Chapter 2

I called the number Julian had provided twice before getting an answer on my third try. Evidently Georgia Hamilton wasn't big on answering machines.

"Hello."

"Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Georgia Hamilton?"

"Sorry, no. Georgia's not currently in the city."

"This is Jim Stallworth. I'm a reporter for the Columbus Record. I need to speak to Ms. Hamilton about an interview for a feature story."

"Are you a sports guy?"

"Am I a sports guy? ... No ... Why?"

"Georgia just did it yesterday -- broke the NCAA scoring record for women's basketball. You're the first reporter to call!"

"I ... wasn't calling about that. Didn't even know about it, although that's interesting. I've been trying to reach Ms. Hamilton since yesterday, but there's been no answer at this number."

"She's in California. At the UCLA Tournament there. First game. I mean, it was Pepperdine University they beat last night. They play UCLA tonight before heading back here."

"So she won't be back until the 30^th?"

"That's right. Wee hours sometime, I guess. And she'll want to sleep in, too, I imagine."

"Could you ask her to call me sometime on the 30^th? It's kind of time-sensitive, the thing I need to discuss with her."

"But you're not the sports guy?"

"No. Would you like me to call the Washington Post for you, ask them whether they're tracking Ms. Hamilton's performance?"

"No. No, I'm sure they probably are. But women's sports don't get a lot of attention, you know? From the papers?"

"I guess not."

"So I was hoping you were calling about Georgia's record."

"Well, I am interested in doing a story about her if she will cooperate. And certainly her playing major college basketball, and having a new scoring record, would be well worth a mention. It's just that I'm not a sports reporter."

"So it's about her academic honors?"

"Uh. Well. Listen, Miz -- what did you say your name was?"

"I don't think I did. Tell you my name. Why?" She sounded cautious. Suspicious.

"Let me explain. You may know that Georgia's birthday is January first. She's going to be twenty-one on Tuesday."

"Oh yes, I know all about that."

"Georgia was the New Year's Baby story in her hometown -- Columbus, Ohio -- the year she was born. First child born locally in the New Year. I was the reporter who did the story about her for the Columbus Record."

"I remember you!"

"You do?"

"Yes! I'm Georgia's mother! Your photographer took my picture with Georgia in my arms, late that night not long after she was born."

"Oh! So you're Mrs. Hamilton. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

I remembered Mrs. Hamilton a little more vividly than I probably should. I had gone into her hospital room a little too boldly -- barged right in, actually -- and had caught her giving Georgia Hamilton, New Year's Baby, her first taste of mother's milk. I hadn't really seen that much, but what I had seen had been ... memorable.

"I'm living here with Georgia now," she explained, taking me out of my reverie.

"Here in D.C.?" I said, somewhat densely.

"That's right. I work in the university hospital. Georgia and I share an apartment right off campus."

"Well, that's great, Mrs. Hamilton. If you're willing, that will give me a chance to interview you both and maybe get you into the picture too."

"Call me Charlotte," she said. "We're old friends, after all. I guess you could say I've known you for twenty-one years ... The picture? What picture?"

"I thought I'd photograph Georgia again, so the paper could run then-and-now shots showing her twenty-one years apart. You were in the previous picture, and showing you with her again would be a nice touch."

"The one your paper ran in 1987, I had Georgia in my arms. I don't think we could quite manage that nowadays."

"She plays basketball. I gather that Georgia's a big girl now."

"Very big," Charlotte Hamilton said, laughing. "Bigger than her mama, that's for sure!"

"I'll be doing my own photography this time around," I told her. "Digital. We can take a variety of shots, give the paper a choice."

"I can't believe you came all the way from Columbus to talk to Georgia about a little feature story," Charlotte said.

"No, no, I didn't. I work here in the District. I'm the paper's political correspondent now. Or at least I will be until next Wednesday."

"What happens next Wednesday?" she asked.

"The Columbus Record is ceasing publication. Georgia's feature story would be in our last edition."

"Oh! That's sad. I always liked your paper when we lived in Columbus."

"Thank you. And yes, it is sad. I've been with the paper since the week Georgia's story came out."

"What will you do?" she asked, concerned now for my future.

"I've got a good job lined up already," I said. "It's not a question of money or security. It's just saying goodbye to the old paper and to the gang of people I've worked with all these years."

"Yes, I can understand that ... But it does give this little story a bit of extra significance, doesn't it?"

I agreed that the circumstances did boost the story a bit. "From some of the things you've said, I gather that your daughter is quite an interesting subject for a feature."