An Urgent Legal Matter

by Douglas Young

part 1

Mimosa Mitchell was an 85-year-old “pillar of the community” and matriarch of one of the most prominent families in Petunia Springs. Indeed, for generations the Mitchells had been a significant presence among the town’s politicians, doctors, bankers, and accountants. Mimosa’s late husband had long enjoyed the largest medical practice in all of Deas County. When he had died five years ago, folks remarked how his funeral was likely the best attended in Petunia Springs history.

Mrs. Mitchell was a major local figure in her own right, having taught English at Roswell Ripley High School for fifty years before her husband finally prevailed upon her to retire. She had been — by far — the most senior, well-known, and feared teacher at the school, legendary for her uncompromising commitment to instill in her students good writing skills and a love of literature.

She was easily the most demanding instructor in the English Department — and, probably, the entire school — primarily for her zeal to correct every grammatical, punctuation and spelling error. Her classes were studiously avoided by slackers. However, having taught so many of the student body’s parents — and several grandparents — who revered her absolute devotion to helping all her pupils, a large share of her students’ mothers and fathers had forced their offspring to enroll in her classes.

Retirement failed to slow down Mimosa very much. Instead, she enjoyed being able to put more time into the projects she loved: being a Sunday School teacher, president of her neighborhood homeowners association as well as the local chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC), and grandmother and great-grandmother.

Mrs. Mitchell was a large lady with a strong voice and stronger opinions; everyone knew when she was present. Her many friends and admirers extolled her as the personification of an outstanding Christian lady who always put the “p” in “proper.” Her detractors said she put the “d” in “domineering” and were grateful she was not a man.

Heavily immersed in the affairs of all her family members, Mimosa devotedly helped her daughter-in-law fight cancer and then mothered her grieving son Delano all the more after his wife’s death. Always happiest when in charge, she had been thoroughly fulfilled looking after her deeply bereaved son in the months following his wife’s passing, even insisting on moving in with him for a while.

A year into widowerhood, Delano began to go out with a few ladies. As a handsome, affluent accountant from Petunia Springs’ most famous family, not one lady he asked out declined his invitation. While accepting the Bible’s admonition that “It is not good that the man should be alone,” his mother still sighed as her son began dating and became less emotionally dependent on her.

Zillah Prager had moved to Petunia Springs a couple of years before and was the popular Ripley High School art teacher. Her students adored her for being warm, ebullient, witty, and full of chutzpah. Each day, students looked forward to seeing what loud, elaborate scarf she would wear, and she was the school’s first art instructor to include several forms of modern art in her curriculum. Most controversially, she was also the first to display in her classroom nude paintings by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Paul Gauguin, and Pablo Picasso.

This last act brought her to Mimosa Mitchell’s attention, prompting her to call the new principal, Barnard Bee, to voice her opposition to “children being exposed to such indecency.” But Mimosa was no longer at the school: the principal stood by Miss Prager and, to Mrs. Mitchell’s deep disappointment, she was unable to find other teachers willing to support her publicly in the matter. When she considered trying to organize opposition through her church and the UDC, her son and other members of the family implored her not to, voicing concerns about the impact such a crusade could have on her health.

To allay his mother’s fear that “inappropriate conduct” could be encouraged by depictions of nudity in art classes, Delano made an unannounced visit to the new art teacher’s classroom one day after school in his role as an elected school board member. To his relief, of the many dozens of paintings, sculptures, photographs, and other works of art displayed, only a few were nude and they struck him as quite tastefully artistic without exuding any hint of pornography.

To Mr. Mitchell’s delight, the art teacher not only welcomed the school board member, but gave him an enthusiastic tour of her room. He quickly became awed by this tall, very attractive lady of 38 whose cheerfulness and humor stood in such colorful contrast to his much more restrained persona. Delano was so taken with the brunette beauty that he soon found it difficult to focus on her detailed explanations of various art works; he was busy studying how best to ask her out. At the end of the tour, to his joy, she stunned him by asking him out first, something no woman had ever done.

They not only went out but soon became a local item. Folks were endlessly amused that the conservative accountant son of Dr. Josiah and Mimosa Mitchell was courting “that Yankee art teacher,” all the more so since Miss Mimosa had tried to stop her display of nude art.

Just over a year into widowhood, Delano suddenly felt liberated by the prettiest, most affectionate, and least shy lady he had ever dated. Folks who knew him were charmed by how much happier the heretofore sad widower had become. His children were likewise elated that Daddy had not only returned to his former self but even appeared more content than they could ever recall.

The one person distinctly unelated by the blossoming romance was Delano’s mother. Though Mimosa not only accepted that her son would date again and even thought it best for him to remarry as soon as possible for his own health, she expected him to find “a fine Christian lady” for the role of the new Mrs. Mitchell, and Miss Prager was Jewish. Mimosa lamented to more than a few friends and relatives that it was “unfortunate enough” that Zillah was “not just a Yankee, but a New York Yankee.” Yet, as out of her comfort zone as that was, Mimosa could likely have still somehow stomached the match, especially if confident there would be no children introducing Yankee blood into the family.

But the prospect of her one son marrying a Jewish lady, and a childless one still within child-bearing years, constituted a family crisis in Mimosa’s mind. What if they married, had children, and reared them as Jews? Despite Zillah not showing any particular religious zeal, and the nearest synagogue being several counties away, Mimosa was beside herself at the specter of any “cosmopolitanism” infecting her devout Christian family.

Adding to her distress was that all her relatives supported Delano’s growing bond with Zillah. When her two daughters not only approved of their brother’s girlfriend but were thrilled at the news he would ask her to marry him, Mimosa determined the time for decisive action was at hand.

Though none of Delano’s siblings, children, or any other relatives would join her, Mimosa went ahead and had a frank meeting with her 55-year-old son, laying out all her well-rehearsed concerns about any Mitchell-Prager wedding.

Delano was not surprised. Though he loved and revered his mother dearly, he knew her well enough to anticipate her reaction to any impending marriage with Zillah. Despite her always being polite with his girlfriend, it was obvious his mother nursed grave doubts about the advisability of their union. So he listened patiently to her long list of reservations. When it was finally his turn to speak, he simply expressed his appreciation for her concerns for him and thanked her for loving him enough to voice them candidly. But he “very respectfully” disagreed and still planned to ask for Miss Prager’s hand in marriage.

That development prompted Mimosa to contemplate playing her last card in a final, desperate effort to dissuade her son from what she firmly believed would prove to be an ill-fated marriage with potentially disastrous consequences for the family’s long-term future. After considerable hesitation, she called the office of long-time family attorney Johnston Pettigrew to request he pay her a call at Mitchell Manor.

Johnston and Delano had been friends since meeting in Mrs. Emmyetta Sawyer’s kindergarten Sunday School class. Mimosa taught Johnston high-school English, and her husband Josiah had provided medical care for him, his father, and Johnston’s sons. Dr. Mitchell turned over all the family’s legal matters to Johnston when their previous attorney retired. As a resullt, Mrs. Mitchell had known Mr. Pettigrew and his family well for many decades.

Johnston Pettigrew, Jr. was a 55-year-old attorney and thirty-year veteran of his father’s law firm. Like most successful small-town lawyers, he had to be adept at all kinds of law to make a good living. Gray-haired, slow-moving, and slightly overweight, he was partial to seersucker suits and was seen by many locals as Petunia Springs’ finest attorney. Universally well regarded, he had been repeatedly asked by both the county’s Democratic and Republican Party chapters to run for public office, but he always respectfully declined, preferring the predictable rhythms of the courtroom to the controversy and the fish-bowl existence of an elected public official.

When Mimosa Mitchell called his law office, she asked if her attorney could please make a house call instead of her having to come downtown.

“Oh, are you feeling poorly, Mrs. Mitchell?” came the concerned reply of Arletha Thornberry, the young black secretary and a former student of Mimosa’s. “I sure hope you’re not trying to take a cold. Lord knows a whole lot of folks have come down with something lately. Maybe it’s the pollen.”

“No, dear, but this is a small town and I don’t wish to give any excuse for tongues to wag.”

“Oh. Yes, ma’am. Well, can I tell Mr. Pettigrew the nature of the meeting?”

“Please tell him it’s an urgent legal matter and strictly confidential.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arletha answered in almost a whisper. “It’ll be just between y’all.”

“Thank you, darling.”

Because Mr. Pettigrew had known the Mitchells his entire life and was fond of them, he readily agreed to see Mimosa at home. It was the secretive nature of the meeting that provoked some curiosity about his old English teacher. He figured her advanced age might be the real culprit behind her reluctance to drive to the office, and he tried to recall the last time he had seen her behind the wheel of a car.

At the appointed time, Johnston arrived at Mitchell Manor, a large house built in 1878 located a few blocks from downtown. Dr. Josiah Mitchell had bought and renovated it for Mimosa. The white, three-story Victorian masterpiece featured one of Petunia Springs’ few turrets, painted dark red, and had a large wrap-around porch full of detailed gingerbread touches. The well-manicured front yard aligned precisely with Mimosa Mitchell’s personality. Both were defined by unswervingly straight lines and sharp edges, with nothing out of place.

He rang the doorbell before relishing the porch’s long line of hanging baskets bursting with pink begonias and red bougainvilleas, below which sat several white wicker rocking chairs and a round table. He smiled recalling the many times he had visited the grand home and sat on this porch when he and Delano were playmates.

Eulonia Sanders, the Mitchells’ long-time housekeeper and part-time cook, opened the door. From overhearing some recent conversations among the Mitchells, the 68-year-old lady had an idea what her employer’s meeting with the attorney was about, but didn’t dare ask. “Hello, Mr. Johnston. How de do? Come on in.”

“Well, look at you” – Johnston marveled — “if it isn’t Eulonia Sanders, just like when I used to come here as a boy. Why, I haven’t seen you in a long time. And you haven’t aged at all!”

“You sho’ know how to tickle an old lady’s pride, Mr. Johnston,” she chuckled. “I be almost 70 now.”

“Well then, as Sir Rod Stewart sings, ‘You wear it well,’ Eulonia. Mighty well.”

“Miss Mimosa, de lawyer’s here.” She laughed and held the door open for him.

“Please escort him to the study, Eulonia,” came the prompt reply.

Entering the library, Johnston noticed many medical books mixed with classics of British and American literature arranged by author, with nary a book out of order. After shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Mrs. Mimosa Mitchell sat erect behind the large desk in front of the largest bookshelf, and Mr. Pettigrew settled into the high-backed chair opposite her. Mrs. Sanders offered him a glass of her homemade lemonade which he eagerly sipped.

“Mmm. Gracious. That’s powerful good, Miss Eulonia. Yes, ma’am, indeed.”

Eulonia grinned. “I remember how much you liked it when you was a boy and used to visit Mr. Delano.”

Johnston beamed. “You remember well, dear.”

“Thank you, Eulonia,” Mimosa stated and her housekeeper left the room, carefully closing the door after her.

Proceed to part 2...