes, of the perspiration soaking the curly hair as Jory struggled to do the therapist’s bidding. He admired her dedication, her thoroughness in wanting to get well. What surprised him most was the way she could swear at herself when she was too tired to go on with her therapy. She didn’t give up, though. He hoped Woo would do as well.
“Lena, this is Ross. I just got your message today. Is anything wrong?”
“I guess that depends on your point of view. Yes and no. I called to say good-bye. I’m leaving tomorrow for Wisconsin. How’s everything?”
“Jory is coming along nicely. Woo was due home today. He has to undergo extensive therapy. There’s no real guarantee he’ll walk again. Everyone is hoping for the best. I opened the new offices today and had my first client. I made five bucks!”
“Ross, that’s wonderful. I expect to hear great things about you in the future.”
“All the way in Wisconsin?”
“You could drop me a line from time to time. If you don’t, that’s okay too. I’ll write you a card just to stay in touch. Ross, I don’t know if you want to hear this or not, but I thought . . . I feel someone should know your mother is . . . well, what she’s doing is, she’s printing some pretty powerful exposes. There’s a story that came in two days ago, from a tipster, about . . . a well-known judge who, according to the informant, solicits call girls from his car. Justine wanted me to pose as a . . . as a prostitute and trap him. There’s a lot of things I’ll do for a story, Ross, but that isn’t one of them. I quit on the spot.”
“Good for you, Lena. Have a good trip, and take care of yourself.”
Lena laughed, a warm, trilling sound. “It’s perfect weather for ice-skating. Draper’s Pond is frozen. Do you know how to skate?”
“No. Do you?”
“I used to, but I have weak ankles. It’s fun. Maybe you should think about taking Jory,” she said lightly.
“Playing matchmaker, Lena? I don’t think Jory is in any condition to ice-skate.”
Lena laughed again, the sound just as warm as before. “Me, play matchmaker? Ross, you are so hooked on Jory it’s almost pathetic. As for her condition, get her a pair of skates with double runners. I’d recommend the double runners for yourself too. When people get cold they tend to huddle together, if you get my meaning. See you around, Ross.”
Ross grinned to himself when he replaced the phone. He thought he could hear Lena’s laughter long after he’d hung up.
He placed two phone calls then, the first to his father, canceling their evening. The second call was to Lieberman’s Sporting Goods store, where he ordered two pairs of double-runner ice skates, saying he’d pick them up within the hour.
At seven-thirty he was knocking on Jory’s front door. “Get your clothes on, we’re going ice-skating!”
“Ross, are you out of your mind? I can’t skate. What if I fall?” She was giggling, her golden-brown eyes sparkling.
Ross held up the double-runner skates. “You can’t fall with these. Little
kids three years old skate on them. What do you say?”
She wasn’t an impetuous person. She never did anything on impulse. Well, maybe it was time she did. “I’ll get my jacket.”
“What’s good about these,” Ross said later, “is they buckle on over your shoes. We’ll stay on the edge and hold hands. I never did this before. Have you?” he asked anxiously.
“When I was real little, and I seem to recall being on my rear end most of the time. Don’t you dare let go of me, Ross!”
Ross snorted, his face a mask of anxiety. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Don’t you let go of me either.”
“Race you, mister,” a youngster on single blades said.
“Some other time,” Ross said, sliding forward, Jory giggling at his side.
“I don’t think we’re really skating,” Jory said later as two five-year-olds whizzed by. When the five-year-olds passed them for the second time, Ross steered Jory toward a bench at the side of the pond.
“I think you’re right. We’re—”
“Shuffling our feet,” Jory said, finishing his sentence for him. “I feel incredibly old at this moment. I think we should go around the pond one more time and call it a night.”
“God, I thought you’d never say that,” Ross said, getting up and pulling her to her feet. “Hans Brinker I’m not.”
“The next time you get a brilliant idea like this, don’t include me. Swear to me, Ross,” Jory grumbled good-naturedly.
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