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Authors: Richard Paul Evans

Promise Me (22 page)

BOOK: Promise Me
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Outside of shopping, I pretty much hate anything to do with money, and the visit to the bank was even more excruciating than I thought it would be. I didn't understand all the talk about points, HELOCs and adjustable rates. In the end, all I came away with was that I was approved for a $63,000 loan.

As we were finishing the paperwork, Matthew asked, “Do you mind if we make me a cosignatory on the loan? That way you won't have to come down here every time I need to buy supplies.”

“Fine with me,” I said. “I hate this stuff.” I looked at the loan officer. “No offense to you.”

“None taken,” he said. “You'll just need to sign here.”

I signed my name on the line he pointed to.

Matthew asked, “How much do you need to catch up your mortgage?”

“Let's see. It's nine hundred thirty-seven dollars a month, and I'm two months behind.”

“Almost nineteen hundred. Let's take out twenty-eight hundred right now. That will cover you until April when we list the house.”

“That sounds good,” I said.

“Make the check out to Beth Cardall,” Matthew said.

“I'll be just a minute,” the banker said, rising.

I said to Matthew, “Thank you for helping me.”

He smiled. “My pleasure,” he said.

For the first time in weeks the gnawing pain of debt was gone.

We walked out of the bank with a folder full of documents. “This belongs to you,” Matthew said, handing me the packet. “Now where would you like to go to lunch?”

“On a day like this, soup sounds kind of good.”

“There's a great little soup place by my apartment. They have the best split-pea soup.”

“I hate split-pea.”

“That's not all they have,” he said. “It's just what I like.”

The restaurant was not what I expected. It was a small, cluttered dive, though surprisingly popular. I held a table for us while Matthew got our soup—split-pea for him, tomato basil for me—with Diet Cokes and a turkey sandwich to share.

As we were eating, I said, “You said you live around here.”

Matthew nodded. “Just over on the next street.”

“Can I see where you live?”

He looked a little uncomfortable. “It's not much to look at. It's a basement apartment. I moved here without a place to stay so I just took the first place I found.”

“Could we at least drive by?”

“If we must,” he said.

After we finished eating, we climbed into his car and drove by his apartment. I understood why he was hesitant to show me his place. The neighborhood was poor. The homes were unkempt and overgrown and the yards filled with clutter. The house where Matthew rented was old and decrepit, with a broken-down truck in the side yard next to a large stack of rusted pipes. The entry to his apartment was on the side of the house and was entered by a flight of concrete steps covered by a corrugated plastic roof. His BMW looked remarkably out of place in the neighborhood. I was surprised that he would live in such a run-down place.

“I warned you,” he said.

“It's not so bad,” I replied.

“Are you crazy?” he said smiling. “It's a dump. This place makes the landfill look like Central Park.”

“You're right, it's awful. Aren't you afraid to park your car here?”

“A little. Now you know why we meet at your place. But don't worry. I'm going to be moving soon. I'm about to close a big deal.”

“You're working again?”

“I never really stopped. I've always got my fingers in a few deals. This is the big one I've been waiting for.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Believe me, it's a big one. Best of all, it's a sure bet.”

I had no idea that his sure bet somehow involved me.

Only fools and children believe that covering your eyes makes the monsters go away.

Beth Cardall's Diary

It snowed through the night, enough to bring out the snowplows, and I woke to the sound of a plow's metal blade scraping down our street. As much as I wanted to sleep in, I got up and dressed. Then I got Charlotte dressed and ready for the day.

In light of my financial crisis I had asked Roxanne to schedule me on Saturdays to bring in a little extra cash. My neighbor, Margaret, offered to save me child-care expenses by inviting Charlotte over to play with Katie for the day.

Even though Prompt didn't clean or press clothing on weekends, Saturday mornings were still the busiest day of the week with pickups and drop-offs. Predictably we were swamped, and our small lobby was crowded to capacity, with more customers waiting outside the doors, their arms full of clothing. I was busy ringing up an order when Roxanne answered the phone. She shouted to me over the din. “Beth, it's your neighbor.”

“She's got Charlotte. Tell her I'll be right there.” I hurriedly finished the transaction I was working on, then grabbed the phone from the counter. “Margaret?”

“Hi, Beth. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.” Her voice was tense.

“Is Charlotte all right?”

“She's fine. She and Katie are in the backyard making a snowman. I called for another reason. My husband George just called from work. Did you know he works at Zions Bank?”

I wondered what this could possibly have to do with me and if it could wait. “No, I didn't.”

“He's the manager at the Holladay Branch. A transaction came across his desk yesterday afternoon that he's a little concerned about.”

“A transaction?”

“It's in your name. How well do you know Matthew Principato?”

The way she asked made me nervous. “Pretty well. Why?”

“I don't mean to alarm you, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation, I just felt I should check with you to be sure. Did you know that Matthew took a loan out against your house?”

I breathed out in relief. “Oh, yes. I know. He's helping me make some home improvements, so I put him on the account so he could take money out when he needed it.”

“That's what George said. I know this is very personal, but do you mind me asking how much he was supposed to take out?”

“Well, I think he said it would be about three or four thousand dollars. And we took some out at the bank as well. But he wasn't going to take it all at once.”

“Oh, no,” Margaret said.

“Is there a problem?”

“Beth, he's taken a lot more than that.”

“How much more?”

“He took more than sixty thousand.”

My chest constricted. “What?”

“George said he maxed out the home-equity loan.”

“Why didn't he stop him?”

“I'm sorry. George didn't handle the transaction, but he said it was perfectly legal, Matthew was on the account.”

I felt as if someone had just slugged me in the gut. “I've got to go.”

Margaret sensed my panic. “I'm sorry. Maybe there's an explanation.”

“I'm sure there is,” I said angrily. “He wanted my money. Thank you for calling.”

As I hung up the phone, Roxanne stared at me. “Hey, what's wrong, hon? What happened?”

I just looked at her, breathless.

“Teresa,” Roxanne said. “Cover for us.”

Teresa looked at her incredulously. “There's like, a million people.”

“Deal with it.” Roxanne walked me back to the break room. She pulled a chair out at the table and sat me in it. That's when I completely melted down.

“Honey, tell me what happened. Is it Matthew?”

“What have I done?”

“He broke up with you?”

I wiped my face. “He stole my home.”

“What?”

“It was a setup. He never loved me. He was playing me all along.”

“I don't believe that. Tell me what happened.”

“He offered to remodel my basement, so yesterday we set up a loan and I gave him access to my account so he could take money out for materials. He took every penny. Sixty-three thousand dollars.” I almost hyperventilated saying it.

Roxanne gasped. “Oh, honey.”

“I'm such an idiot. He's one of those guys you read about who preys on desperate, gullible women. He steals their life savings, then disappears. How could I have been so stupid?”

“How could you know? We were all enchanted by him. Anyone could have made that mistake. Can you find him?”

“I know where he lives.”

“Go. Teresa and I will cover for you. I'll call Jan and have her pick up Charlotte. She can spend the night at our place.”

“Thank you.” I leaned into Roxanne and broke down again. She patted my back. “There, there, honey. Maybe it's not what it seems.”

“What else could it be?”

She groaned. “Oh, baby.”

“I wanted it to be good. I wanted to be loved by someone.”

“It's my fault,” Roxanne said, “I wanted it for you. I pushed you into it.”

“It's not your fault. It's what I really wanted. I wanted it so bad I closed my eyes.”

I was nearly hysterical and blind with tears as I drove from the cleaners to his apartment. I was fortunate that chance had taken me there just a few days earlier, as up to that point I had no way to contact him. My mind replayed our last conversation. Is this what he meant by the “big deal—sure thing” he was about to close? He had played me like a Stradivarius.

BOOK: Promise Me
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