The State Department recruiters were most of the way through their day interviewing professional secretarial candidates at SATI, and even Darden was discouraged. While many of the interviewees were enthusiastic and had risen themselves far above the grinding poverty of the region, none could be even charitably considered as being material for the Department. These were some of the top graduates of the Institute; even so, their academic records were very uneven. While Terry had entered the session with a hopeful mind (as opposed to Byerly, who seemed ready to reject each candidate before they entered the room), he was coming to the realization that the local crop had very little to pick from.
Meanwhile, Samantha felt fully justified in her previous judgment that the trip would be a waste of time. While they hadn't encountered any openly racist rednecks, these inbred, ignorant, and lazy Alabamians were clearly not in the league with those needed by the State Department. She just hoped they wouldn't run into a KKK rally on the way back to the airport when word of the "Damn Yankees" got around. She was a bit surprised that Terry wasn't more uncomfortable, as a Black man, in this backward environment.
Then the Guidance Counselor, Dr. Sullivan, ushered in the last applicant of the day, Ms. Beatrice Thomson. Terry caught his breath and couldn't help staring for a moment. The ravishing twenty-year-old redhead was possible the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Terry had always had an eye for an attractive woman. The expression he learned and savored in his youth was that he "noticed a well-turn ankle." Well, the ankle was not the only part well-turned on Trixie.
Samantha glanced at her superior with a bit more than her usual disrespect and took over the interview by instructing Trixie to be seated. Terry regained control and studied her Institute transcript while letting Byerly ask her questions. Quickly he noted that she had earned the top grade in every course and had unhesitatingly glowing letters of recommendation from her teachers.
As Darden looked up to watch her respond to Samantha's questions, he was highly impressed by her poised and friendly demeanor despite his partner's clearly tough and condescending attitude. Legal secretaries, he knew, often had to deal with arrogant and condescending attorneys.
Even Byerly was surprised by Trixie’s ability to stand up under fire and her quick and succinct answers. From reading her vitae, Byerly had relegated Trixie to "Trailer Park Trash" even before she had entered the room. With the girl's voluptuous figure and her dress doing too much to flaunt it, Samantha did not change that judgment. However, she did admit to herself that this girl was a significant step above the others.
Dr. Sullivan sat at her desk, nervously waiting. Mr. Darden had promised an answer concerning Trixie before they drove to Montgomery for their flight back to DC. Beatrice had a favorable impression of the older Black man who approached the Institute and Dr. Sullivan with courtesy and respect. However, the woman, about Beatrice’s age was extremely condescending. She seemed a typical Midwesterner who looked on everyone in the deep South as ignorant, backward rednecks. Sullivan was sure that, back home, Ms. Byerly used the term “The South” as an expression of deep contempt!
When the phone rang, the Counselor tried not to answer too fast or too anxiously. There was a brief professional conversation, and then it was over. Beatrice took a deep breath to help settle her emotions and stood up. She walked out of her office, locked the door, and went down the stairs to the front entrance. Stepping outside into the fresh cool February evening, she headed across the green quadrangle to the Institute Library. She knew Trixie would be there working the late shift. Dr. Sullivan entered the main, double-glass doors with the overhead quote from the poet Maya Angelou “I always felt if I could get to a Library, I’d be OK.” She turned left and entered the main offices. Trixie had proven such a fine worker that the head Librarian had given her use of her office in the evenings to work on her studies. As Dr. Sullivan entered the office, Trixie looked up from the desk and saw Beatrice's face. As she did, she exploded with joy.
“Yes, my dear, they’ve made you a job offer!” announced Dr. Sullivan, barely suppressing a shout.
The women had to restrain their excitement in consideration of the Library rules. However, one can easily imagine the mutual congratulations and gratitude and breathless exchange of relief at Trixie having a job. At last, Dr. Sullivan broached the idea she'd formed while walking over from the Administration Building. "Trixie, you've too much to think about and do before you can go to DC. Why don't I take you out for dinner and you sleep over at my place tonight? We can begin making your plans."
Trixie demurred at first, refusing to take advantage of her mentor's hospitality. However, Beatrice's unyielding persistence wore her down. The stress of the day's interview and the nail-biting waiting for the word had sapped even Trixie's seemingly inexhaustible energy. At last, it was agreed.