Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love by Robert Whitlow Page A

her together.”
    “We can talk, but as far as I’m concerned you can plan on moving in downstairs and stay as long as you like.”
    For lunch I convinced Mrs. Fairmont to share a salad with me. Getting her to eat was a challenge, so I put as much protein in it as I could.
    “Could I borrow your car for a couple of hours?” I asked when we finished. “There’s someone I want to visit on the other side of town.”
    “Of course, it needs to be driven.”
    I left Mrs. Fairmont watching a gourmet cooking show. When I returned, the TV might be tuned to a program hosted by a professional bass-fishing guide. I’d seen the same phenomenon with other older people—their interests widened rather than narrowed, even though the information gleaned would never be put to practical use and might be forgotten within fifteen minutes.
    Mrs. Fairmont’s car, a large sedan, had less than fifteen thousand miles on the odometer. She kept it in a detached garage. I’d memorized the address where I wanted to go. As I drew closer, my heart beat a little bit faster.
    I turned into the parking lot of a one-story brick building with none of the flair of Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. The structure could as easily have been in Bangor or Lubbock as Savannah. At one end of the building a simple white sign with black letters announced SMITH LAW OFFICES . Julie’s name wouldn’t join hers until she passed the bar exam. The building also contained an insurance agency, a two-person CPA firm, and a company that built swimming pools.
    There were several cars in the lot. I parked in front of Maggie’s office, turned off the engine, and stared at the entrance. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself working at the office. I knew what it felt like to walk into the spacious reception area at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. How would it feel to be part of a much smaller, less established, more risky environment? If the firm failed, or the other two women decided after six months I wasn’t needed, where would I go? I would have burned my bridges with Zach’s firm. As I pondered my decision, Mr. Callahan’s wisdom seemed more compelling.
    I decided to take a closer look at the office. If my fear increased, I would take it as a sign that working with Maggie and Julie probably wasn’t a good idea. I got out of the car and walked to the front door. Putting my hand against the glass to cut down glare, I could see what looked like a reception area. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a figure came into the reception room, turned toward the door, and saw me.
    It was Maggie Smith.
    Before I could run, Maggie smiled and waved. I weakly waved back. The petite lawyer with short brown hair opened the door.
    “Come in,” Maggie said in the Southern twang she’d brought from Alabama to Savannah. “Julie and I were talking about you earlier today.”
    I stepped into an area with two chairs, a love seat, and a coffee table with several magazines strewn across it. Industrial-grade beige carpet covered the floor.
    “I was in Savannah for the weekend and decided to see the outside of the office.”
    “Now you can see the inside, including your office if you decide to join us.”
    Maggie didn’t seem uptight at all. In her early thirties, she had a girlish look that made her appear younger. She was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting sweater.
    “You must be busy if you’re working on Saturday,” I said.
    “Not really.”
    She led me down a short hallway. A door toward the end of the hallway opened, and Julie Feldman emerged. About the same height as Maggie, she had a fuller figure and dark hair.
    “Tami!” she cried out.
    She ran down the hall and almost knocked me over with a hug. She released me and patted me on the cheek.
    “I told Maggie over lunch you were probably sitting in a cave somewhere fasting and praying about what God wanted you to do with the rest of your life. And here you are!”
    “Savannah is a better place to pray than a cold