Look Both Ways Read online

  “What did crazy Clyde do now?” she asked.

  “Same crazy stuff he’s always done to get attention. I knew he’d make things hard for Willie.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Pop. I can handle Clyde Otis.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. He’s a self-centered braggart.” Rev. Cartwright Sr. elaborated, looking at his wife, “I’ve always known he was a crook, but your mother didn’t. She even dated him back before we married. I suspect that’s the reason he’s been carrying a grudge all these years. He is angry because I married her and he didn’t.”

  Mrs. Cartwright grunted her disagreement, saying, “I didn’t date Clyde Otis. I went to the movies with a group of my friends and he happened to be in the group.” She placed a comforting hand on her son’s arm. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “I must look pretty bedraggled if you’re offering me wine, Mom. I’m fine with the tea.”

  “Looks like you’ve had a hard day. You need to relax.” She sat next to her husband and looked across the table at her son. “How did your meeting with the mortgage company go?”

  “Awful,” Will answered. He could not stop thinking of Susan Cross. He had sat in his car after their heated discussion and tried to collect his thoughts. His vivid memory of her body didn’t help. He was ashamed and frustrated. “I’m trying to keep peace here, but I went down to that company and spoke out of mind, not my heart.”

  “You’ve got that backwards, son.” His father spoke matter-of-factly. “Your heart did the talking. Your mouth just didn’t say the right things.”

  * * *

  The rest of Susan’s week was filled with associating names with faces. She used her special mnemonic system to remember who did what, but the task proved to be more taxing than she had imagined. Her catalogue of who’s who in the Canton office was miniscule compared to the staff roster for the Houston office. There appeared to be at least two people for each position. No one seemed particularly busy, but most of them needed her input before decisions were made. While fulfilling daily duties, she continued to gather information for her report. She also added possible overstaffing to her growing list of concerns.

  “I was able to get copies of all rejected loan files for Cedargrove Heights since inception of the development,” she told Angie over lunch. “I know Price’s people are not on my side, but no one suspects my motives for requesting the files and no questions were asked.”

  “Just as I said, you have the upper hand when the people around you underestimate your abilities or your intentions. That has always been my insurance.”

  “I also decided that economic fluctuations dictate I review several loans that were approved at the time each Cedargrove loan was denied. That will give us a comparative basis.”

  “Good thinking,” Angie said.

  “I wish I had more time to devote to Cedargrove, but whenever I get a little free time another crisis develops. I’m beginning to wonder what they did before I arrived, and that maybe I was shortchanged on my new salary. When I take one of those files and start a review, I already know the outcome. So far, I have only seen two loan applications with denials that wouldn’t hold up in court, and Sealand got lucky both times. One applicant had a job-related accident and decided to wait for an insurance settlement before purchasing a house. The other is a young couple now in the middle of a divorce.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension. “These files were sloppily underwritten, to say the least. I know some, if not all, of Price’s employees are involved. I can’t help wondering if Price is the highest link in the chain.”

  Friday was a day of pure torture. She regretted every recent decision she had made, including accepting her current position. She wanted to call Rev. Cartwright and apologize, but feared he would hear the hypocrisy in her regrets. Her other fear was of weakening at the sound of his voice.

  She worked through lunch, as she did most days, but somehow found time to thank Tom Waverly, the source of her extensive knowledge of the lending industry. One of the founding partners at Sealand, he had become a figurehead when she was hired, and readily admitted he was just waiting “to be put out to pasture.” With lots of time and a wealth of information to share, he seemed happy to have a willing listener. The knowledge he passed along to Susan was priceless, especially now.

  Fondly and gratefully remembering an old man in English tweed with elbow patches, she called her favorite florist in Canton and had the largest plant they offered delivered to Mr. Tom Waverly with her heartfelt thanks.

  Thankful the day had lurched to an end, Susan crammed her briefcase with loan files, picked up a stack of reports, and prepared to leave. After locking her office door, she turned and literally ran into Travis in the hallway.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he offered.

  Shifting the binders that teetered uncertainly against her chest brought her close enough to be reminded of the pleasure a man’s arms could bring.

  “Don’t tell me you have nothing better to do on the weekend than ponder over this mess. Get out and explore the city. Houston has a great theater district, and a few clubs that actually cater to those of us who are over twenty-five.”

  “I’m sure it’s a wonderful city, but its size and my poor sense of direction tend to dampen my adventurous spirit. I’m basically confined to the area between my apartment and here, except for shopping and eating. That leaves entertainment. Are there any good jazz clubs in town?”

  “Well, if I may be so bold, I’d love to take you to this great little jazz club in Montrose tomorrow night. It’s an area north of here.” He pointed to her right. “The place is small, so we would have to arrive early to find a seat, but I know you’ll like the band. Can you make it?”

  “Sure, I’d love to. Thank you.” His smile was not as sweet and inviting as Rev. Cartwright’s, she thought, and she did not trust his professional loyalties, but she needed a night out. “I enjoy live music. I actually prefer the kind with lyrics I can sing without having to do penance. With the current crop of singers and musicians, that means listening to the oldies or jazz. ”

  “I agree. When I’m not listening to jazz, I put on the oldies. Motown. The Philly sound. It doesn’t get better than that. Of course, your oldies are probably a lot newer than mine.”

  “I guess my oldies are a little more current, but I can listen to Al Green for days.” She put her purse on the hood of her Jeep and reached in for a pen. “Let me give you my address…or I can meet you there if you prefer.”

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy. I’ll pick you up.”

  She tore the address corner of a page from her new checkbook and jotted her cell phone number on the edge. “What time should I expect you?”

  “Let’s have dinner first, say seven? The restaurant is close by, so I’ll pick you up around six-thirty. I’ll introduce you to our Tex-Mex cuisine if your stomach can handle the challenge.”

  Feeling more carefree than she had since arriving in Houston, she shopped for groceries before going home. As soon as she got home, she made a hearty salad and called her mother. Tammy sensed her mood change right away.

  “You sound much more upbeat than you did on Monday. Have you discovered anything new?”

  “Not really. I know the ship is full of rats, and I’m almost certain Price Bishop leads the pack. Guess I’ll have to find out if Mr. Deeds was also involved before I can determine my intended role.”

  “Well, don’t let it bother you,” Tammy replied. “I was an oddity in the operating room when I began, but I learned to live with it, and the people around me learned to stay out of my way. It’s called respect and, believe me, that is the key. I want to be liked by my coworkers, but I insist on respect, and I never let cynics or assholes get me down. ”

  “I’m not worried, just curious. I did meet a nice man at work, Travis Polk, head of the appraisal department. He asked me out for dinner and jazz tomorrow night.”

  “O-h-h-h! So that accounts fo
r the lilt in your voice. I knew there was a man behind the change,” Tammy bubbled, sounding relieved. “Your father and I hoped you’d find romance in your new city.”

  “Don’t go there, Mother. He probably felt sorry for the lonely newcomer and invited me on a pity date. Besides, if my salary was a problem for Stanford, imagine how Travis will feel. I’m his boss’s boss.”

  Her father joined in. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll find the right man. Enjoy your evening out, but stay clear of office romances. They’re usually more trouble than they’re worth.”

  Not for the first time, her mother shared a few memories of her first year as a scrub nurse and Susan began to relax. She would enjoy her weekend and try not to worry about Sealand, Cedargrove, or the handsome Rev. Cartwright.

  * * *

  Sleeping late on Saturdays was a holdover from her college days, but this Saturday Susan awakened before daybreak and began her day with a cup of coffee and a toasted bagel. In short order, she fed Dino, did a load of laundry, and tackled household chores.

  Sealand provided a housecleaning service on Fridays, but this was home for now and she wanted to add her personal touch. She arranged brightly colored placemats on the table and lit candles, igniting fond memories of her marriage. She knew Stan had loved her. His fingerprint on her life would be hard to remove, but the finality of their divorce precluded any hope of reunion. She was alone, but she was not afraid.

  She put on a simple black dress, pulled her hair back in a loose twist, and waited for her date. Travis was on time, earning his first plus of the evening. Casually sharp in dark slacks, plaid jacket, and open-collar shirt, he looked much younger than he had the day before, and more relaxed. He wore his hair closely trimmed, and his mustache formed a heavy line across smooth brown skin.

  “You look radiant,” he said, beaming when she opened the door. “I hope you’re hungry. The restaurant serves huge portions of fantastic food. It’s also close to the club.”

  “As a matter of fact, I am hungry. I got carried away with household chores and forgot to eat.”

  After she locked the door, he then took her arm and escorted her to the elevator. “Tell me you’re not one of those women who constantly counts calories. You have a perfect figure.”

  She quickly adjusted her bodice to cover the area of her chest on which his eyes were resting.

  “The only problem with a perfect figure is keeping it that way. I don’t gain weight easily, but with two brothers and a former college all-star father, I was very active back home. Since my ‘teammates’ are all in Ohio, I might have to join a gym.”

  “What sports did you and your family play?”

  “You name it. Dad loves basketball, and so do my brothers. Even Mom likes to shoot hoops. Mom and Dad both play golf. I played occasionally.”

  “So what’s your handicap?” he asked, escorting her to his car that was parked in front of her apartment building.

  She laughed. “I was too bad to have a handicap. I would swing and pray I had hit the ball.”

  They continued talking sports while he toyed with the radio dial. Casual conversation turned more personal once they were inside the restaurant.

  “I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I always wonder about pretty women who are still single. You’re not just pretty; you’re accomplished, confident, and gracious. Even Mr. Van Dyke, the building maintenance superintendent, called you an angel, and he never seems to like anyone. Is being single a matter of choice or just not finding the right guy?”

  “I’m not offended by your question. I married when I was still in college. My career took off, his didn’t. The ensuing friction drove us apart over a year ago. Since then, I haven’t met anyone to occupy that special place in my life, and I’m not really looking. If it happens, it happens. If not, I’ll still make the best of my life. What about you?” she asked, brushing Stan’s image from her mind. “Divorced? Never married?”

  “I was married. We became engaged in high school. I joined the military, and she decided to find someone else. She was divorced with a child when I returned, but she and one of my sisters were friends and my mother adored her, so we saw each other often. We got back together and married. I adopted her son, Michael, and we had a daughter, Kayla.”

  She saw the light in his eyes when he mentioned the children. “If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”

  “Oh, no. I’m long over her. I just miss the kids. Mike was only two when we married, so he’s as much mine as if I had fathered him. Her first husband was an irresponsible jerk, and the one she’s married to now isn’t much better,” he said, ruefully. “I’ll never understand how any man could ignore his child, especially one as lovable as Mike. My little girl is adorable. A real know-it-all. I miss them both.”

  She listened sympathetically, while choking her way through a jalapeno-laced dish.

  “Alfreda wanted it all, and she wanted it immediately. I wanted security. I said the word portfolio and she began counting the pairs of shoes in her closet. My family was poor. Not uneducated or unskilled, just too many mouths to feed. I’m one of seven children, and we watched both parents work hard to make ends meet. There’s no way I’m going to slave all of my life and end up with no more than I was born with, or so deep in debt I can’t rest at night.”

  “So you basically divorced over money, too. What a shame.”

  “Yeah. She gave me an ultimatum: buy her a nicer home or she’d take the kids and leave. I didn’t, she did.” There was no bitterness in his voice.

  “I hope you have a good relationship with your children. I hate seeing kids suffer during divorce. That’s one reason I’m glad Stan and I didn’t have children.”

  “I have a good, but distant, relationship with the kids. Freda married a lawyer, and they live from paycheck to paycheck in that nice house she wanted. I suppose that compensates for having a husband who rarely sleeps at home. It’s one of those ‘be careful what you wish for’ situations.”

  Now, detecting bitterness, she was relieved when he asked a question she did not mind answering.

  “So what about your family?”

  “Dad is a high school principal. Mom is a nurse. I have two brothers, one younger, one older. I miss my family more that I ever imagined, and I’ve only been in Texas two weeks.”

  “A teacher’s kid?” His eyes twinkled. “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She liked his teasingly pleasant smile.

  “The worst kids around belong to teachers and preachers. Didn’t you know that?”

  “Not in my family. Dad was very strict. Loving, but strict. I was an obedient child.”

  “I’m not too sure about that. I detect a bit of mischief in your eyes. Little demon kid.” He held his drink aloft and smiled.

  She laughed. “No way. My parents were firm disciplinarians, rigid but fair, and they were very loving. My brothers and I towed the line unless we wanted to see the veins pop up in my father’s forehead. The entire family helped keep us straight. My paternal grandmother taught me a few lessons that still keep me out of trouble.”

  “How so?”

  “Mama Em, her name was Emelda, came to live with us when I was around eight. She told me stories about her youth, and in every story, no matter how tough things became, she managed to retain dignity and control. Being in control of my life is my prime endeavor. I want to say when, where, and how much.”

  “Are you speaking personally or professionally?”

  “Both. I’ve never used drugs, never smoked cigarettes, and I’ve never been wasted on alcohol. I obey laws and never take unnecessary chances. As Mama Em always said, I don’t throw rocks at the penitentiary. I like to have fun and I’m not totally inflexible. I’m willing to bend, but I like who I am. Anyone wishing to share my life will have to accept that.”

  “Was that a problem for you and Stan?”

  She thought about her answer while remembering Stan’s anger, hurled accusations, and the clash th
at could have ended tragically.

  “No, the problem with Stan was insecurity. It drove him to hit me, and that is not something I will live with.”

  “He was violent?”

  “Not really. Not at all.” The face next to hers in her their wedding photo was the one she preferred to remember. “We were so in love and so happy for the first two years of our marriage. We graduated college, and I started working full-time at Sealand while working on my MBA at night. Stan was recruited by a subsidiary of a big software company. He dreamed of being this innovative software designer who would revolutionize the industry and make a mint. Of course, everyone in the firm had the same aspirations. There were no promotions and few raises. In the meantime, I was promoted from loan processor to underwriter, and then to head underwriter in no time flat.”

  “And he was jealous of your career.”

  “Oh, yeah. He was bothered that I made more money than he, and that I had a life outside our home. We had both planned to pursue advanced degrees, but while Stan was sitting around complaining in the evenings, I was in class. He blamed his lack of progress…you know the story. He was the victim of discrimination, didn’t attend the right college, didn’t fit in with the others. My schedule was tight, so he was alone a lot. I guess he had too much time to obsess over what he thought was failure.”

  “Did you try to get him to stop blaming others and take charge of his life?”

  She nodded. “Lots of long sermons, but things went from bad to worse. He would jokingly say that Sealand meant more to me than he did. I started sensing anger under the jokes, so I tried as hard as I knew how to make him see how much he meant to me. We had planned a night out, but I had an unexpected business dinner to attend. He was drinking when I got home. We argued and he slapped me.”

  “Is that when you left?”

  “I left, but not immediately. I just sat there at first, too stunned to react, and he fell asleep. The more I thought of what had happened, the sting on my skin…” She shook her head, as if seeking to clear it of a painful memory. “I just went crazy. I looked all over the house for something to hit him with, but a stupid wrench was the heaviest thing I could find. I raised it over my head and came down as hard as I could. When he didn’t move, I thought I had killed him. I ran out and drove to my parents’ home. He had already called, so they knew he was okay. The blow just glanced the side of his head, but the only thing I saw was blood and lifelessness.”