Look Both Ways (4 page)

She told Barbara about Willie Cartwright. Her friend’s advice was to take it slow.

“You’re in unfamiliar surroundings and maybe you’re just a little lonely. He sounds divine, but don’t move too quickly.”

“I’m not about to jump into anything with this man. It’s just that I’ve never felt this way before, especially for someone I don’t know. It’s a little frightening.”

After her call to Barbara, she polished off the container of leftover Chinese food, snuggled up next to Dino, and fell asleep.

* * *

“I’m sure I’m right,” Willard Cartwright Jr. insisted. “We sent people over there last month just to see what would happen, and the only one approved was the one who applied for a government-insured loan. The other two, one being Dr. Carroll, were denied. Miss Cross is new to this office and may not have been aware of it, but she is now.”

He pulled his chair next to where his father sat on the sofa. He hesitated long enough to remember her toast-brown skin and chestnut brown hair that curved along high cheekbones and feathered around her shoulders. Speaking softly, he continued: “The other thing is…she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“So you think she’s a decoy?” his father asked.

“Could be. She was just transferred to this office, so they may be using her to front their defense, or as a scapegoat. For her sake, I hope that’s not the case.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time some poor unsuspecting woman was sent to squelch these situations. If that is the case, they’ll probably keep her around until things cool off and then she’s history. Make sure you keep in touch with her, because if that happens something should be done. Did she seem knowledgeable?”

“Her capability was very obvious. A great body filled with passionate spirit.” His voice drifted and his eyes were almost closed. His heart had leaped when he saw her standing there. By the time the discussion ended, her anger and his frustration had only increased his attraction to her. He imagined his fingers skimming her face and felt rippling heat through his body. Still daydreaming, he imagined her almond-shaped eyes locking on his with the same intensity they had when he had first walked into her office. Her strong female essence came back with staggering clarity. Will knew that if he never saw Susan Cross again, the face that was seductive even in anger would always be with him.

“She’s very beautiful. And mean as a wet cat.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile. Is this woman someone you might like to date?”

“Why do you ask that?”

Rev. Cartwright Sr. leaned on his son’s shoulder and moved to the wheelchair. “I love my children equally, but I know you best of all. The look on your face when you talk about this woman is one I haven’t seen in a very long time.”

When Will did not answer, Rev. Cartwright reached over and patted his knee. “You’ve made me proud, son. I didn’t expect you to follow in my footsteps, but I’m happy you did. I know your personal life has been filled with turmoil, and I pray that will change. Losing Trey was devastating. Losing Trey’s mother was a blessing in disguise, but I’m sure it hurt.”

“I’m okay with it, Dad. I’ll always love my son.” He smiled. “And I want another one more than anything. When the right woman comes along, I know that will happen.”

“Then you’d better get cracking, Willie Joe. Your mother and I married before construction began on the original Cedargrove Baptist building. The congregation was small and the responsibilities were few, but it was still a handful. You made your accounting firm profitable before you were thirty, and then you inherited a monster of a congregation when I suffered this stroke. The congregation wanted you. My heart swells each time I see you in the pulpit, but you have to think of your personal life. You could have any number of beautiful women, but a goodly number of them would have dollar signs in their eyes. Culling out the worthy ones takes time. If you think this woman at Sealand is so special, don’t you dare let her get away.”

Will helped his father prepare for bed, and assured him that he was coping with the trials of the ministry and with his private life. He drove two blocks to the house that had been home to his wife and son. He called out to the big yellow lab that came bounding around to meet him. Each time he opened the door and walked into the hallway, the terror rushed out to greet him. Time had only slightly diminished the horror of finding his son’s tiny body tangled, lifeless, in the sheet, and finding Tracey, still dressed in party clothes and smelling of booze, snoring on the couch.

Passing the blame had been her defense. He had agreed to stay home with the baby while she attended a bridal shower for her younger sister. When the call came that a member of Cedargrove’s choir had been involved in a fatal accident, he mumbled his regrets and rushed to the hospital. The venom in her voice when he called two hours later was harsher than ever before. She screamed accusations of disinterest and neglect before informing him that she would attend the shower even if she had to take the baby with her. He promised to come home as quickly as possible, but knew there was no way to swiftly console a grieving family. She screamed that his family always came last and she would not wait for his arrival.

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.