Prescott comes to the Fund’s annual breakfast.
Alone.
He sits in the back.
He has never asked me to tell Garrett he came, and I never have, and I’ve decided that’s the deal.
Blythe writes at Christmas.
Short notes.
Last year’s said: “Mom still says ‘careful.’ I’ve stopped. — B.”
That’s more than I expected.
And Everett Pruitt does not carry trays anymore.
That’s the thing I did.
When the events company’s facilities director retired in the fall, I asked Everett whether he wanted it, and he said he’d never managed anybody, and I said he’d managed a service elevator for thirty-one years better than most people manage a department, and he took it.
He runs the building.
All of it.
Floors four through seven included.
There’s a plaque now.
Small, brass, on the wall of the service corridor behind the ballroom — not in the lobby; I was firm about that, and Everett agreed, because the people who need to see it walk through the back.
