Twelve white men. Four Baptists, two Methodists; two Pentecostals; one Presbyterian; one Church of Christ. And two who claimed no church membership and were likely headed straight to hell.
(The Reckoning, John Grisham, page 114)
He was low on cash, so he passed on first class and bought a regular ticket to Memphis. He was sitting on a bar stool drinking a beer in Union Station when she walked by. Short black hair, dark eyes, perfect features. Maybe twenty years old, a real stunner, and he wasn’t the only man in the bar to take notice. Tall, thin, nicely proportioned. When she was out of sight he returned to his beer, and his troubles, and found it hard to believe that he had passed on a first-class ticket because he was worried about money.
He drained his glass, walked toward departures, and there she was again. He manuevered close and hoped she was going his way. She was, and he noticed a couple of other men measuring her up and down. He boarded behind her and managed to snag the seat next to her. He got himself situated, ignored her, opened a magazine, and stuck his nose in it. With there elbows almost touching, he managed to sneak another glance as the train jolted and began to move. There was some exotic ethnic stuff in play, and the result was stunning. Joel had never seen a face as beautiful. She read a paperback and acted as if she were alone on an empty train. Must be a defensive mechanism, he thought. She probably gets hounded every time she leaves home.
Outside D.C., as the temperature rose, he stood and removed his jacket. She glanced up. He smiled; she did not. He sat down and asked, “Where are you headed?”
A smile that weakened his knees. “Jackson.”
There were several Jacksons down south and fortunately they were all at least a thousand miles away. If he got lucky, he would be at her elbow for hours. “Mississippi?”
“I Know it well. That your home?”
“No. I’m from Biloxi, but I’ll stay a night or two in Jackson.”
Soft, sultry voice, a trace of Gulf Coast accent. To the rest of Mississipoi, the coast was another world. Heavily Catholic, influenced by the French, Spanish, Indians, and Africans, it had become a melting pot with lots of Italians, Yugoslavs, Lebanese, Chinese, and, as always, Irish.
“I like Jackson,” he said, which was only partially true, but it was his turn to say something.
“It’s okay,” she said. She had lowered her paperback, a clear sign to him that she wanted to chat. “Where do you hang out in Jackson?” she asked.
Whitfield, because my mother is locked away in the nuthouse. He would offer his first name but not his last. That was his defensive mechanism. “There’s a little speakeasy behind the Heidelberg that I’m quite fond of. I’m Joel.”
“I’m Mary Ann. Malouf.”
“Where does Malouf come from?”
“My father is Lebanese; my mother is Irish.”
“And the dominant genes win. You are quite beautiful.” He couldn’t believe he had just said that. What an idiot!
She smiled and again his heart skipped a beat.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’ll get off at Memphis.” Or, I’ll ride this train to Mars and back if you’ll stay right there. “I go to school at Ole Miss. Law school.” One reason to stay in law school was that young ladies liked to chat with young men who were about to become lawyers. During his first year at Ole Miss, he had quickly learned this clever trick and used it whenever appropriate.
“How long have you been at Ole Miss? she asked.
“This will be my second year.”
“I haven’t seen you around.”
“Around? Around where?”
“Around campus. I’ll be a sophomore at Old Miss this fall.”
The school had four thousand students and only 15 percent were female. How had he missed her? He smiled and said, “Small world, I guess. the law students tend to stay in one place.” He marveled at his good fortune. Not only did he have her to himself for the next ten hours, but they would be on the same campus in a couple of months. For a rare moment, he had reason to smile.
“What brought you to D.C.?”
“I was helping my sister get moved in, a summer job. We’re from a small town not far from Oxford. And you?”
“Visiting my fiance. He works for a Senate committee.”
And just like that, the party ended. He hoped he didn’t frown or grimace or look as though he might weep. He hoped he managed to keep the same pleasant look and seem somewhat understanding, which he doubted in the face of such a calamity.
“That’s nice,” he managed to say. “When is the big day?”
“We’re not sure. After I graduate. We’re in no hurry.”
With romance and a future together no longer a possibility, they talked about their plans for the rest of the summer, and college and law school and what they hoped to do after graduation. As gorgeous as she was, Joel eventually lost interest and fell asleep.
(The Reckoning, John Grisham, pages 352-354)
On Christmas Day, they once again loaded into Florry’s Lincoln and drove to Whitfield. A year earlier, they had made the trip, only to be denied access to Liza. Those days were over now because Pete was certainly out of the way and Joel was now his mother’s legal guardian. They sat with her in one corner of a large activity room, and gave her gifts and chocolates sent by Nineva and Marietta. Liza smiled a lot and talked more and seemed to enjoy the attention.
(The Reckoning, John Grisham, page 321)
PARLOR HAIR SALON
(Atlantic Avenue between Third Avenue and Fourth Avenue [Beauty Road], January 218)
[Atlantic Avenue Boerum Hill, Fifth Avenue Park Slope, and World Trade Center] https://www.facebook.com/nunuchocolateswestfieldwtc
|John H. Sununu|
|Chair of the New Hampshire Republican Party|
January 17, 2009 – January 22, 2011
|Preceded by||Fergus Cullen|
|Succeeded by||Jack Kimball|
John Henry Sununu (born July 2, 1939) is an American politician who served as the 75th Governor of New Hampshire (1983–89) and later White House Chief of Staff under President George H. W. Bush. He is the father of John E. Sununu, the former United States Senator from New Hampshire, and Christopher Sununu, the current governor of New Hampshire. Sununu was the chairman of the New Hampshire Republican Party from 2009 to 2011.
Sununu was born in Havana, Cuba, the son of Victoria (née Dada) and John Saleh Sununu, an international film distributor. His father’s family came to the United States from the Middle East at the turn of the twentieth century. His ancestry is Lebanese and Palestinian from the Greek Orthodox Church community in Jerusalem and Beirut. His father, John, was born in Boston. Sununu’s mother, Victoria Dada, was born in El Salvador. Her family was Greek and settled in Central America at the turn of the twentieth century. Sununu last visited Beirut as a child in the late 1940s.
He earned a bachelor of science degree in 1961, a master of science degree in 1963, and a Ph.D. in 1966 from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, all in mechanical engineering. He is a member of Phi Sigma Kappa fraternity.
From 1966 to 1982, he taught at Tufts University, where he served as an associate professor of mechanical engineering. He was the associate dean of the University’s College of Engineering from 1968 to 1973. As of 1988, Sununu retained his title and family tuition benefits from Tufts during an “extremely rare” unpaid six-year leave of absence that coincided with his governorship. He served on the Advisory Board of the Technology and Policy Program at MIT from 1984 until 1989.
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