Silver Currents of Change

Chapter 16

The morning she walked up to the shiny building with the blue, polished mirror-looking finish, Zarah knew Wilson Publishing was the place. It was where she wanted to work. To say the building was impressive would be an understatement, and, knowing what was going on inside the massive and imposing structure, the awesomeness of it all simply took her breath away. This was where it happened. This was where millions of decisions were made about the production of magazines her family had read and cherished for years. The writing, the creativity, and all the business behind it was housed in this glistening, modern-looking ten-story structure in the heart of downtown Jackson, at One Wilson Center, in the H. E. Wilson Office Park. 

It was the last week of October, and even though summer and fall were still engaged in their annual Mississippi wrestling match, she was thanking God it wasn't hot or humid. Her ton of hair was cooperating nicely with the style she and Yvette managed to whip it into, and her skin wasn't feeling sweaty underneath her freshly dry-cleaned one and only suit. She was already having a good day. Still looking up, she swallowed hard and took a deep breath before opening and walking through the colossal double front doors.

Once inside, walking on beautiful dark hardwood flooring that felt elegant and expensive, she picked up the ID badge that was waiting for her at the reception desk. After signing the guest book, she was escorted into the elevator by a security guard who took her to the ninth floor, to the publisher's executive offices.

In the world of Wilson Publishing Inc., it seemed like everything looked rich, smelled rich, or just simply gleamed. Off the elevator, looking around and staring at what had to be the pinnacle of office chic, the Publisher's suite—with three-hundred-sixty-degree spectacular views of the downtown skyline, seemed designed for comfort and success. Yep. She decided then and there she was right when she was in the sixth grade. She definitely wanted a career in magazine publishing, and she definitely wanted to own her own publication one day. But for now, she was glad to be interviewing with the man, the magazine publishing legend who made all this happen. She knew she should have been nervous, but because she already knew and liked Professor Wilson, she wasn't. She was just trying to get the butterflies she felt in her stomach to settle down. They were very, very excited. 

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Harvey Wilson suspected Laura already knew he thought there was something extra special about their interviewee. His guitar, "Little Lucille," which he loved telling the staff had once been played by Mr. B. B. King, had hung on the wall in his office for the last several weeks, untouched. But that day he was sitting at his desk with his chair turned toward windows that were usually behind him. Strumming chords, he was wearing the hat that had hung on the handle of the guitar for weeks too, just as lonely and just as bereft of his touch. Everyone knew it was his favorite hat, a Stacy Adams Rocker Pork Pie. Black wool felt. He had it tipped to the front and knew that alone conveyed to Laura he was feeling a lot better, suddenly, for some reason. Laura escorted his interviewee through the doorway of the spacious suite of connected rooms that were his office, and then his assistant publisher and Zarah stood without speaking for a brief moment, just listening. The very moment when he started enjoying having an audience, his student spoke.

"I know that tune," she said. "It's so beautiful. So homegrown ... so emotional."

He turned around. Still playing, he nodded in agreement, smiling from underneath his hat while trying hard not to show how fascinated he was by how she looked. She usually wore a ponytail to class, and today, with her hair down, he thought she looked stunning and sophisticated. She was wearing the same gray suit she wore the day they met, officially,with the same unforgettable gray blouse accenting her eyes. She was much, much too young for him, but she still had looks that never failed to knock him out.