Look Both Ways Page 6

  She shivered as she recounted that last, fatal blow to her marriage.

  “Then I saw the anger in my father’s eyes when I said Stan had slapped me. He calmly asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted a divorce. He and Mom drove me back to the apartment and Mom helped me pack while Dad listened to Stan slobber on and on about how my job was coming between us and about how much he loved me. After I loaded my things into the van, Dad pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket and stuck the barrel down Stan’s throat.”

  Travis swallowed hard. “Mercy!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Mom and I were both shocked. I didn’t know Dad even owned a gun.” She chuckled. “Of course the biggest shock was on Stanford’s face. I’ll never forget that look.”

  Her smile vanished. “He called every day for weeks, begging me to come home and give our marriage another try. I almost gave in several times, but I couldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened that night, what might happen if he became abusive again. The uncertainty of living in a potentially explosive situation is not my idea of control.”

  “I can’t say I blame you or your father. Any man who would hit a woman deserves to have a gun shoved down his throat. I’m glad you learned to say when, where, and how much. Did your grandmother teach you any other lessons that helped you become the dynamic woman you are?”

  “I wouldn’t use the word dynamic, but I did learn one lesson that has kept me on the straight and narrow. Mama Em was a vibrant woman who became miserable when Parkinson’s slowed her down. She walked slowly, usually with a cane, but she continued her daily walks. Daddy was afraid she’d fall. He told me to go with her and I always did, except on the day after my twelfth birthday. I was listening to my new stereo and let her go out alone.”

  She bowed her head. “I intended to follow, but got too caught up in having fun. When darkness came and she wasn’t back, I took my little brother and walked around the block at least ten times without finding her. I can’t tell you how scared I was.”

  “That she was hurt or that you’d get in trouble for letting her go out alone?”

  “Both. I was afraid she was hurt and couldn’t get home or that someone had harmed her. My imagination ran wild. I remembered a shortcut through this vacant lot and dragged my brother, screaming and yelling, into an overgrown mess between two buildings. We found her, frightened but otherwise unharmed.” Her eyes moistened. “She was lucid most of the time, but the onset of senility played havoc with her mind. It saddened me to see her physically and mentally deteriorate.

  “I told my dad about it right away, and that became another prelude to one of his many parables. He said ‘Mama was close to home but the unfamiliar passage, the change in directions turned her around, confused her, and she couldn’t find her way.’ I thought of that, and still think of it, whenever I’m tempted to take an unfamiliar route.”

  She looked at his bowed head. “Did I put you to sleep?”

  “No, you didn’t put me to sleep. I was just thinking of what you said. That was a nice story. Very profound.”

  His smile was sweet and his eyes hazy. “I wish I had that wisdom to guide me when I was young. I can think of several wrong turns in my life. In some ways, I’m still trying to find my way back home. I’ll have to remember that story for my kids.”

  “I’m not sure how effective it will be for them. It works for me because I can still see Mama Em’s face, walking in circles, so close to home and yet so lost.”

  He smiled, and this time his smile was for her. “You’re a very nice person, Susan Cross. There’s real warmth in your soul.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Just a little. Your work face sometimes appears a little cold and ruthless, but I suppose that’s the way it has to be.”

  She saw herself through his eyes and flinched. “What you see on my face is caution, not frost. I’m as nice as I’m allowed to be. I didn’t make the rules, but I am determined to control my life enough to be able to dodge the crap as it goes flying by. As hard as I try, I still sometimes fall short and need a soft place to land just like everyone else. The one thing I can tell you is that I believe in keeping it real. I’m cautious, and I’m not a hypocrite.”

  They finished dinner and arrived in time to take the last two available seats at the Café Rio. She enjoyed the music and when the band took a break, Travis told her how nice it was to sit next to a beautiful woman who was also a great listener. He drove her home, and held her hand when they crossed the street to her building. She thanked him at her door.

  “I really enjoyed the evening. I’ve never been so alone before,” she admitted. “Thanks for spending the evening with me.”

  She showered and dressed for bed. The evening had been relaxing. She felt less stressed than at any time since arriving in Houston. Travis was a nice man, and she was happy to have found another friend. Sleep came easy, and with it dreams of closeness and total fulfillment. Strong arms held her close. Adoring eyes bore into her soul. She relented to passion that took away her breath. His mouth devoured hers and traveled down her body. Awakening. Igniting.

  It was not a dream but a trance where she was lost in the glory of his being. She lay in his arms, enthralled just as she had been when he first walked into her office. There was no animosity between them, only fire. She whispered and then screamed his name. Awakened by the sound of her own voice and the fetching smile of Rev. Willard Cartwright in her head, she clutched a pillow against her body and sighed.

  * * *

  The Monday morning management meeting provided Susan with an opportunity to question the policies she felt were too lax and to give opinions when they were sought. She gladly shared her knowledge, including her views on the need for a unified operation. She watched Price’s face contort with disagreement.

  “I understand that departments here are fairly independent and segregated. This poses a problem for me. We’re a team here at Sealand, and being a cohesive group is the only way to remain tops in our field. ”

  Price hurled several questions her way, and she responded while thinking that, like Angie, her knowledge was underestimated. She responded with thorough explanations, and Travis watched her with a proud smile.

  When Price asked about Cedargrove Heights, she thought before answering. “They have made serious allegations that I hope we can disprove. If not, the parties responsible will have to face the consequences. If Sealand falls, we all go with it. Another reason to remain unified.”

  Her usually sharp answers became ambiguous and Price began to squirm.

  Several employees praised her viewpoints and Susan thanked them, all the while knowing Price would attempt to undermine her whenever possible. She would just have to work around him. She and Angie continued combing through loan files for properties in Cedargrove Heights and comparisons, and Susan scanned the papers for stories, anything she could find, on Rev. Willard Cartwright. When she found an article showing him attending a rally to protest capital punishment, she clipped the picture and kept it in her briefcase. It was not a good likeness, but she didn’t need one. His face was indelibly etched in her mind.

  She and Travis attended a late-evening ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new branch office, and afterwards, Travis invited her to a dinner. They went to a soul food restaurant that happened to be in Cedargrove Heights. Susan decided to involve Travis in her new project.

  “A business acquaintance informed me of an opportunity to increase Sealand’s loan portfolio. Winning a bid to share in a large federal housing development will place Sealand in competition with other lenders for a sizable loan commitment. I’m especially interested because the project is aimed at low-income and first-time homebuyers. It might be a purposeful endeavor for this area. What do you think?”

  “Are you concerned about this area because of Rev. Cartwright’s accusations?”

  “Yes and no. No, because I’m not intimidated by his accusations, and yes, because he brought Cedargrove Heights to my attention.
Why are you asking?”

  “I know he’s been in to see you, but I didn’t know why until Price brought it up at the meeting. He’s always begging on behalf of those people who never make payments on time. Maybe if they dropped a little less in his collection plate, they could pay their bills. Did he question one of my appraisals again?”

  His defensiveness came as a surprise, but she had no intention of revealing what she had learned.

  “What do you mean—again?”

  “Price told me Cartwright had questioned the value I put on a property out there. A foreclosure. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m good at what I do. I have every designation the state offers for appraisers, and I take my job very seriously. I also know I have a reputation for being Price’s boy, and that’s a damn lie. Yes, I’m grateful to him for bringing me to Sealand. Having a set salary each month is better than working extremely hard and still not making as much money. But I’m my own man.”

  She shrugged. “I just arrived, remember? That makes me a minority in more ways than two. Everyone here knows more about this situation than I do. I shouldn’t have mentioned work tonight, so let’s forget it.”

  “I don’t mind talking about it. I liked your speech about being a more cohesive group, but that’s never been the policy. On more than one occasion, Price has directed us to keep mum about certain things in our area. Since I have no desire to stir the fire, I’ve stayed pretty much to myself. I don’t know much about anything other than my own area, but I do know Price is as self-serving as they come. I say that without reservations.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, Rev. Cartwright did not question your appraisal, at least not to me.” She had looked forward to a relaxing evening and regretted mentioning Sealand, especially after Travis continued justifying the quality of his work.

  “It’s hard to explain to people that the house they purchased four years ago isn’t worth half of what they paid for it because two neighboring properties were foreclosed. Values are much better than they were in the eighties; they’ve increased from the nineties, but there are still some soft spots. I don’t control the economy. Even the government can’t seem to do that.”

  It was the cue she had been waiting for. “Speaking of government, tell me something about our mayor. He seems to have his arms around most of the city’s problems and as large as this place is, that has to be an armful. Crime. Traffic. Unemployment. Schools.”

  The conversation turned from one generating defensive heat to one focusing on citywide social and political problems. Nevertheless, though Travis was no longer edgy, he remained argumentative and cynical. Susan did not challenge what she felt was a limited outlook on life, but hoped he would regain his composure and relax. She had already determined that he was intelligent and insightful, but each negative opinion made her realize that he was trapped by self-imposed restrictive views. He grew even more agitated. She smiled and nodded at most of his observations and answered his questions without passing judgment.

  Wishing she had met him at the branch office rather than riding with him, Susan’s concern grew during the drive back to her apartment. His speech was slurred and he walked the short distance from the parking lot to her building with difficulty.

  “Come in and have a cup of coffee. I’ll make decaf or tea if you prefer.”

  “Regular coffee is fine.” He followed her to the kitchen, constantly complaining about the rigors of his job and not being able to see his children on a regular basis.

  Susan didn’t dare end the evening until she felt he was sober enough to drive. She listened patiently, but kept her comments to a minimum. He appeared somewhat steadier after a second cup of coffee and a slice of homemade pumpkin bread.

  “Tell me something,” he said, perching on a stool at the counter. “What do you want out of life? I mean, you can’t go much higher with Sealand, so what are your goals? Do you want to marry again? Do you want children?”

  “I can see marriage and children in my future, and I am planning to work on a law degree, but I have everything I want for now.”

  “I want to marry again. I’m seeing someone…not exclusively or anything like that. I like her a lot, but she keeps talking marriage and I’m not in love with her. She’s very nice but…no sparks. Is that a bad thing to say?”

  “Not if it’s how you feel. Just listen to your heart.”

  He continued talking and she offered neither praise nor criticism, just an occasional smile. She fully expected him to fall asleep on the sofa, but after walking around the apartment and drinking another cup of coffee, he became alert and his mood lightened. She was greatly relieved when he picked up his coat and walked steadily to the door.

  Alone with her cat, she thought about Travis’s take on love and marriage. She wanted love, and her need to feel the rapture of a man’s arms was becoming increasingly painful. She wanted and needed a man. Only one came to mind. She took the news clipping from her briefcase and stared at his likeness. Every feature on his face was prominently handsome, but his lips were the most inviting she had ever seen. She remembered the touch of his hand and the excitement it had sparked.

  “Susan, Susan, Susan.” She tucked the photo inside the book she was trying to read. “I can’t let any man get to me this way.”

  She stroked Dino’s head and listened to him purr. She was facing a professional challenge and a personal moment of truth. In her heart, she knew exactly what she had to do.

  “It is a big city. I think we can both live in it without stepping on each other’s toes.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Susan spent her weekend reviewing files. On Sunday evening she left an answering machine message for the head of Sealand’s legal staff and called Angie.

  “I’ve seen enough. The main topic for tomorrow’s meeting is Cedargrove Heights, and I want you to be there.”

  Susan was the first one in the boardroom on Monday morning. Her mind was filled with countless and alarming thoughts that made the soft leather chair at the head of the table a very uncomfortable place to sit. Only her ability to reflect backwards and project ahead eased her panic, so she revisited some of the commendations she had received since joining the Sealand group.

  Sealand’s office on the west side of Canton was one of the smallest in the lending chain, and any visit from Waylon Deeds invariably sparked speculation. As soon as he arrived early one Wednesday morning, the rumors had begun. He was in town either to promote or dismiss. Susan paid little attention, though she did wonder why he constantly called her to ask for explanations and opinions that seemed outside the realm of her authority. His “how would you handle…” ended at three o’clock on Friday when he called and asked her to join him in the boardroom. Fighting rising annoyance, she tapped soundly on the closed door and waited to be invited in. The entire board of directors, including Tom Waverly, smiled at her.

  “Have a seat, Miss Cross,” Mr. Deeds said, nodding to the empty chair across from his.

  She felt her throat closing.

  “I’ve been a constant harassment to you the last few days, Miss Cross, and I apologize,” Mr. Deeds said.

  “It was no trouble at all,” she said, feeling as if he had read her mind.

  “It was, but with good reason.” He looked around the room. “This company is growing like wildfire, Miss Cross. Sealand is now making mortgage loans in twenty-six states, and we hope to add the other twenty-four. With this rapid growth, there’s been no time, and no person, to ensure uniform standards in our branches. We’ve got one office down in Louisiana, for example, that financed sixty-eight homes, packaged the loans, and tried to sell them to an investor without realizing they were prefab homes. We can’t have that kind of thing.”

  Mr. Waverly nodded in agreement. Susan’s hands were damp and her throat felt parched.

  “We’d like you to head Sealand’s loan production team, Miss Cross. You’d report to me, but everyone here will be at your disposal if need arises. You’ll mak
e periodic visits to all branch cities for quality control purposes and make changes at your discretion.”

  Susan remembered that as a magical moment in her life, and the most memorable in her career. Her father was right. She had been a good student, even in graduate school. When Mr. Deeds had pushed a legal pad across the table showing her proposed salary as head of lending, she had seen concrete evidence that her studies had paid off. Managing a small production office had been effortless. This was her first major challenge, and she would not allow the treachery of others to shorten her stride.

  Price walked in the door and her mind was made up. It was possible that Mr. Deeds had learned of Price’s unscrupulous practices, feared retaliation, and had sent her in to remedy the situation. Or maybe as a scapegoat? Looking at his deceptive smile, she silently vowed to personally expose him and avenge the citizens of Cedargrove, even though the results could prove painful.

  She opened the meeting and introduced the newcomers.

  “I’m sure most of you know Angie Edwards from loan servicing, and this is Perry Trask, head of our legal department. As some of you know, the lending practices of Sealand have come under scrutiny by a group of citizens from Cedargrove Heights. Rev. Willard Cartwright and several others met with me and claimed applicants were denied loans with Sealand because they wanted to purchase homes in that particular neighborhood. I attempted to pacify them with contrasting figures, but that didn’t suffice, as I was told in a follow-up meeting with Rev. Cartwright. I asked Perry to join us today because I’m afraid this matter isn’t going away. Since the loan denials were made before my arrival, I’d like Price to share his knowledge on the subject.”