Look Both Ways Read online

  In the heartache and grief that followed, he repeatedly told himself that hate was not an emotion he could consider, but animosity grew rapidly. Tracey was an enticing woman and knew how to use her body to bring him to his knees, but soon even that seemed sordid. When she asked for a divorce, he agreed immediately. The dates he had after their divorce only reminded him of how difficult relationships can be, and coming home alone reminded him how desperately he needed a woman.

  He thought of Susan and became painfully aroused. The way her nose crinkled in anger. Her perfect body and charming wit. Even her height, which, judging from his own six-foot, three-inch frame, he estimated at close to six feet in heels, was a perfect match. Was she a decoy? Was romance all a game where women said what they thought men wanted to hear and vice versa? Could he trust his heart to another woman?

  “I’ll have to, because I don’t know how much longer I can survive this way.”

  * * *

  The next day, Susan drafted her response to Rev. Cartwright’s allegations. She reviewed the files again, and noted the reasons Price’s staff had given for denying the loans, as well as the reasons she would have denied them. With each word she wrote, Willard Cartwright’s face was there, staring, smiling. The thought of facing him filled her with excitement and terror.

  As she dialed his number, her heart skipped several beats. She felt sixteen again and twitched with the same excitement as when Bobby Reynolds had escorted her to the school dance. The rush was invigorating, but the thought of succumbing to Rev. Cartwright’s undeniable charm produced fear.

  “Miss Cross. It’s nice of you to respond so quickly.”

  The sparkle in his voice evoked an appealing image. She took a deep breath and held her hand over her heart as if she were trying to keep it in place or protect it from feelings she could not control.

  “It’s my job, Rev. Cartwright. When would you like to meet to discuss my findings? Also, please let me know if you plan to bring your entourage so I can round up a posse of my own. I’ll have a hard time matching Deacon Jones, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Tomorrow is fine. I’ll be alone, and I apologize for Deacon Jones. He’s an old war-horse who has logged many hours defending the rights of others. His eyesight is poor and his mobility limited, but he refuses to pass the torch. He meant no disrespect. Is two o’clock good for you?”

  Susan said it was and spent the rest of the day and most of the night rehearsing what she would say and trying to still her frazzled nerves. She dressed with him in mind the following morning. Ignoring her mother’s advice to dress to impress, not entice, she chose a stylish suit that highlighted her curves. It was red with a neckline just a little lower than she normally wore to the office. The jacket was long and sleek and showed just a hint of the lacy camisole underneath. She added pearls and a dragonfly pin to the lapels. She dusted her cheeks and eyelids with sienna and smoothed a lightly frosted glaze over her lipstick. Instead of the usual straight hairdo, she added curls and combed her auburn tresses to one side.

  “I heard you, Mom.” She reached for the red bottle of Samsara and spritzed her neck and wrists. “But today I need to impress…and entice.”

  The workday was wasted. Susan was simply unable to concentrate. She was anxious to see him again, but terrified of what would happen when she did. She willed herself to remain calm; this was no ordinary day, and Willard Cartwright was no ordinary man. Going to the restroom mirror, she practiced putting on several faces—indifference, intolerance, and anger—before concluding that control was all she could reasonably hope to attain.

  Her planning was in vain. When the big man walked through the door, her knees weakened. Her efforts to remain calm failed, and the walls seemed to close in around her. Everything about him intrigued her. Her hands trembled, and a woozy sensation caused her to hold onto the arms of her chair.

  “Hello, Miss Cross.” His thundering voice was filled with pleasantness. “Thank you for your prompt response.”

  He wore a deep-blue suit, periwinkle shirt, and no tie. His black alligator loafers were spit-shined to perfection. She imagined standing next to him, lying next to him, having his mouth on her body.

  “No need to thank me. As I told you yesterday, I’m just doing my job. The charges leveled by your group are serious, and I’m as anxious to get to the bottom of this as you are.” She sensed a speck of displeasure in his eyes when she did not return his smile.

  “Rev. Cartwright, I went back two months into Sealand’s records. In that time, eleven applications were taken for loans in your community. Five were approved and six were rejected. For my own peace of mind, I underwrote each one, using industry-approved guidelines. Even with a friendly and liberal approach, I could not, in keeping with my duty to this company, approve any of the loans.”

  He frowned and she held up her hand. “At least, not without further information.”

  As she had expected, her voice faltered. Her words failed her. Anguish grew in her heart. She could not tell the complete truth, which made everything she said sound like a lie in her mind, and she was sure in his as well. She was angry with him, with Price, and with herself for not having better control over the situation.

  “In some cases only minor documentation was missing, but from my perspective, none of the files were green lights. I’m sending letters to each applicant with a complete explanation. I’m offering my services to help them through the paperwork, and I’m offering to waive origination fees once their loans are approved.”

  Her offer was sincere, but she knew her tone was a bit too forceful. She wanted to prove her point and humble Rev. Cartwright, and it showed.

  “Did they get to you already?”

  She leaned forward, wanting to meet his gaze. “You’re out of line, Rev. Cartwright. Way out of line. I don’t own or run this company, but I can guarantee you, I call the shots as I see them. The loan application packages in question were incomplete. If you doubt my word, I’ll gladly review each file with the applicant in the presence of an attorney of your choice. I’ll—”

  He held up both hands. “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I am out of line.”

  His frown faded, but doubt and mistrust still lurked in his eyes.

  “Miss Cross, before we go any further, do you think it would be possible to declare some sort of armistice? I misspoke. I didn’t mean to accuse you personally. I’m sure you had no knowledge of what transpired here, especially since you weren’t here when it happened, but the facts are still there. You said five loans were approved. Did you notice anything that distinguished these loans from the ones that were rejected?”

  She knew exactly where he was heading. “The approvals were government-backed loans, and the rejected loans were conventional. I’m sure you knew that because two of the applicants who were approved never returned to complete the deal.”

  He looked away and she intensified her rebuttal.

  “They were obviously sent here by you or someone else, just to see if they could get approval. I don’t know how familiar you are with lending criteria, but I can assure you, government loans have fewer and less stringent policies than conventional loans because they’re less of a risk for the lender.”

  “So you’re offering a little bonus, no origination fee, if they reapply and qualify?” Even though he had asked for a truce, his tone was gritty and critical.

  “I’ve activated the files so that reapplication isn’t necessary. Each letter will explain what is needed for approval. In two cases, unless there’s been a drastic change in their financial situation, I doubt that we can approve the loans, and certainly not for the requested amount, but the rest can qualify.”

  His eyes narrowed. He was clearly weighing what she had said.

  “Let me see if I understand. You’re admitting that most of the loans could be approved, so you’re offering a little something for their inconvenience? We don’t want handouts, Miss Cross, just the truth.”

  She placed her hands in her lap
, laced her fingers, and still felt she might throw something at him. She had told the truth. Each loan application package lacked at least one vital document. What she could not say was that the letters to the applicants simply stated they did not qualify without advising them that they probably could.

  “Waving origination fees is not to be considered a handout.” She searched for a way to fully disclose her feelings without admitting what she suspected Price had done. “I’m waiving origination fees because each applicant should have been clearly advised of the documentation needed for approval, and I don’t see that this was done, certainly not to my satisfaction.”

  She thought back to her reason for applying for a job at Sealand. She and Stan had rented a small studio apartment when they married, and had plans to purchase a home as soon as possible. When Sealand offered her a part-time position that paid twice the salary of her bookstore clerk job, she’d placed most of the money in savings for their dream of home ownership. Those individuals whose loans had been denied, she felt, had the same dream. She would have handled each one differently. She would have handled them fairly.

  “I’m sure it’s very disappointing to learn you can’t purchase the home you dreamed of owning. I’m not sure these prospective borrowers were told they could qualify by providing additional information. Copies of pay stubs, gift letters for money being used as a down payment, proof of clear title to an automobile—all minor issues, but critical to prove their ability to repay the debt.”

  Trying not to wilt under his stare, she began speaking more slowly, watching him watching her.

  “You must also know that this institution is in the middle of the conservative spectrum. While trying to be the best, not necessarily the biggest, we follow established guidelines, and it’s that practiced caution that has kept Sealand afloat and profitable while many others have gone under. Like selling cars or anything else, our production employees are rewarded by the number of loans they approve, not the ones they turn away.”

  He said nothing, but his wary expression sent Susan’s temperature soaring. He wasn’t buying her story, and her confidence was slipping. Her heart had been weakened by his intense appeal. Her emotions kept getting in the way of rational thinking. Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, she coiled into strike position and lashed out.

  “You must be a busy man, Rev. Cartwright. How do you find time for these little confrontations? You say it wasn’t your intention to initiate a combative relationship, but that’s exactly what you did from the moment you first walked through that door. I understand and admire your need to serve your community, but this is strictly business. It’s not about race or boundaries.”

  He finally blinked. “I came here, not so much for answers, but to end the discrimination Sealand imposed on my neighborhood. I could have gone to the press and, if nothing else, created a lot of bad publicity. I’ve apologized for our earlier meeting. We fired the first shot and you retaliated, but this is not a personal attack. Can you abandon your defensive anger and just concentrate on the facts?”

  “I will if you will, Rev. Cartwright,” she said impassively.

  “I’ll just state the facts as I see them, no conjecture, no editorializing. Our records clearly show that some loan applications for properties in your neighborhood were denied. Others were approved. I’ve reviewed the rejects and I agree that the loans, as they stand, should have been denied. I remain doubtful regarding Sealand’s communication efforts to the applicants, so I am offering to meet with them individually, waive fees, and make a concerted effort to rectify the situation. Any loans that can be approved, which are probably all but two, will be expediently reviewed. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Now, Miss Cross, you know as well as I do that Sealand had to approve those government applications. The others were rejected because Sealand didn’t want to make any loans in Cedargrove Heights unless it had to do so. Redlining is prohibited. If this practice were known to exist, the government agencies involved would void any commitments formerly issued to this company. I want those loans approved, Miss Cross, without further delay. As head of production, were you not given the authority to set this right?”

  “Questioning my weight again, are you?” Her tone was still controlled and even, but the fire in her eyes raged brightly. “I have full authority to carry out the duties of this position, Rev. Cartwright. Let me reiterate that I cannot approve any of the loans unless issues related to the applicant’s credit, employment, or past payment history are resolved. I can only discuss the particulars with the applicants.”

  He shook his head and looked into her eyes. Her thoughts zigzagged. She was losing control. Gripping the arms of the chair with trembling hands, she wondered if she was not convincing because she could not convince herself, or because the man before her had everything that was missing in her life. She searched for concluding words that would pack the punch she needed to win the round. Smiling slightly, she continued.

  “As I stated, most of the situations are easily rectified.”

  “Well, if it’s so simple, you should be able to approve them now. I’m sure you know the courts will uphold what I’m saying.”

  “Rev. Cartwright, court dockets are packed with claims that are not only frivolous and unfounded, but just plain stupid. Unfortunately, a lot of these nuisance claims are settled simply to defray the cost of a defense, but I will not put aside this company’s underwriting guidelines just to rid myself of a nuisance.”

  His body jerked as if he had been struck, and she immediately regretted her choice of words and her inflammatory delivery. His smile became rigid.

  “I see. I’m very sorry to have been a nuisance, and I’m sorry you and I couldn’t have met under different circumstances. I will trouble you no further, Miss Cross. Good day.” He nodded and left.

  Her heart sank. No matter how well prepared she had been, looking into those eyes and watching the movements of his powerful body had turned her to putty. She started to run after him, but by the time she was able to command her feet to move, Price had charged into her office at a full trot and was bombarding her with questions.

  “That man is determined to create a lot of public speculation about this company, and that’s not good for our image. What did he want this time?”

  “Just a continuation of our earlier discussion.”

  She blurted out a question that had been in the back of her mind since the Cedargrove matter had been dropped on her shoulder. “In case of an emergency, how do we contact Mr. Deeds?”

  “From what I heard he’s out of the country.”

  He turned to leave, but suddenly realizing the weight of her question, he turned and gleefully asked, “Is it that bad? Don’t you think you should tell me what’s going on? Are those people suing Sealand?”

  “I plan to inform everyone at the same time. I have a few other assessments to make, which, hopefully, I can conclude this weekend. We’ll discuss the matter in detail at the next management meeting.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Rev. Cartwright left the emotionally charged meeting with Susan and joined an even more daunting one in the meeting hall at Cedargrove Baptist Church. As his father’s assistant, he had felt the arrows of discontent from congregation members, but his father had been there to deflect the sting. He wondered if his father had been a stronger man. Feeling dejected and physically beat, he stopped in front of his parents’ home and tried to calm his frayed nerves.

  The wonderful aroma of his mother’s cooking was comforting, even in his agitated state. “Hi, Mom,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Something smells mighty good in here.”

  “Thanks, dear. It’s pork roast and yams. I’ll call when dinner is ready and you can help your father in to the table.”

  He stopped in the doorway and looked at his father. He knew a wide vein of pain and helplessness was hidden under the senior Cartwright’s façade of indomitability.

  “Hey, Pop,” he said, briefly resting his hand on the old man’
s shoulder.

  “What put that frown on your face? The meeting at Sealand or the one at the church?” Rev. Cartwright Sr. asked.

  “Both.”

  “I don’t know what transpired at Sealand, but I know why Clyde Otis is so fired up. He’s a skunk, and simply put, he aims to turn the spotlight on himself by any means available to him. He’s always been that way. He still wants my pulpit, and it’s eating him up that you got it. If he had bat brains, he would recognize his own shortcomings. The church voted him down because they knew he couldn’t stand up. He’s a weasel.”

  Will listened to the sounds of home. His mother in the kitchen. His father watching the news and offering his usual support. It was the only part of his life that felt right.

  “He as much as accused me of being the weasel because I advised against legal action. On top of that, I went down to Sealand and made matters worse. I can’t seem to have a good exchange with Miss Cross, and I did try,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know what it was today. It was as if she was trying to say something without actually admitting wrongdoing. I antagonized her, and that’s not what I wanted to do.”

  “You want to ask her out, so why don’t you?”

  “That’s not even a thought right now. She can’t stand the sight of me. I’ll keep trying to make this right, but I’m afraid Otis will act out of his own selfishness and initiate legal action. I don’t want that for the people involved, or for her.”

  He heard his mother setting the table. “Come on, Pop, I’ll help you into the kitchen. Or do you prefer to use the walker?”

  “Since you’re standing with me, I’ll try the walker.” Using his son’s arm, he pulled himself up from the chair and grasped the rubber-covered handles. “I feel like I dumped my problems on you when I had this stroke. Don’t let Clyde or this situation get you down.”

  Will put an arm around his father’s shoulder and guided him into the kitchen. Mrs. Cartwright brought filled glasses of lemonade to the table.