Null Pointer

Loquacious Lumberings

January - Miss Trask

Sample Crawl - 2,615 words

Write for 5 minutes at a sensible pace – 124 words.

Catch up with the goings on by sprinting for 3 minutes. Less than 150 words: Sprint for 1 extra minute – 110 words.

234 words.

Write for 5 minutes at a sensible pace – 216 words.

Catch up with the goings on by sprinting for 3 minutes – 143 words.

Less than 150 words: Sprint for 1 extra minute – 50 words.

Write 250 words as fast as you can – 5:42.

Write the amount of words you’ve written so far in this crawl – 681 words.

Write 1,000 words.

Attempt to write 500 words in 5 minutes. Don’t worry about reaching 500 words; just write for 5 minutes and as quickly as you can – 197 words.

2,615 words.

Miss Trask sank into her favorite chair, kicking off her shoes with a sigh of relief. Her shoes were sturdy and comfortable—sensible for a woman who spent most of the day on her feet, not the several inch tall pinpoint high heels most of the female guests had worn—but she didn’t believe there was a shoe yet made that would still be comfortable after the sixteen hours she’d just spent on her feet.

She relaxed for a moment before beginning a mental review of the event, in preparation for tomorrow’s debrief with Mrs. Wheeler.

Miss Trask chuckled to herself, recalling the surprise Mr. Wheeler’s employees had again exclaimed that Mr. Wheeler had let her leave for the Ten Acres job so easily. As if Matt had been the biggest obstacle in her change of position. He hadn’t been. Matt had said he would give everything he had to help Jim’s school succeed from the first time he heard about Jim’s dream. He had meant it. Giving up Marge had not been cause for even a second’s hesitation. And it shouldn’t have been a cause for hesitation. Celia was more than ready to step into the role of housekeeper. She was better at it, in some ways, than Margery herself, now that the position had more to do with helping Mrs. Wheeler prepare for her charity events than with managing the family schedule. Furthermore, she had not ever technically been a Wheeler International employee. In her first months as Honey’s governess, she had quickly learned what mail was business correspondence, and what was personal, as well as what should be forwarded to Mr. Wheeler, if he was on one of his trips, what should be forwarded to Wheeler International, and what could wait for his return. Once Mr. Wheeler had decided to make a concentrated effort to separate his work and home lives, she had helped him, with tricks picked up in earlier jobs, with how to make sure his business contacts updated their address books to send business correspondence to his Wheeler International office.

When he had finally realized, with only a few friendly suggestions from her, that most of his troubles stemmed from not having an administrative assistant dedicated solely to him, he had set out to hire one. Since Miss Trask had done such a credible job to date, he had asked her to sit in on the interviews. In her time in the Wheeler International offices, when she had needed help with things like guest badges, where conference room such-and-such was located, where the women’s room was on this floor, and the water cooler, and the hot pot of coffee—or how the new-fangled single-serve coffee maker worked, as it turned out—a young intern had come to her attention. Margery had suggested the intern to Matt as a possible candidate for the position. He had asked his other employees about her and interviewed her himself, and came to the same conclusion Miss Trask had, that this young woman had the attention to detail that would make her an exceptional assistant to Mr. Wheeler.

Of course, Matt had then requested Marge’s help to train the woman, since Marge had a better sense of what Matt actually needed than he did, having never had his own administrative assistant before. So she’d spent some months around the NYC headquarters, leading to other employees’ mistaken belief that she was Mr. Wheeler’s personal assistant and not simply his housekeeper, his daughter’s former governess, and his wife’s right-hand in preparing her grand charity extravaganzas.

No, Mr. Wheeler had not been the one she had to convince when Jim wanted her to head up the administrative department at Ten Acres. Mrs. Wheeler, on the other hand, had not been as easy a sell. She hadn’t said no. She wanted Ten Acres, and Jim, to succeed as much as her husband did, but… “How will I manage without you, Marge? I can’t do these events without you!”

It had taken her some time to convince Mrs. Wheeler that Celia would be just as much help in preparing the events. Mrs. Wheeler had still not been thrilled to lose Margery to Ten Acres. “It’s not just the preparations! Celia is a wonderful greeter and hostess, but she can’t do that and be managing all the staff in the background.” Which was true, and how Margery had ended up agreeing that she would still help with the evening and weekend events in the moment. It was also how Margery had ended up on her feet for sixteen hours today. Celia had been running just as hard, so Margery certainly didn’t feel put upon, but she was exhausted. And her feet hurt, even in her sensible shoes.

I have no idea how Mrs. Wheeler does it, she admitted to herself, remembering her former boss’ beautiful silvery stilettos. Mrs. Wheeler had sat down to eat dinner, unlike Celia and Margery, who had eaten at the island counter in the kitchen, but, still, she had spent many hours in those shoes on her feet. Margery cringed just thinking about trying to walk a few steps, let alone several hours, in those shoes, but she’d never been one to believe that fashion trumped comfort. There was no good reason why the two had to be mutually exclusive, after all.

I must be tired, Margery thought. I was supposed to be reviewing how the event went. What went well. What didn’t. So I’ll have something valuable to offer when we gather tomorrow to pull this event apart and see how we did, and how we’ll do it even better next time.

The event had gone as well as such an event ever did. Miss Trask wasn’t sure what the final total raised for Ten Acres had been, but she did know that Jim would make good use of it to fill the new gymnasium and stables with equipment and horses. Miss Trask rubbed her temples. That’s tomorrow’s problem, she reminded herself. You have at least a week before Jim has the final total in hand and calls you, Mr. Wheeler, and Mart together to discuss how to stretch the money as far as possible, and how to get the most benefit for the students from the proceeds of the fundraiser. Don’t borrow trouble. Or work. Once you’ve made it through the debrief with Mrs. Wheeler and Celia, you can consider what you’ll have to offer Jim.

Who knew that agreeing to help Mrs. Wheeler during fundraisers while working at Ten Acres would feel quite so much like having two jobs? And who knew that having two jobs would be so exhausting? It wasn’t as though she’d never worked two jobs before. But, those had been work for pay. She did her best, but at the end of the day, she went home. Now, she was passionate about her work.

She had seen, as a teacher, the difference education made in a child. She had seen what a single course, with a caring, dedicated teacher, could do to alter the course of a child’s life. And she had spent her entire teaching career in private schools, which was to say with children who already had plenty of opportunity for success in their lives. To offer education and that critical relationship with a mentoring teacher to children who had only been offered opportunities for failure, up to this point…. How could she not be passionate about what Ten Acres would become?

And Mrs. Wheeler was nothing like what her fellow teachers had told her a governess’ boss would be. They had warned her, before she left teaching, what being a governess would be like. “You’ll be outside the household servant structure, so you’ll have no authority among them, and they won’t trust you, expecting you to report on them to your—their—employers. You’ll have no friends. And you know how often we get complaints here about how we teach, and about not giving little Rosie her A++ that will get her into Yale, when she can’t divide six by two. But instead of getting those complaints here, on our home turf, you’ll be on their turf, without an administration or teacher’s union to support you, and they’ll turn you out with nothing, and no references, when you refuse to give Miss Wheeler perfect scores.”

“Those who believe the worst of their employers see the worst their employers can be,” she had replied confidently. “Those who believe the best of their employers give their best and are rewarded for it.”

She had never fit in with the teachers at that school any more than Honey had fit in with her classmates. Their departure had been the best thing for both of them. And Mrs. Wheeler had never expected Miss Trask to pad Honey’s transcript or college applications. She had expected Miss Trask to do everything in her power to put Honey into a position where she could earn her place at any university she chose to apply to. Miss Trask was a hard worker, and attentive to detail. The Wheelers had found her invaluable in their transition from high business and society to country family. The servants, far from being distant or suspicious, had welcomed her warmly.

Mrs. Wheeler, far from being a society queen who only cared about her standing and how much charitable work was expected of her station, cared deeply about those served by the charities she gave to and fundraised for. That Miss Trask’s assistance helped her to put on more seamless fundraisers meant she could raise more money – because happy guests are generous guests – which meant more money for deserving causes.

Margery knew many people who didn’t know her well thought Mrs. Wheeler was simply another Mrs. Very Wealthy Businessman. They were wrong. Like many women, Mrs. Wheeler enjoyed shopping. She had a keen eye for decorating a house, or a banquet hall for a fundraiser, or a boys’ dormitory. Very few people knew how insecure she was; how often she looked at working women, or stay-at-home mothers like Helen Belden, and wondered if she had any value at all. How often she felt unskilled. But Mrs. Wheeler had a gift for decorating, and a deep understanding of what motivated people, to go with her deep well of sympathy for those less fortunate, which, after the success Matthew Wheeler had made of his company, was pretty much everyone.

Mrs. Wheeler never refused an interview. It wasn’t about the status, the notoriety. Though Mrs. Wheeler never turned down an interview request, she didn’t do it for the fame. Not because she was desperate to keep herself in the limelight, but because she knew that when she spoke to People about how she’d chosen the bucolic theme for the Ten Acres’ stable fundraiser dinner, the article would include at least one paragraph background on Ten Acres’ mission and vision, and would end with an editor’s note about how interested readers could donate to the campaign.

And that article would be read by hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions. And if 1% of them had fond memories of a childhood trail ride, and another 1% had fought their way to success from a messy childhood, and if each of them gave just a dollar, they’d double what they’d made in tonight’s fundraiser. Many of them would give far more than a single dollar. And if the current owner of any one of the horses Jim would eventually purchase for Ten Acres read the article and was moved, he or she might drop the price as their own manner of donating to the cause. All of that would help the boy who had given Mrs. Wheeler a second chance at family fulfill his dream, a dream that wasn’t about being rich and famous himself, but about giving others who thought they’d lost the chance to dream such things reason to dream of the future again. All without the young man he’d grown into, one who was caring and passionate about seeing Ten Acres to reality, but who abhorred what he felt was the endless artificiality of the celebrity press & media, having to say a single word into a microphone.

Margery shook her head, grinning. She could think of less than a dozen people outside of Sleepyside who would believe her if she tried to tell them that Mrs. Wheeler’s every action was carefully calculated and that the woman was incredibly savvy. And that was how Mrs. Wheeler wanted it, especially now that most of her charitable energy was directed toward fundraising for Ten Acres. Because if Jim ever thought that Mrs. Wheeler took an interview so that he wouldn’t have to, his ingrained sense of honor would refuse to allow her to do it again, and then he’d be pressed into an endless cycle of publicity and fundraising when he could do so many other things much more effectively while Mrs. Wheeler quietly orchestrated a publicity campaign that Hollywood’s paid publicists would envy.

If she tries to talk me into coming back to work for her, next time I might have to point out that she needs me to keep Jim from either noticing what she’s doing for him or interfering, accidently. He’s so busy right now that publicity hasn’t crossed his mind, but some day it will, and with Trixie off on her adventures as a federal agent, and Mr. Wheeler busy with his latest merger, who else around here will be able to talk suborn Jim into accepting the gift his mother is offering? Mrs. Wheeler needs me at Ten Acres. She just doesn’t know it yet. I don’t think. Then again, maybe I underestimate her. Jim would have been surprised if the Wheelers had let me go without a single protest. His years at Manor House have given him an understanding of how invaluable his parents thought I was. If they’d both said simply, “Anything for Ten Acres, and you, son,” he’d have questioned it for days. “Are you certain? I can find someone else. I know how important she is to everything running smoothly at the house….”. Perhaps the protests were honest, but Mrs. Wheeler knew I would take the Ten Acres job, because she knew I believe in Jim’s vision as much as she does.

Or maybe she could just tell I needed a new challenge in my life, Margery thought wryly. Margery had never been one for long periods of idleness. She believed in rest and relaxation. People needed to recharge, from time to time. But she was never without a project for more than a few days, and when the available projects grew slim, she would find herself hungering for a real challenge. Bringing Manor House’s operations to the level of an efficient, well-tuned machine had been a big one. Helping the Wheelers make a family of themselves had been an enjoyable one. Training Celia to take her place as housekeeper and head of staff, without the young woman, who believed herself too junior for the position, panicking and refusing, had kept her busy recently, but now she was ready for something different. Something new. Something hard. Ten Acres provided her that opportunity and she was eager to begin.

I should just go to bed. These idle musing aren’t productive in the least, but try as I might, I just can’t find the energy for more productive musings toward the advice Mrs. Wheeler and Jim will both be looking for from me soon enough.

In the morning. The morning will be soon enough. First I need rest. And to put my feet up. And maybe, just maybe, if a girl can dream a little, a Swedish masseuse named Sven to stop by. “Why, Miss Trask, I have you on my calendar for an 11:30 massage,” he’d say, strolling in after a firm knock on the door—

Her still idle musings were interrupted by a firm knock on the door. She stopped herself just in time as “Come in, Sven!” came to her lips. “Yes?” She called instead.

Celia stuck her head in. “I thought you might still be awake.”

“Not to any productive degree,” Miss Trask admitted ruefully. “Did you need something more tonight?”

“Not particularly,” Celia admitted, coming in. “I just wondered how you thought it went.”

“I thought it went very well. I was just contemplating the article in People.”

“What article in People? I didn’t hear anything about an article.”

Margery waved a hand. “There isn’t one, yet. But there will be. Mrs. Wheeler will accept the interview, when it’s offered. She’s going to make a very good publicist for Ten Acres, so long as Jim doesn’t get on his honorability and refuse the help.”

“He can be so stubborn about accepting help, sometimes. You should have heard my Tom the other night, after he and Jim went out to look at that pickup Jim was thinking about buying for the academy.”

“I’ll work on him, but it’ll take time for him to learn he can’t do something as big as his vision for Ten Acres all by himself, and that he doesn’t have to do it alone.”