Tales From the Black Chamber (34 page)

BOOK: Tales From the Black Chamber
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“Anne, this is so totally cool, I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll do it.”

“This is a dream job, but I don't have an MLS or anything.”

“Well, if you think you need one, or an advanced degree in anything else, let me know. The Foundation will pay for it. We're all about employee development.”

“That's so cool!”

“You'll do it?”

“Of course I'll do it!”

“I'm so glad. Let's poke around here a bit, and then I'm buying lunch. There's an amazing French-Vietnamese place not far from here.”

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Anne.”

“Thanks for taking me up on it,” said Anne. Then with just a hint of rue, she said, “Who knows, maybe you'll take my job when I'm not around anymore.”

19

One Monday morning, John, Mike, and Joe were sitting in their usual pew at St. Matthew's Cathedral waiting for the seven o'clock Mass to begin. They were surprised to see Anne slip in next to them. Anne was herself surprised to be there. She sat (and periodically stood) through the Mass, and then walked out onto Rhode Island Avenue with her colleagues in the diffuse morning light, as the previous evening's fog burned off.

“Hey, Anne, good morning,” said Mike. “What are you doing here? Want to cross the Tiber?”

Anne laughed. “No, not hardly. I don't know. I just thought, you know, that since I can't argue that demons don't exist, there's a pretty damn good chance that God exists too, and, if that's the case, I ought to say thanks. I've had a very good life, and I've never been more conscious of how little I did to earn it—or how lucky I was in Mongolia. If God has something to do with that, He deserves a thank-you.”

They walked down Connecticut Avenue towards Farragut Square.

“We're here every morning, so you're always welcome to join us,” said Joe.

“Breakfast is always on the Papists,” Mike announced as they turned into a chain bakery for coffee and a small pastry.

“Are you trying to convert me?” Anne grinned. “If so, I'll put you in the queue. At the moment, Mongolian shamanism has the pole position.” They all laughed.

The three men sarcastically kicked around the stories in the morning's
Post
and
Times
. Anne chimed in from time to time, but mostly just enjoyed watching their silly masculine camaraderie.

Anne got a refill of her coffee and returned to the table as the guys were getting up.

“Ready, Anne?” John asked. She nodded. He smiled and said, “Let's go to work.”

Acknowledgements

Tales from the Black Chamber
was written some years back to amuse myself while waiting to start a Ph.D. program. No one is more surprised than I that it has emerged, vampire-like, from the grave (ok, drawer), where it sat, mostly forgotten, and will beat my dissertation into print.

Given the passing of time, I may well have forgotten some of the people who read and commented on the story. If so, sorry, folks. I certainly apologize to those named below, for not having taken it as seriously as they did and improved it as much as their comments would have allowed me to. In this regard, I am particularly indebted (alphabetically) to Claire Berlinski, Tucker Cawley, Aaron Elkins, Eric Haanstad, Nick Pelling, and Kate Schulz.

Jonah Goldberg indirectly pointed me to the folks at Liberty Island, for which I must thank him.

The merry band at Liberty Island has been an undiluted pleasure to work with. Adam Bellow, David Bernstein, Abbey Brill, Jay Merwin, David Swindle, and Elena Vega have all contributed materially to this book's seeing the light of day—in better shape than it's ever been. I am very grateful. (And you should be too.)

I thank you, dear reader, for your time and treasure. Let's hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Finally, as this was originally an amusement and
passe-temps
, some characters were loosely based on real friends of mine whom I wished to entertain, parts of whose personalities remain in forms distorted through the lens of my whimsy. I both apologize to and thank them for their forbearance in allowing me to pay homage to them even in such silly form. Thanks, Claire, Joe, John, and Rob.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by Bill Walsh

ISBN: 978-1-5040-3954-3

Liberty Island Media Group

New York, NY

www.LibertyIslandMag.com

Distributed by Open Road Distribution

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com

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