Life Support

by Robert Whitlow

  Freedom to do what she wanted as an attorney was sufficient reason to take the risks inherent in launching out on her own. Alexia had enough money in the bank to pay her personal bills for at least six months, and any bank in town, except the one controlled by Ralph Leggitt, would give her a credit line to help with start-up expenses. She could do her own typing until she was able to ask Gwen to join her.

  Alexia stroked Misha’s silver fur until she could feel the familiar rumble of purring under her fingertips.

  “I think we should stay here, and I’ll open my own office,” she said. “What do you think?”

  The cat’s purring didn’t miss a beat.

  Alexia spent the rest of the morning talking to clients. She tried to put a positive spin on her change in employment. One of the first people she called was Eleanor Vox. The older woman asked about her trip to France.

  “It already seems a long time ago,” Alexia responded truthfully. “Have you been to Provence?”

  “No. Hubert doesn’t eat foreign food. We had trouble finding a place he liked when we went to San Francisco a couple of years ago.”

  “There was mail from your husband’s lawyer on my desk when I returned,” Alexia said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I’ll forward it to you as soon as possible. However, there has been a change in my law practice. I’m no longer with Leggitt & Freeman.”

  “Really? You’re not leaving Santee, are you?”

  “No. I’m going to open my own office, but until I have a new phone number, call me on my cell phone or at home.”

  Alexia gave her the numbers.

  “When did you decide to go out on your own?” Eleanor asked. “You didn’t mention it when we talked the other day.”

  It was a personal question, but Alexia would eventually have to tell Mrs. Vox about the conflict. She went directly to the point.

  “One of the reasons involved friction between my practice and other parts of the firm’s business. Your case was mentioned because your husband has connections with transactions handled by Ralph Leggitt, one of the senior partners. Even though Hubert’s name wasn’t on our client list, I was asked to withdraw from your case.”

  “You left your firm over me?” Eleanor replied with obvious surprise in her voice. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “No. It was just the beginning of a discussion that led to a parting of ways.”

  “I’d hate to think I got you in trouble.”

  Eleanor Vox was a nice lady. Continuing to help her gave Alexia immediate confirmation about her decision.

  “No, it will be better for me in the long run; however, we may face a motion from your husband’s lawyer to remove me as your attorney. He’ll argue that I had access to privileged information that gives me an unfair advantage. Technically, it’s not true because Hubert was never a client of Leggitt & Freeman, so I don’t think the judge will make me withdraw.”

  “I hope not. I’ve felt better since we talked the other day. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Oh, one other thing. You may be contacted by someone from my old firm. Just tell them I’m still your lawyer and that should be the end of it.”

  “They made a big mistake when they let you leave.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know about my new office in a few days.”

  The encouragement Alexia received from her clients boosted her spirits. Woman after woman expressed her support. It was better than a testimonial dinner for a retiring schoolteacher. One person she called was a real-estate agent named Rachel Downey, a longtime Santee resident.

  Except for a few loose ends to tie up, her case was almost finished.

  “Do you have a new office yet?” Rachel asked, after hearing about Alexia’s decision.

  “No. Any suggestions?”

  “There is a little house that came on the market yesterday two blocks from the courthouse. It’s been residential rental property, and the owner is wanting to sell in a hurry.”

  “I’m not sure I want to buy anything. My long-term plans aren’t set.”

  “You should consider it. The asking price is reasonable, and I’d suspect the owner would take a few thousand dollars less.”

  “Which street is it on?”

  “King Street. It’s gray with black shutters.”

  Alexia knew the area but couldn’t visualize the house. Rachel read the description from the information on the multilisting realtor service. By the end of the conversation, Alexia had scheduled an appointment to view the property at three o’clock that afternoon.

  She then spent several hours on the computer making projections of income and expenses. She had no experience in the business side of a law practice, but she knew that if she kept her overhead low there would be less pressure to generate revenue. Doing her own typing and hiring an answering service would keep her from having to immediately incur the weekly cost of a secretary/receptionist. She was confident that Gwen would join her, but she didn’t want to offer her friend a position until she had a stable foundation. Preoccupied with her plans, she worked through lunch. She ate a cup of yogurt and called Gwen’s direct line at the office.

  “Anything happening today?” she asked.

  “I have a list of people who called.”

  Alexia told her about the response of her clients.

  “Client satisfaction is all based on trust, and your folks know they can count on you,” Gwen said. “Are you going to talk to another firm? I’m sure several would like to bring you in.”

  Alexia took a deep breath. “No, I’m going to open my own office.”

  “Yes!” Gwen exclaimed. “You can do it. I’ve worked for sole practitioners before. It takes a special type of personality, and you have it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s the difference between the lone wolf who’s left the pack and a buffalo who travels in a herd.”

  Alexia smiled. “Are you calling me a wolf?”

  “You’re not a fat, lazy buffalo,” Gwen replied. “That’s more Leonard’s speed. You have enough wolf in you to make it on your own.”

  “Thanks, but shake me if I start howling at the moon.”

  “I’ll be there. Should I give my one-day notice and start next week?”

  Alexia laughed. “You know I want you to come, but let’s wait until I get on my feet. I don’t want you to miss a paycheck and suffer chocolate deprivation. I’m moving fast. I called Rachel Downey. She’s going to show me a little house for sale on King Street at three o’clock. What do you think?”

  “That’s close to the courthouse. Would it need renovation?”

  “Yes, it’s been a rental house.”

  “Okay. If you decide to buy it, let me know and I’ll bring my paintbrush.”

  Gwen’s loyalty was more touching than all the other words of affirmation Alexia had received while phoning her clients. Still emotionally fragile, she suddenly teared up.

  “Uh, thanks. You’re the greatest.”

  Unaware of Alexia’s reaction, Gwen continued. “Ditto. Oh, Rena Richardson called again.”

  Alexia rubbed her eyes. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes. She already knew you weren’t working here.”

  “I wonder how she found out?” Alexia asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Leggitt told Ezra Richardson, but after what happened the other night, I doubt Rena and Ezra are on speaking terms.”

  “Do you want me to call her back for you?”

  “No, I don’t want you to get into trouble doing my work. I’ll take care of it before the end of the day.”

  Later, Alexia drove to town for her appointment with the realtor. Turning down King Street, she passed a convenience store and a large home that had been turned into an insurance agency. She immediately spotted the property for sale even though there wasn’t a sign in front. She’d never noticed the house because it was concealed from the street by huge, overgrown boxwoods. In the middle of the small front yard were two clusters of crape myrtles tha
t had graduated from bushes to small trees. The crape myrtles were past their late summer blooming phase, but earlier in the year the limbs would have sagged under the weight of heavy, reddish-purple blooms.

  As Rachel had told her, the house was painted a light gray with black shutters. Alexia’s first impression was negative. The house was as neglected and dreary looking as a nineteenth-century spinster who never left her sitting room. The front door was painted the same gray as the house, and the roof was covered with black shingles. A narrow, red brick chimney climbed up the right-hand side of the house.

  A skinny driveway led to a garage that was barely visible to the rear of the property. It was a typical bungalow built in the early 1950s, when living two blocks from the town’s main street would have been considered convenient. Most of the retail stores that were nearby when the house was built had moved to outlying areas or gone out of business.

  Rachel Downey’s car was in the driveway. The personalized license plate on her sleek, pearl-colored sedan read “SOLD2U.” Rachel had taken back the name of her first husband at the time of her divorce from her third one, but at the moment, Alexia couldn’t remember the exact reason for her rekindled affinity to husband number one. A short, jolly woman with curly hair dyed a startling blonde, Rachel had made a lot of money selling vacation property. It had been a tough fight keeping her third husband from collecting alimony. The realtor was walking in the backyard and came around the corner of the house as Alexia pulled into the driveway.

  “Just checking the backyard,” she said in a cheery voice. “It has the potential to be a garden spot.”

  Alexia joined her and walked to the rear of the house. Anytime a realtor used the word “potential” it meant the current condition was abysmal. Sure enough, the sun-splashed backyard was mostly dirt with a few scrubby clumps of sickly grass. A rusty tricycle was turned over beside a wooden fence that ran along the rear of the property.

  “It looks ready for plowing,” Alexia said. “There isn’t much growing that would get in the way.”

  Rachel waved her hand as if it were a magic wand.

  “Oh, you could turn it into a delightful little courtyard by adding some brick pavers, a fountain, and a few large pots of flowers. The rest of it could go natural with pine bark and shrubs.”

  Alexia smiled. “Okay, let’s go inside.”

  They walked around to the front steps.

  “What about the crape myrtles?” Alexia asked. “I would need a sign out front so that people could find the office.”

  “You’d need to remove a few branches that are crowding the sidewalk, but the rest can be sculptured by trimming the bottom limbs so that the growth doesn’t branch out until four or five feet in the air. The boxwoods would have to be scalped, but in a year they would come back. It would be very classy. Kind of an old English look.”

  Alexia doubted crape myrtles grew in Devonshire but didn’t argue.

  Rachel unlocked the front door and continued her chatter. “The owners are a couple who live in New Jersey. The wife inherited the house from her mother. They’re tired of dealing with renters and want to sell. The price might be a little high for a private residence, but everyone knows this street is going commercial. I double-checked the zoning, and you can do whatever you want except open a liquor store.”

  The door led into a small foyer with a wooden floor. There was a living room to the right and a dining room to the left. The inside of the house was in better shape than the backyard. The wood floors had been refinished. They walked down a hall past a bathroom to the kitchen at the back of the house. The master bedroom was behind the living room. While they walked through the house, Rachel’s experienced eye picked up details that she pointed out to Alexia.

  “You could turn the living room into a multipurpose reception area and secretarial space. Clients could sit by the fireplace while waiting to see you, and your secretary could serve as hostess. I always thought it was a nice touch how we drank coffee or tea together when I visited your office. With a new coat of paint and the right rugs this could be even more homey.”

  “You make a visit to a lawyer’s office sound like a social call. Most people would rather go to the dentist than to a lawyer.”

  “Not me,” Rachel responded. “You charged more but hurt less.”

  “And I’m not sure I’m going to hire a secretary immediately.”

  “Oh, as busy as you are, it won’t be long before you need help. Doesn’t Gwen Jones still work for you?”

  Alexia didn’t want to start any rumors that might get back to Gwen’s bosses.

  “Yes, but I shared her with another lawyer at Leggitt & Freeman, and she has a stable job with good benefits.”

  They stepped into the dining room. It was covered with silver-striped wallpaper that was a cousin to aluminum foil. A brass chandelier hung from the ceiling. At the sight of the wallpaper even Rachel grimaced.

  “This wallpaper would have to go,” she said. “But the chandelier is nice. You could position your desk under the light.”

  “Are you sure the dining room would be a better office than the master bedroom?” Alexia asked.

  Rachel nodded. “This room can be fixed up in a jiffy and would be very classy. You’d need to get it wired for your computer gadgets and bring in nice furniture. All the items you’ve collected during your travels would look great in here.”

  Seeing the house through Rachel’s eyes began to spark Alexia’s own imagination.

  “How long do you think it would take to get it ready?” she asked. “I would have to work out of my home and meet clients somewhere else until it was ready.”

  “It depends on who does the work. You don’t need a big contracting crew to do what needs to be done. Do you know anyone who does remodeling work?”

  Alexia thought about Ted Morgan. “Yes.”

  “If he’s not too busy and can get started soon, most of the work could be done in a few weeks. It’s all cosmetic. In the meantime, there is a vacant office at my place. You could rent it for a month or two while the renovation is going on here.”

  “That would be ideal.”

  “I’ll get a blank sales contract from the car,” Rachel said.

  Alexia held up her hand. “Wait. Don’t rush me. I can see that the house might work, but I’d like to think it over.”

  Rachel looked concerned. “I wouldn’t wait. This place is going to sell fast. If you want it, you should make an offer now.”

  Alexia smiled. “Are you using high-pressure sales tactics?”

  Rachel feigned a hurt expression. “Never, but buying it would be a smart move. After seeing the interior of the house, I’m surprised at the asking price. It’s in good shape.”

  Alexia looked around and for the second time that day made a quick decision.

  “Okay. Make an offer eight thousand dollars under the listing price.”

  “That’s quite a drop,” Rachel said dubiously.

  “If the owners want a quick sale, they may bite,” Alexia replied. “I’ll probably have to spend more than that fixing it up and want to keep my overhead as low as possible.”

  Outside, Alexia looked at her watch. She had time to stop by Sandy Flats Church and find out if Ted Morgan was interested in a new job.

  On the way she drove by Leggitt & Freeman. It was odd passing the parking lot without slowing down, but Alexia held the wheel steady. Never again would she stop and check her phone messages before going home for the day. When she came back to pick up her files, it would be like visiting a house where she’d lived in the past.

  No sounds of piano music greeted her when she quietly opened the front doors of the church and stepped into the narthex. Ted Morgan was not in sight in the sanctuary. She took a few steps down the aisle and the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet.

  A deep-throated voice said, “Who’s there?”

  Alexia jumped.

  “Ted? Is that you?”

  “No,” the voice answered in even deeper
tones. “This is God.”

  “Come out, Ted,” she said. “Your impersonation of God could use some work. Is that the voice you use to scare children?”

  Ted peeked over the top of a pew where he’d been kneeling near the piano.

  “No, only lawyers who interrupt my prayer time.”

  Alexia was walking down the aisle toward him and stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were praying. Should I leave?”

  Ted got up and sat on the pew. “No, I was almost finished.”

  Alexia joined him and sat sideways with her arm on the back of the bench. “How did you know it was me?”

  “A guess. You’ve been coming by regularly.”

  Alexia suddenly felt insecure. “Is that okay?”

  “Anybody who loves music like you do is always welcome. How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Better. I had a good time in here yesterday. I can’t say that I prayed, but I cried a lot, and it was an opportunity to let my feelings out.”

  “That’s healthy. Did anything else happen?”

  “Yeah.” Alexia told him about the encounter at the window. “The expression on Jesus’ face was similar to how you looked at me in the kitchen when I told you that I’d been fired. It was eerie.”

  Ted glanced at the window. “Is that good or bad?”

  “Oh, good. I should have used another word.”

  Ted shifted on the pew so he directly faced her. “I hope people see a reflection of Jesus when they meet me. That’s how God works. He uses people to show the world what he’s like.”

  Alexia mulled over his comment for a few seconds. “I’ve never thought about religion in those terms. I’ve connected it with going to church and believing in God.”

  “That’s part of it, but there’s much more. Faith in Jesus is the first step, but what God does in a person’s life after they believe is the exciting part.”

  “Exciting?” Alexia asked dubiously.

  Ted nodded. “Yeah. It’s the beginning of the adventure of faith—the chance to be fully alive.”

  “What do you mean by fully alive?”

  Ted went over to the piano bench and sat down. He hit a few random notes. “Have you heard about the young man who fell from a cliff while hiking and is on life support in a Spartanburg hospital?”