“Oh, people go whenever. Mr. Hicks just wants the work done right and on time. The rest is up to you. Well, have a great day. I hope I haven’t talked your ear off,” she said, lowering her head as if she was all of a sudden embarrassed at her candor.
“No, it was wonderful. Thank you for sharing the story about my mother.”
“She really is a wonderful lady. Now, take care, you hear. And call me for anything,” she said as she turned to leave.
“I’m sure I will.” And I knew I would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
My breakfast Coke had settled itself in the most uncomfortable of ways. I headed down the hall to the restrooms and turned right at the first corridor, certain that this was where they were. Yet no friendly stick figures with skirts or slacks beckoned me. By the time I had rounded the fifth corridor, I was welcomed to the world of mayhem. It was the sports department. People were just loud in there. They talked loud and called each other by sport names: “Champ,” “Sport,” “Superstar.” Televisions blared all around with golf, tennis, baseball, even reruns of last year’s football games.
Now, far be it from me to be critical, but who in the world wants to watch a sporting event when you already know the outcome? Like me, these sportswriters had their own cubicle world, but theirs was red and black, the color of the Georgia Bulldogs. Seemed only fitting. There were a few black ones thrown in to add a flair of the Falcons. Yet, for all their excitement, they were none too observant of the fact that I was about to have to cross my legs and plop down on the floor right in the midst of them unless someone delivered me. Finally, a friendly soul took note.“You look lost.”
“Desperately.”
“Where were you headed?”
“The r-e-s-t-r-o-o-m.”
“Ooh, that bad huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right down the hall, then take the first left.”
I nodded in appreciation. As I made my way down the hall, it opened back to the place where I had begun, and there before me was a lovely left turn I should have taken instead of the right one I chose. I kept walking, hoping no one would notice that I had made a complete circle of the first floor.
My cell phone rang as soon as I put the key in the ignition. Mother’s work number came up on the caller ID.
“Hello.”
“Hello, darling. I hope you’re not too busy.”
“No. I’m actually just leaving to meet Paige at Clary’s for lunch. What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m just heading out to a meeting and wanted to see how your first day is going.”
“Well, wonderful except for the fact that I’m not sure what to write,” I said flatly.
“Why not? Have you not heard from Mr. Cummings?”
“Actually, I have. He called me this morning as soon as I sat down at my desk. He let me know in no uncertain terms that I really didn’t want to pursue this story any further.” I sighed. “I could call Gregory and we could dig a little more, but this whole thing is just out of my league. Part of me thinks I’ve missed the whole thing,wasted people’s time, pursued the wrong story. I don’t know. I should probably be writing books. I could ruin Gloria’s legacy if I don’t do a good job on this first piece. I just wanted it to be so perfect.”
“Savannah Phillips, I have to say, I am ashamed of you at this very moment. You have said nothing but negative things since you started this job . You can do this. You will do it, and you will do it well. You will not let some old coot threaten you, and you surely won’t embarrass me or Gloria by the article you write. But you will quit this pity party and write your story. Now, don’t you say another negative thing, or your very words are going to trap you. Go, kick butt, and take some names.”
“I know you did not just say,‘kick butt and take names,’” I said, laughing hysterically.
“Isn’t that what they say?”
“I don’t know who ‘they’ are,but you should not be saying ‘butt.’”
“Well, whatever you need to be doing, start doing it. You are Savannah Phillips, and you are not a negative child. Now quit with all that doom and gloom and get in there with some heart and some life. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am, I hear you perfectly.”
“Good. Now your mother’s glad she called you. You must have needed to hear what I had to say. I love you. Will you be home for dinner?”
“I’m glad you called. I love you too. And yes, I plan to be home for dinner, but I might be late, working on this story.”
“Well, I’ll wait and have dinner around seven, so you can take your time. Now, chin up, young lady.”
“Yes, ma’am, chin up,” I repeated, laughing. “I’ll see you tonight.”And with good-byes, she hung up. Margaret was right. She really was a great lady.
By the time I reached Clary’s, I had convinced myself I could write a story. Somehow, the pieces would come together, and my story would be what it needed to be and say what needed to be said. Paige was already inside at our usual spot, had ordered our food, and had a Coke waiting on me.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said once I could breathe. My eyes watered from the powerful intake.“How is it possible you arrived before me?”
“I was bored. How are you, stranger? And where are your real clothes?” she asked.
“I found out that I can bring a Coke to my job, wear flip-flops, and work in the park if I want to, as long as my work gets done. You couldn’t ask for anything better than that,” I said, taking another drink.
“So how totally awesome is your office?”
“Well, it’s not exactly an office.”
“But you said it had big windows and overlooked Bay Street.”
“Actually it has no windows and overlooks the path to the bathroom.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re taking Gloria’s place. Do they think you can just work anywhere? Well, you can’t, and you should tell them. So what’s it like exactly?”
“It’s exactly like a cubicle made of gray Styrofoam.”
“Oh my stars. You poor pitiful creature. Are you totally depressed?
If I had to look at gray all day, I would be totally depressed.”
“I’m more worried about what I’m going to write inside those four pitiful, dreary walls.”
She rested her elbows on the table and leaned in not to miss a word.“Right. Your first article. Tell me everything.”
I tried to sound totally confident.“Well, I don’t know exactly.
But it’s going to deal with beauty queens, a rigged pageant, and all of that.”
“Savannah, I knew that a week ago. What is the story going to say?” she asked, looking disappointed.
“Well, I haven’t worked it all out yet. But I will have it completed by tomorrow at two, and you can read it Wednesday morning with the rest of the city,” I said with a smile.
“You have nothing, do you?”
“No! That is not true! I have a lot of somethings I’ve yet to combine into a perfect something. Just trust me. It will all come together. I promise.”
“I hope you’re right!”
“We must be positive, now. I’m sure I’m right.”
Helen brought our BLTs and chocolate shakes, Paige caught me up on her weekend, and I told her all about mine. She had already heard about Emma from her mother, who had spent the majority of the weekend with my mother, shopping and working in their gardens. Paige said that Vicky had told Sheila that I was up to something that she had no idea about, but that she was going to find out as soon as I got home. I told Paige how Mother and I had talked, and then an hour was gone. I was not used to lunch on a time frame. But I felt like I needed to toe the line for at least the first month, then I could make everything more flexible.
Heading back to the paper, it dawned on me that Mr. Hicks had yet to visit my flavorless world. He had probably forgotten that I even started today. But I would let him seek me out. There was no need for me to go looking for trouble toda
y.
I returned to my desk and decided to contact each involved party one more time. My first call was to Mrs. Harvard from Atlanta, hoping some twinge of compassion for me might cause her to reassess her reluctance to tell me everything she knew. I left her a brief but pathetic-sounding message on her answering machine, along with every number I knew, including my mother’s cell phone. Who knew when she might break. The next call rang only twice before it was picked up by a determined two-year-old.
“Hewo . . . ”
“Hello, is Emma there?”
“Hewo.”
“Yes, this is Savannah. Is your mother home?”
“Mama go potty.”
“Oh, that’s nice. So is your mother in the restroom?”
“Potty, potty.”
“OK, I got that part. Is your brother or sister there?”
“Hewo.”
Finally, the line went dead. I decided I would try one last time to get Katherine to talk.
“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Hello, Katherine, it’s Savannah.”
“Well, hello, sweet girl. I haven’t seen you in way too long.
You must be working up a storm. You started your job today, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I sure did.”
“So, how are things going?”
“Well, to keep it positive, I believe I’ll have something to talk about by tomorrow. No one has been willing to reveal anything much so far, and I’m trying to avoid becoming a sleazy undercover journalist.”
“I’m glad you have chosen the path of least resistance.”
“Chose is a harsh word.” I paused, hoping she would ask about the pageant the other night.
“So, how was the pageant the other night?” Perhaps my tide was turning.
“Interesting, to say the least. But my mother is a former Miss Georgia United States of America, so I’ve had to endure them quite often in the past.”
“Yes, I knew she was.”
“You did?” I asked, feeling as if a door had been opened.
“Yes, that is pretty common knowledge here. Well, I’m sure you’d better get back to work. Was there anything else?”
“No, I was just calling to say hello,” I lied.“I’ll see you soon.”As soon as I laid the receiver down, the phone rang, almost projecting me out of my seat. I looked at the clock in front of me. Three o’clock. I picked up the phone and this time actually said,“Hello.”
“Savannah, hey, it’s Marla again. Mr. Hicks just called down and would like to see you in his office.”
Oh yeah, just the breather I needed. Carbon-monoxide poisoning.“ OK, I’ll be right there.” I hung up the receiver and headed for the back staircase by the elevator. I needed stairs for this. I needed blood-circulating movement, brain-cell-birthing activity to deal with whatever was about to ensue.
After catching my breath, I passed the empty secretary desk and knocked on the half-open door.
“Come in,” came the same gruff voice.
I opened the door, trying not to swing too hard. “Hello, Mr. Hicks,” I said, reaching out my hand.
“Well, hello, Savannah,” he said, shaking my hand in a professional manner.“Savannah, sit down. Uh, please, have a seat,” he said, motioning awkwardly to the seat behind me.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, taking a seat and trying to act in total control.
He took his own seat and began slowly.“Savannah, how’s your first day?”
“Oh, it’s been fine, sir. Everyone has been helpful and friendly. I’m really excited to be here,” I said, thankful he’d asked a question I could answer.
His hands began shuffling papers around his desk.
“And how’s your first story coming?”
“Wonderfully. My article will be on your desk by two tomorrow.” Maybe this would be easy after all.
“So what’s your piece about?” he asked as he created stacks of what I assumed were other writers’ stories.
I hoped my face didn’t reflect panic. “Well, I’m still working out the details. I feel that to discuss it now, knowing that things could change, might just confuse things.” I examined my need for a manicure.
Mr. Hicks aligned a stack of papers with a brisk tap against the desktop and cleared his throat.“Savannah.”
I looked up at him once more.“Yes, sir?”
“I took a great chance in putting you in this position.” He looked me square in the eye and delivered this last statement with perfect clarity.“Now, I need you to deliver.”
“I know you did, Mr. Hicks, and I promise you that I will.” I stood, breathed deeply, and headed for the door. Feeling his eyes still staring at the back of my head, I turned to add,“And I appreciate the opportunity you have given me.”
I got back downstairs and had no more than sat down when Curly Locks spoke.“Well, well, she has returned from the third floor alive.”
“Did you doubt that I would?”
“I doubted a lot of things, Ms. Phillips. I doubted a lot of things.”
“Then I’m glad I’m here to put your troubled mind at ease. I’ve got to get to work, if you’ll excuse me.”And I returned to my inanimate, passionless cubicle. Thankfully, he retreated as well.
Three thirty. I decided I should at least start working on something, anything that could be described as a story. I ignored the IBM and fished my Mac out of my backpack. Mr. Hicks would want a hard copy anyway, so it didn’t matter what computer it came from. For the next hour and a half I stared at a blank screen. I tried to write something, but there was nothing to write. About five o’clock, Curly Locks made his way to my desk.
“Are you going to just stare at it or actually write something on it?” he asked, leaning against the partition.
“I’m actually going to cut it off and pray that between tonight and tomorrow a miracle occurs,” I said, closing it up to pack and take home. I stood up, grabbed my satchel and purse, and waited to walk out the door with Joshua.
“You really can do it, Ms. Phillips. I’m sure that if you can talk like you do you can surely write well enough for somebody to want to read it. You just got to pull it out from your gut.”
“You mean more like pull it out of my . . .”
“Savannah! don’t you even,” he interrupted.
“But, I just got to find something worth pulling out.”
“It’s in there. You’ve just got to find it.”
“Is your name Victoria?” I asked, stopping to stare at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Thanks for everything today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to round the corner.“Joshua?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you call me Ms. Phillips? It is totally annoying.”
“I just think it sounds like you. And as long as it’s not Victoria’s daughter, I think you should be happy.”
I threw my hand up at him in a passing motion and headed to my car. I knew Vicky was holding dinner for me, but all I wanted to do was go home, close myself up in my room, and sit on the floor counting my new shoes.
I pulled up to the side of the house and turned off the car. Through my rearview mirror I saw her—Miss Amber Ruby Sapphire headed out of Clary’s, flanked by two rather attractive gentlemen, headed toward my house. They were walking down the sidewalk that would cause them to pass right by my car. Doing the only thing I could think of to avoid detection, I hid. I tried my best to cram my five-foot-six frame all the way under my steering column. The last thing in the world I felt like facing was Miss Tape and Spray. I just didn’t think I would survive that, not tonight.
Just when I was about to get my head fully under the dash, there was a knocking on the passenger-side door. Knowing who was there, I didn’t rush to get up, but I still couldn’t avoid banging my head on my steering column. My disheveled head turned to face the opposite window and there she stood, grinning from ear to ear in a key-lime-pie linen pantsuit that would have made Paige hungry.
As soon as her eyes met mine, she waved as if she were ten blocks away trying to get my attention. I just rested my head on my steering column, thinking surely she couldn’t be for real.
She opened the passenger door and positioned herself firmly in the seat next to me, having lost her suitors somewhere along the way. I didn’t have the strength to raise my head, so I just kept it there, firmly planted on the steering wheel. I knew I looked frightful. I didn’t care.
“Savannah, you look ghastly. Did you have a bad first day at work?”
I nodded.
“Did you finish your story?”
I shook my head.
“Are you going to be finished in time to do lunch tomorrow?” she asked with a pathetic mousy-sounding voice. I didn’t hesitate.
I shook my head again.
“Well, don’t you worry . We’ll just shoot for Wednesday.”
I nodded only to avoid actual conversation.
“You just get your story done and then we’ll catch up on everything we need to. I’ve had such a busy day. I had to handle some things down at the tourism office. Your mother wasn’t happy with some of the guides’ descriptions of our fair city, so we had to do some rearranging today. Your mother, she runs a tight ship,” she said as serious as she could be.“And tonight I have to go help this little girl down on Tybee Island with her talent for the Miss Georgia United States of America Pageant. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m helping another contestant.”
I shook my head, but she didn’t care.
“She’s just pitiful; someone has got to help her. She used to sing. Poor child was tone-deaf. One time she even tried to do sign language with her song. People said she would have scored higher if she would have just signed and nixed the singing altogether. So, I told her she was going to have to change her talent. I tried her on the trumpet, but the sad soul about blew her brains out. I didn’t think I would ever find anything she’d actually be good at, but finally I found something.”
I allowed my right eyebrow to feign interest.
“I taught her how to play the cymbals. I just put one big cymbal in one hand and one big cymbal in the other. I gave her a tape of the “Star-Spangled Banner,” and on about every fifth beat she clangs those cymbals with more enthusiasm than me getting a new dress. I still haven’t told her it really isn’t a talent, but poor child couldn’t do anything else. I know she won’t win, but I had to help her find something. But I’ve seen worse talent win.”
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