Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

"What's going on here?" Mr. Carpenter asked.

I sniffled. "It's been a rough morning," I said.

"That's obvious. Come to my office."

"Now?"

"Yes."

As I walked down the hall I glanced back and saw the library door close again. My tears receded, but my eyes were still red as we passed the secretary's desk. She didn't pay any attention to me.

"Sit down," Mr. Carpenter said.

I sat in a blue leather chair.

"Answer me directly," the lawyer continued. "Why were you crying in the office hallway at eight thirty in the morning?"

"It's a combination of things."

"Tell me every one. As managing partner, I'm responsible for this office and the people who work here. It's better to address problems as soon as they surface instead of letting them fester."

"I don't want to get Julie in trouble."

"I appreciate your sentiment, but I don't know what took place. You might be the one in trouble."

I hadn't considered that possibility. Confessing sin, even if I wasn't the primary guilty party, happened all the time in my family and wasn't a new concept to me.

"I told her to shut up," I said. "And I'm sorry. I'll apologize as soon as I can."

Mr. Carpenter tilted his head to the side. "Much worse things than that have been said in our partnership meetings. Why did you tell her to shut up?"

I realized Mr. Carpenter was going to ferret out every piece of information hidden in my brain, so, in a methodical manner, I told him about Julie's challenge. He listened without interruption.

"Anything else at the office upset you this morning?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I'm struggling with the best way to represent Mr. Moses Jones, my client in the misdemeanor criminal case. Zach Mays and I don't agree on the best way to proceed."

"What did you say was the client's name?"

"Moses Jones."

"Tell me about the client."

"He's an African-American man in his early seventies. He had a prior criminal conviction many years ago, something to do with moonshine whiskey."

"Been in Savannah a long time?"

"I think his whole life."

Mr. Carpenter touched his fingers together in front of his chin. The phone on his desk buzzed. He picked it up.

"Tell Bob Groves that I'll be there in a couple of minutes. I'm almost finished with Ms. Taylor."

I waited, not sure whether the next few minutes would be my last on the job. If I left, it would be with a clear conscience. Mr. Carpenter hung up the phone.

"I've received good reports from several sources about the way you and Ms. Feldman have been working together," the lawyer said. "The incident this morning is an opportunity for growth. Julie is probably scared that you're telling me a boatload of bad things about her. That may be punishment enough for baiting you. When you go back, I expect you to confront her actions in a gracious yet professional manner."

"Yes sir."

"I'll meet with her later today." Mr. Carpenter paused. "And keep me posted via weekly memos on the Jones case."

"Yes sir."

I left Mr. Carpenter's office. I still had a job. I looked at my watch. It was past time for the phone call to Maggie Smith at the district attorney's office. I turned to go upstairs, then remembered my obligation to Julie. I walked quickly to the library and opened the door. Julie looked up from a casebook.

"I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. "What's he going to do?"

"Mr. Carpenter thought you'd be worried."

"Worried? I've been frantic! Trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to my parents if I lost this job."

"He wants to talk to you later."

"Am I going to get in trouble? What's he going to do to me?"

"Probably tell you to act more professional," I said. "That's what he said to me. He knows we've been working well together. He realizes this was a temporary blowup."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Anything else?"

I looked directly in her eyes. "I'm sorry I told you to shut up. We can joke around but shouldn't be cruel."

Julie looked down at the table. "Sure, like I said, I'm sorry too."

I WENT UPSTAIRS TO ZACH'S OFFICE, determined to act professional. The stack of papers on his desk was higher than before.

"Sorry I'm late. Mr. Carpenter called me into his office," I said.

"You didn't miss anything. I just got off the phone with the DAs office. Smith won't want to commit to any modification of her plea offer without the judge getting involved. It's an extreme position for a misdemeanor case, but she wouldn't budge. We won't know anything else until we go to court this afternoon."

"Okay."

"Why were you talking to Mr. Carpenter?"

"He had some questions for me."

Zach stared at me for a few seconds. I remained silent.

"Fine," he said. "We'll leave for the courthouse thirty minutes before the calendar call. The order of cases isn't released in advance. We could be first; we could be last."

I nodded and left.

Julie wasn't in the library when I returned. On my side of the desk was a memo from Bob Kettleson. He wanted me to research a complicated municipal corporation issue before the end of the day. I read the memo again, thankful that I'd completed the course in law school and received an A.

Shortly before noon, the library door opened. I looked up, expecting to see Julie. It was Vince.

"Lunch plans?" he asked.

I smiled. "Thanks, but I don't have time for a long meal. Bob Kettleson needs an answer to a question, and I have a hearing in my criminal case this afternoon."

"My appointed case is on the calendar too," he said. "The client is going to pay a speeding fine and replace his muffler in return for dismissal of the racing charge."

"I wish my case was so simple," I sighed.

"What's the problem?"

I eyed Vince for a moment. He was smart and less likely than Zach to try to impose his will on me in a condescending way. His input might be helpful.

"I'll tell you if we can grab a quick sandwich."

"I know a place," he replied.

While notifying the receptionist that we were leaving for lunch, I glanced up the staircase and saw Zach looking down at us. He quickly walked away.

It was hot outside, and Vince started his car with his remote as soon as we left the building.

"It won't do much good," he said, opening the car door for me. "But it's a nice thought."

He drove a few blocks to a deli near the river. There was a parking place directly in front on the curb.

"Do you ever pray for parking spots?" he asked.

"No, I don't own a car."

"That will change once you graduate and get a job," Vince said.

"I wonder where I'll be."

"Why not here?"

There was no tactful way to mention what Julie and I knewVince would be the summer clerk offered an associate attorney job.

"We'll see," I said.

The deli featured a dizzying selection of meats, cheeses, and breads. Vince waited while I looked at the menu.

"Could I order for you?" he asked.

"Sure. You did fine with lunch yesterday."

"Is there anything you don't like?"

"Chicken livers. My mother has cooked them every way possible, but I always have trouble convincing my mouth to send one down my throat."

Vince placed the order, and I watched a man behind the counter slice two types of meat, three kinds of cheese, and add an assortment of unknown condiments to a piece of dark bread. We took our food and drinks to a booth for two next to a window. I could see the river glinting between two buildings. Vince prayed. I took a bite of the sandwich.

"This isn't dull at all," I said after I'd chewed and swallowed a bite. "I'm not used to a sandwich like this having much flavor."

"Okay. Do you want to tell me about your case?"

I had the sandwich halfway up to my mouth. I stopped. "Not until I eat."