Look Both Ways Page 7

  Her words had burned bright crimson paths across his face.

  “I know of no such practices here at Sealand. This whole thing is ridiculous. I hope you’re not agreeing with this man.”

  “Whether I agree or disagree is not pertinent. I was blindsided with this situation my first day in this office, so I was unable to respond to their accusations. I don’t know the weight of their proof, but I don’t think they’re making unsupported claims. You were in full charge of lending at that time, and we need to know if you can refute their accusations.”

  “I was in charge then, but I’m not at this time. Has this already become a legal issue? Is that why Perry is here?”

  Susan turned to the others at the table. “I thought of airing this issue with just those involved, but it occurred to me that we’re all involved. I was the one who said we should be a cohesive group, so as a group, we have a potential lawsuit. As head of this division, I’m charged with defending Sealand against all allegations, and I will. I already have my answers and, just as good defense attorneys represent clients regardless of their guilt or innocence, I will defend Sealand.”

  She stood and leaned across the table. “To answer your question, Price, if this matter goes before a judge, you’ll be the one on the witness stand, not me. I didn’t witness redlining. If I had, there would be different faces at this table. Now, once again, are you certain you can justify the denial of these loans?”

  “Do you know what the foreclosure rate is like in that neighborhood?” Price asked, evading her question. “The only loans we’ve made there and didn’t lose our shirt on were government loans. I don’t think any of those people pay on time.”

  Susan fumed. “Let me advise you of something, Price, and I want Perry to correct me if I’m wrong. If you ever utter words like ‘those people’ in the presence of Rev. Cartwright, you and Sealand will end up in deep doo-doo. The majority of the residents there are African American or Hispanic. I’m keenly aware of the performance of loans made in that area, and I want those facts presented here today.” She nodded at Angie.

  “The delinquency ratio in Cedargrove Heights is currently 52 percent.” Angie gave the breakdown of active loans, those loans in foreclosures, and loans already foreclosed. “Would you like a breakdown on months delinquent?”

  “No, but I will ask that you update these figures daily and keep the numbers handy should we need them. Thank you for compiling this information so quickly.”

  She saw joy on Price’s face.

  “See! It’s a bad investment area. I don’t know why we have to answer to that man. Any fool would think twice before approving a conventional loan in an area that’s already ridden with foreclosures. It has nothing to do with race. This falls under the heading of making shrewd business decisions.”

  “The fact that this area has a lot of poorly performing loans doesn’t give you or anyone else the right to redline it, Price,” Perry said, drumming his pen on the desktop. “The issue at hand is one of geographical discrimination. There are people just waiting to haul us on the carpet for discriminatory lending practices.”

  “If you look at the numbers—”

  “If you look at the numbers, why not look at the 40-plus percent that are current?” Perry interrupted. “In defense of your position, you’ve just verbally incriminated this whole company. Sealand cannot operate under the policy of making loans in only those areas that appeal to us.”

  “The more pertinent issue is that we, Sealand, made the builder loan for this subdivision,” Susan injected. “If discretionary tactics were needed, then that was the time to employ them. I also have figures from two other subdivisions, neither of which is largely comprised of minority homeowners. Both have delinquencies exceeding those of Cedargrove. In each instance, we have continued to make loans that are largely uninsurable and unmarketable. Sealand owns most of them. Sealand will suffer the losses.” She closed her file and turned back to Price. “Can you explain that?”

  “I don’t know what areas you’re talking about, but some of those loans were made under a commitment that was issued before we knew of these conditions. I would never make a decision that wasn’t good for the company.” His face was now beet red and his eyes ablaze with anger.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Price, I’m not disagreeing with your reasoning,” Susan said in a more relaxed tone. “You know as well as I do that you can’t simply decide, based on negative collection figures, to discontinue lending in one area. The fact that you overlooked even worse delinquencies in other areas will only serve to validate Rev. Cartwright’s contentions. Playing devil’s advocate, if I have this information, I’m sure Rev. Cartwright does, too.”

  “She’s right, Price,” Perry said. “Any first-year law student could win this case. What do you suggest, Susan?”

  “I want every underwriter in this company, branches included, to work overtime and tear these files apart. I want each file re-underwritten and every figure and fact verified.” She turned to Angie. “I have a list of properties that foreclosed in Cedargrove. What I need now is a final disposition on each one, including our loss profile. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but I’ll wait for Rev. Cartwright to make the next move.”

  “Just what do you propose to do? The only way to make these…to make the Cedargrove situation go away is to approve all of the denied loans. Give them what they want. It’s very hard to go back and remember why certain decisions were made,” Price offered, looking around for support from his staff.

  Susan met his stare. “That’s a lame excuse, Price. No one is trusted to remember why decisions were made. A ton of documentation is needed to close each file, whether the loan is approved or denied. If that file was properly closed, everything pertinent to your decisions should be there.”

  Susan then presented information on her proposal for the low-income housing commitment, and praised one of the branches for exceptional originations, both in number and quality. As the meeting was ending, a fire alarm sounded and everyone was asked to vacate the building. Fire trucks wailed and employees scampered down the stairs. Passing through the police barricade, Susan learned that a vehicle was burning in the garage and building management was taking the necessary safety precautions.

  “Swell!” There had been little time to spend on stripping the Cedargrove files, and she wanted very much to finish. Leaving with as much work as she could stuff into her briefcase, she stopped at the gas station closest to her apartment and began filling her tank. She looked up when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Thinking it was a co-worker who had also been evacuated, she turned, smiling, right into the face of Rev. Willard Cartwright Jr. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the nozzle from the tank, spilling gas on her shoes and his.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Cross. I recognized you standing here and spoke, but I realized you couldn’t hear me over the traffic noise,” he said, flashing his magical smile.

  “Hello, Rev. Cartwright. I was just filling up on the way home. We had a car fire in the parking garage at work, and they evacuated the building. I didn’t want to leave a stack of work on my desk, but I had no choice.” She felt her heart lurch and actually looked down to see if it was visible through her blouse. Aware that she was babbling, she replaced the gas nozzle and waited for him to speak.

  “He does work in mysterious ways.” His voice was soft and reverent.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind. I’m delighted to see you, Miss Cross. I’m not at all pleased with how our last meeting ended. I know you’re new to this area. I wanted very much to meet on neutral territory and begin our relationship on a better note.” He smiled and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Willard Cartwright.”

  She smiled back. “I also want to apologize for any offensive remarks I may have made, Rev. Cartwright. Can you forgive me?” She accepted his outstretched hand.

  “That would be my pleasure, and please call me Will unless we’re in the presence of my father. T
hen he’s Will and I’m Willie. Or sometimes when they forget I’m an adult, Willie Joe. May I call you Susan, or do you prefer Sue?”

  “Susan. I hate Sue.” She grinned. “Willie Joe, huh?”

  “My middle name is Joseph,” he revealed, still smiling. “So you have an unexpected evening off. Any plans?”

  “My only plan is to complete as much work as possible, and maybe drive around the neighborhood. I’m trying to learn my way around the city without getting lost, so I venture a little farther away from my apartment each time I have a chance to roam the neighborhood.”

  “I’m sure any new city would pose a problem, but Houston is large and sprawling. It’s also grown so rapidly that I get turned around myself, and I’m a native.” His smile softened as he looked into her eyes.

  “We’re having our annual Women’s Day celebration at the church on Saturday. It’s a fashion show and luncheon to raise money for our youth camp. I would be honored if you would join my table as my guest.”

  Breathing became difficult. “I would love to attend,” she said. “As a single man you must dread these events.”

  “I dread a lot of the social events where my presence is pretty much demanded. Let’s just say I do an awful lot in the name of the Lord.”

  He had the kindest eyes she had ever seen.

  “What time does it start?”

  “I’ll pick you up at eleven, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. Let me give you the address. It’s right around the corner…the red brick building on the left.” Pointing in the direction of her apartment building, she felt her hand shaking.

  He said good-bye and she watched him stride to the other side of the gas pumps and to his car. She hurried to her building and burst into the apartment with such excitement, Dino went into hiding under the sofa. She went straight to the telephone and dialed her parents’ number, praying that at least one parent was home. This was truly a new beginning, and she wanted to share her joy.

  “Mom, it’s me. Hi. Is everyone okay? How’s the weather? I’m sure it’s cooler than here, but so are the bowels of hell. Bobby and Charles okay? What about Dad? Did he have his check-up yet?”

  “We’re fine, honey. We’re all fine. It’s obvious something is wrong, so please calm down and tell me before my imagination goes to extremes.”

  “I am excited, and that in itself may be wrong, I’m not sure. Mom, I met this man. The most fascinating man I’ve ever seen. Handsome, tall, broad shoulders, large dark eyes, chocolate skin that made me salivate, and the most charming smile you could imagine. Mom, he’s a minister. Rev. Willard Cartwright Jr.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you dating a minister. I’ve had to threaten to scrub your mouth with soap…did you say Willard Cartwright?” Tammy suddenly asked.

  “Yes, have you heard of him? It wouldn’t surprise me if you had. He’s the most wonderful man, Mom. I didn’t like him at first. In fact, I hated him. At least I think I did. He’s the one who came in my first day here and pelted me with questions and innuendoes about redlining. I was so angry I wanted to call security. You know it takes a lot to make me lose control, but this man did it. Twice.”

  “Susan, slow down. How old is this man?”

  “I don’t know how old he is. I would say mid to late thirties. Mom, he’s a minister! Rev. Willard Cartwright.” She repeated the name as if it, too, was magical.

  Her mother laughed. “For you to be this excited, Rev. Cartwright must be magnificent. I knew of a Rev. Willard Cartwright a long time ago, but he’s in his early sixties now. This man is probably his son. The Rev. Cartwright I’m referring to crusaded for civil rights there in Houston and was in a group of young seminary students that marched in Washington with Dr. King. I vaguely remember his face, but I do recall it was a handsome one. And this is the man who upset you?”

  “Yeah. Well, he accused Sealand of redlining a particular area. That’s where—”

  “I know what redlining is,” her mother interrupted. “This must be the son of the Willard Cartwright I once knew. He was always marching, boycotting, raising Cain about one cause or another. I thought he would run for public office, but I assume his career in the ministry has been amply rewarding.”

  “I was told that the senior Rev. Cartwright was, and still is, a crusader, and so is his son. He was downright rude when he came to my office and I soon joined him. Mom, the whole incident was like something from another galaxy. I looked into his face and became totally paralyzed. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No man has ever made me feel that way. The second time we talked was even worse. For the first time in my life, I had to search for words.”

  “Those sure don’t sound like reasons to be excited.”

  “It’s not that. I just saw him again, at the gas station. I’m at my apartment now. There was a fire in the parking garage and we were evacuated. On the way home I stopped for gas and he walked up and tapped me on the shoulder. Mom, I have never felt like this about anyone.” She saw Dino peeping around the sofa and lowered her voice. “Not Stan, not anyone.”

  “If he’s like his father, I can understand. Does he have the same deep voice? That’s what I remember most.”

  “Yes! That got to me almost as much as his smile. Mom, he just invited me to his church fashion show on Saturday. I am so frightened.”

  “Frightened? Why frightened?”

  “He’s a minister, Mom, and as you just said, I have a potty mouth. I’m sure I’ll say something to make him think I’m an immoral heathen. I’m already ashamed of the feelings I have for him. I…it’s inexplicable. I just wanted to jump in his arms and stay there for the rest of my life. I shouldn’t have those thoughts about a minister.”

  “Honey, he’s not the Pope. You’re not supposed to see halos when you look at him. He didn’t take a vow of celibacy. You’ll probably have to hold him off with a stick.”

  “That’s the part that bothers me most. I don’t think I could hold him off, and you know how I am about being in control. I totally lost it with this man. I couldn’t look at him straight. My knees were trembling. My hands were wet. That doesn’t happen to me very often.”

  “I can understand why you feel so flustered, but don’t waste your time worrying. He’s a man and you’re a woman. Whatever happens, happens. He’s obviously attracted to you, and in all probability he was just as nervous and as awestruck as you were. You’re a beautiful and very forceful woman.”

  “Well, he did strike up a personal conversation when we first met. He invited me to his church and to their singles’ group meeting, which he chairs. In my anger I’d forgotten about that.”

  Willard Cartwright’s smile danced before her. Words could not convey her sudden attraction to a stranger, and she could not fully explain the raw emotion he stirred within her.

  “I’m glad you’ve found a man who excites you. Just don’t get too carried away. Take it slow and see how much you really like Rev. Willard Cartwright once you get to know him.”

  “You’re right. If I had been a good judge of character, I wouldn’t be divorced. That brings up another point. Before I begin a serious relationship with a man, I’ll have to determine if my marriage failed because of Stan or because of me. I know I should put it behind me, but I’m still riddled with questions and…a little guilt. Maybe I do tend to overwhelm men, though I certainly don’t mean to.”

  “Only weak ones, honey. Stan isn’t a bad person. His insecurities were no match for a strong-willed woman. Your father and I picked up little things that you probably never noticed about Stan, even when you were first married. Things that showed a lack of self-confidence.”

  She listened, thinking she was not afraid of falling in love, just the pain it could bring. One strike had not dulled her longing for a committed relationship. She wanted everything her life could hold, and she wanted it with Willard Cartwright.

  She spoke to her father and found him less than thrilled by news of her new friend. Her mother, on the other
hand, had urged caution but had been encouraging.

  Her father’s advice had been: “Don’t worry about saying the wrong thing in this man’s presence. I’m sure he’s heard everything there is to hear by now.”

  She thanked her father for his advice, hung up and reminded herself to stay away from hot-button issues—first and foremost was Cedargrove Heights.

  Her curiosity was also mounting. What kind of man was Rev. Willard Cartwright Jr.? She envisioned kindness, strength, and gentleness. But could he be a man who could run away with her heart, leaving her stranded in the state of helplessness that she had fought to avoid?

  * * *

  “What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?” Will asked his father.

  “You’re not picking me up because I’m not going to that fashion thing. Not this year. I appreciate what the women go through to put this together, but it’s one big bore for me.”

  “A lot of men are involved this year, and quite a few are modeling in the show.”

  “That’s the other reason I’m not going. I respect and love all of God’s creatures, and I don’t mind men models, but that Sampson boy twisting around like a prancing filly doesn’t do a thing for my bad heart.”

  Will laughed and his mother, who had brought her husband’s dinner in on a tray, joined him.

  “You’ll be there, won’t you, son?”

  “I’ll be there, Mom. In fact, I’m bringing someone. A friend.”

  “Good,” his mother said, looking at his father. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “It’s Susan Cross, the lady from Sealand.” He spoke quickly.

  “Is she pretty?” his mother asked.

  He answered without hesitation. “She’s perfect.”

  * * *

  Saturday morning soon followed a restless Friday night. After trying on every dress in her closet, Susan decided that none was quite right for the occasion.

  “You’re going to a fashion show; you’re not in one,” she chided herself, and finally chose a lightweight navy knit with an asymmetrical gold stripe across the bodice and gold piping on the sleeves.