Sharyn Mccrumb_Elizabeth MacPherson_07 Read Online Free PDF Page A

one constant in my life. I don’t like this new world one bit. Can we put it back the way it was? Did you try?
    I tried calling home about six times, but Mother is being brittle and maddeningly perky. “These things happen.” “Of course we’ll always be friends.” You know the sort of rot people speak when they don’t want to tell you what’s really going on. I didn’t want to push it. And I called Daddy at his office and got much the same line, except in a more dignified and forbidding tone.
    I know you think I’m going to be on the next plane to Richmond, but I can’t. I have job interviews coming up here and I simply can’t get away. Anyhow, divorces take months and months, so I suppose there’s no real rush. Perhaps we ought to let them simmer down a bit before we do any meddling. But meanwhile you must try to find out what’s going on! We can’t deal with this thing until we know the facts. Tell Mother that as her attorney you have to be told
everything.
And keep me posted. I mean
often.
    Bill, I’m relying on you. You’re the family’s only hope. Don’t let this happen!
    Love
,
Elizabeth

“
A few more days for to tote the weary load”
    â€”S TEPHEN FOSTER,
“My Old Kentucky Home”
CHAPTER 2

    â€œI’ M NOT GOING to be here this afternoon,” said A. P. Hill. “Can you manage by yourself?”
    â€œBy myself?” Bill MacPherson looked up from his paperwork. “You mean alone? Abandoned? What about Edith?”
    â€œTry to bear up, Bill. It’s Edith’s day off, remember? Tuesday afternoons and all day Friday.”
    The law firm of MacPherson and Hill was now ten days old, still solvent, and boasted a caseload of half a dozen clients. They had also engaged a part-time secretary-receptionist: Edith Creech, a recent graduate of the local business college. Edith’s salary was as modest as her grade point average. She was maddeningly slow at office work and her spelling showed a creativity that bordered on genius, but she was a notary public, a useful asset to a law firm, and she was thoroughly in awe of her attorney employers, which went a long way toward offsetting her shortcomings.
    â€œAnd where are you going this afternoon?” Bill wanted to know.
    A. P. Hill reddened. “I’ve got an appointment,” she said, in a tone calculated to discourage further inquiry. “But you should be all right. Have you heard from Trowbridge yet?”
    â€œYep. He called this morning with his first question. It’s a doozy. Are you ready for this? He wants to know: if a neighbor’s tomcat gets the Trowbridge tabby in the family way, can the tomcat’s owner be sued for child—er, kitten—support?”
    His partner rolled her eyes. “Oh, just say no!” she advised.
    â€œThat’s easy for
you
to say, Powell,” Bill grumbled. “You’re a Republican. But Old Trowbridge wants chapter and verse. I did inform him that the kittens would have to have blood tests to prove paternity.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Did you remember to check the mail before you came in?”
    â€œYes. That’s the other thing I was going to tell you about. You know that newspaper ad we ran? Did we say that we were catering in legal services to the deranged or anything?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThey seem to be seeking us out. First the Trowbridges and now this.” He held up a flowered envelope. “This letter came today, addressed to us—MacPherson and Hill, Attorneysat Law.
Dear Sirs: If it is entirely convenient with you, I shall be calling on Friday afternoon at one o’clock to discuss a small legal matter in which I should like to avail myself of your services. Sincerely, Flora Dabney.
And—get this, Powell—Miss Dabney has enclosed a picture of herself in costume.”
    â€œLet me see that!”