“Yes,” Jennifer whispered.
“If you can get over a rough beginning, I have a feeling you’ll be a very good one.”
Jennifer gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m going to try.”
She said the words over again in her mind. I’m going to try! It did not matter that she shared a small and dingy office with a seedy private detective and a man who repossessed cars. It was a law office. She was a member of the legal profession, and they were going to allow her to practice law. She was filled with a feeling of exultation. She looked across at Adam and knew she would be forever grateful to this man.
The waiter had begun to clear the dishes from the table. Jennifer tried to speak, but it came out a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Mr. Warner—”
He said gravely, “After all we’ve been through together, I think it should be Adam.”
“Adam—”
“Yes?”
“I hope it won’t ruin our relationship, but—” Jennifer moaned, “I’m starved!”
5
The next few weeks raced by. Jennifer found herself busy from early morning until late at night, serving summonses—court orders to appear to answer a legal action—and subpoenas—court orders to appear as a witness. She knew that her chances of getting into a large law firm were nonexistent, for after the fiasco she had been involved in, no one would dream of hiring her. She would just have to find some way to make a reputation for herself, to begin all over.
In the meantime, there was the pile of summonses and subpoenas on her desk from Peabody & Peabody. While it was not exactly practicing law, it was twelve-fifty and expenses.
Occasionally, when Jennifer worked late, Ken Bailey would take her out to dinner. On the surface he was a cynical man, but Jennifer felt that it was a facade. She sensed that he was lonely. He had been graduated from Brown University and was bright and well-read. She could not imagine why he was satisfied to spend his life working out of a dreary office, trying to locate stray husbands and wives. It was as though he had resigned himself to being a failure and was afraid to try for success.
Once, when Jennifer brought up the subject of his marriage, he growled at her, “It’s none of your business,” and Jennifer had never mentioned it again.
Otto Wenzel was completely different. The short, potbellied little man was happily married. He regarded Jennifer as a daughter and he constantly brought her soups and cakes that his wife made. Unfortunately, his wife was a terrible cook, but Jennifer forced herself to eat whatever Otto Wenzel brought in, because she did not want to hurt his feelings. One Friday evening Jennifer was invited to the Wenzel home for dinner. Mrs. Wenzel had prepared stuffed cabbage, her specialty. The cabbage was soggy, the meat inside was hard, and the rice halfcooked. The whole dish swam in a lake of chicken fat. Jennifer attacked it bravely, taking small bites and pushing the food around on her plate to make it seem as though she were eating.
“How do you like it?” Mrs. Wenzel beamed.
“It—it’s one of my favorites.”
From that time on, Jennifer had dinner at the Wenzel’s every Friday night, and Mrs. Wenzel always prepared Jennifer’s favorite dish.
Early one morning, Jennifer received a telephone call from the personal secretary of Mr. Peabody, Jr.
“Mr. Peabody would like to see you this morning at eleven o’clock. Be prompt, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the past, Jennifer had only dealt with secretaries and law clerks in the Peabody office. It was a large, prestigious firm, one that young lawyers dreamed of being invited to join. On the way to keep her appointment, Jennifer began to fantasize. If Mr. Peabody himself wanted to see her, it had to be about something important. He probably had seen the light and was going to offer her a job as a lawyer with his firm, to give her a chance to show what she could do. She was going to surprise all of them. Some day it might even be Peabody, Peabody & Parker.