Look Both Ways (3 page)

No longer interested in presenting a calm posture, she stood, trembling and legless. Holding onto the table with both hands, she looked into Rev. Cartwright’s enthralling eyes. “Why are you really here? Is this about lending practices, working conditions, or did you just drop by to insult me?”

“We’ve—”

She stopped Rev. Cartwright with a wave of her hand. “You didn’t bother to make an appointment.” She spread her hands and shrugged. “You’ve questioned my authority and my ability. You’ve made allegations of faulty lending practices. And, you want immediate and specific answers. It doesn’t work that way.”

She saw Price walking past her door for the third time.

“The proper sequence of events entails a written complaint or an appointment that will make your concerns known before your arrival. I have no knowledge of the community in question, and I will not disrupt the work schedule of every other employee to satisfy your concerns.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. “If that is not to your liking, please feel free to file any complaint your facts will substantiate, or return when the
real
honcho is in. His name is Waylon Deeds. He is chairman of the board and CFO of Sealand.” She tilted her head in Rev. Cartwright’s direction.

“Miss Cross, please—”

She held up her hand. “I haven’t finished, Rev. Cartwright. Do you know how many loans are originated within this company? I could possibly find Mr. and Mrs. Carter’s file, review it quickly and give you a preliminary answer. But I certainly can’t discuss files for the unnamed people you’re supposed to represent. As for your concerns that everyone receive fair and equitable treatment, I doubt that any of you would have…”

Leaving the thought unfinished, she struggled for calmness and a way to stand firmly on rubber legs. Cartwright’s obtrusive approach was annoying. She abhorred violence, but would have found great satisfaction in slapping his wonderfully arresting face. In the midst of her anger, his image conjured up thoughts that put her dreams to shame. The physical attraction was immediate and amazing.

Rev. Cartwright stood. “Let me apologize again, Miss Cross. You’re correct. We should have made an appointment and allowed you time to research this matter. It was not our intent to blindside you, but I felt certain you would be familiar with Cedargrove Heights, if not this specific problem.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Rev. Cartwright, but I’ve been in this city for seven days, and this is my first day on the job. I’m not familiar with your neighborhood, or even the one in which I reside.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, were you just hired by Sealand?” he asked, sitting.

“No, I’ve been with the company since my junior year in college. I just transferred here from Ohio.”

He nodded. “Again, I wish to apologize for the intrusion. We’ll wait for your response, and I would simply appreciate your reviewing any loan rejections for purchase of properties in Cedargrove for the last thirty days, if that’s not too much trouble. We have substantial proof of our allegation or we never would have bothered you.”

He paused to adjust his fetching smile. “And since you’re new in Houston, let me extend a welcome to our worship service at Cedargrove Baptist Church. We have eight and eleven o’clock services each Sunday, with adult Sunday school classes in between. We also have a great singles’ group, which I chair. We meet in the sanctuary on Wednesdays at six-thirty, and would love to have you join us. Here’s my card if you’re interested.”

The back of his fingers brushed her hand and lingered. She felt a rush of warmth and a deep desire to hold on. In spite of his occupation and the anger he triggered, she could not ignore the obvious. He was as enticing as a snow cone on a blistering afternoon, and almost as cool. His expression changed with the conversation, but his deep voice remained perfectly modulated. He was a minister and a warrior.

“I appreciate the invitation, Rev. Cartwright. I’ll review your concerns and let you know my findings as quickly as possible.”

Mrs. Whitehead lingered behind the others. “I want to apologize if we upset you, Miss Cross. Just seeing you in this position makes me proud. God bless you.”

“Thank you.” As soon as they left, she began assembling pieces of a puzzle that made her blood boil. Looking up, she saw Price walking toward her, his face plastered with victorious smugness.

“I waited for your call.” He leaned across her desk. His eyes again fell on her cleavage. “What did they want?”

“I’ve got it covered, Price. Thanks for standing by
.
”

He left, and she stared at her name on the buff-colored cards.

You know why they were here, you condescending little worm. You may even know why I’m here.

CHAPTER 2

Susan spent the remainder of the afternoon gathering data on loan applications for the past two months, and pulled everything connected to Cedargrove Heights. She compared the number of loans approved to those rejected and reviewed each denial. In the first two files, she found glaring reasons to preclude approval, but the reasons given to the applicants were not only vague, they were largely unsubstantiated.

Comprehension struck.

If this was a set-up, if Sealand planned to use her, and she found that a distinct possibility, she would not accept the blame for Price Bishop’s bias. Like Rev. Cartwright and Deacon Jones, she had to walk on the side of fairness. She had to fight for her dignity and her career. If her promotion had been the company’s saving grace for their faulty lending practices, she would have to prove her worthiness and seek retribution for the families who were wronged.

Taking the street names from one of the files, she reviewed the numbers on all active loans for the area, and those paid in full, foreclosed, or sold. After drafting a summary of her preliminary findings, and not knowing whom to trust, she typed it herself and made an appointment with the head of Sealand’s legal department.

Susan had noticed that Angie Edwards, the collection manager who provided part of the information, was nowhere on the management flowchart. She returned from legal and called out to Price on his next stroll past her door.

“I need several more collection reports. What can you tell me about Angie Edwards?” Not of major concern, but certainly worth noting, was that Angie Edwards was black.

“She hasn’t been here very long.” He fiddled with the buttons on his shirtsleeve. “She replaced Bill Styles when he got a recording contract. He’s a big star now. Ever hear of him?”

She had not, and said so.

“Why are you looking at delinquency reports?” he asked.

She evaded his questions just as he had dodged hers, and added Angie to the mystery she had catalogued in less than a day on the job.

Angie delivered the last of the reports just before five o’clock. Susan thanked her and she started to leave, but turned and stood in the door. With her lower lip firmly clasped between her teeth, she frowned and stared into the hallway.

“Is there a problem, Angie?”

“Yes and no.” She faced Susan. “I was just trying to decide whether to tell you about Cedargrove, or just keep my mouth shut. Like any other company, the politics here can do you in, and I need my job.”

Susan’s interest was piqued. “Did someone ask you not to divulge information about Cedargrove?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I just know a little about this situation, and I know a lot about Rev. Willard Cartwright. He’s a powerful man in this community. His father, a minister and civil rights activist, was slowed by a stroke, but both father and son have the respect of city officials and the news media. You just got here, so I’m sure there are things you don’t know.”

“Angie, if you’d rather not talk about this, I’ll understand. If you’d feel better talking away from the office, I’ll arrange that as well.”

After work, she met Angie in the parking garage and followed her to a little restaurant in the Third Ward, not an area where Sealand’s hierarchy was likely to congregate. Taking a back table in the dimly lit room, Susan sat opposite Angie and studied her features.

A pleasant-looking woman with a hearty laugh and a doubtful eye, Angie was no more than thirty-five and under five feet tall. Her round face became animated when she spoke, and the movement of her eyebrows alone conveyed a forceful message. They ordered a cosmopolitan for Susan and a margarita on the rocks for Angie. Susan asked Angie if she wanted anything from the limited selection on the appetizer menu.

“No, thanks; I can’t stay long. I have to pick up my girls.” She sat erect, as if signaling Susan to begin.

“I appreciate your talking to me. I came into this position with a litany of concerns. If my first day is any indication of what’s to come, I think my concerns are well founded. If there is something I should be aware of, please let me know.”

“I just thought you should know the truth, and I knew you wouldn’t get it from Price Bishop. He’s mad because you got that position instead of him. Anyone loyal to him won’t cooperate with you, but that may be fewer people than he thinks. Mr. Deeds is away most of the time, which puts a lot of decisions in Price’s hands, and that makes him dangerous. He isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but his ego could fill the Grand Canyon.”

She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward.

“Deeds brought you here, so maybe he’s more insightful than I thought. Truth is, Price is inefficient to a fault, but smart enough to hire people to cover his ignorance.”

She stretched and sipped her drink. “The only loans I see are the delinquencies, and that’s how I overheard Price’s comment about Cedargrove. As you probably know, the delinquency ratio is the main concern in servicing. When Price didn’t know I was listening, he cautioned the loan officers to stop making loans in Cedargrove or Sealand would own a ton of ghetto foreclosures and a sucker’s reputation to boot.”

She flexed her eyebrows. “Servicing is the company’s stepchild. The production staff rarely talks to us, but a few days after Price mouthed off in that meeting, word came down the pike that Price had pulled three files from the underwriters. He told them to take their time getting back to the applicants. The properties on those files were all in Cedargrove. Knowing him the way I do, I’m certain he instructed them to deny as many loans as they could.”

“Can you rely on the person who told you this?”

“Actually, she’s the only person up there that I do trust. I talk to Travis Polk, but only when I need an appraisal for foreclosure. He’s Price’s puppet and was the highest ranking black in this office, maybe in the whole company, until you came along. I was glad when you showed up, and I wanted you to know the truth. That’s the reason I’m here.”

“What can you tell me about Rev. Cartwright?” Her interest was only partly related to business.

“Willie Cartwright is one of the few remaining soldiers, sort of in the vein of Martin Luther King Jr. He gives his time and lends his name to a large number of causes, and I don’t mean just those benefiting blacks—if any of our problems can actually be segregated. He chairs a foundation to send financial help to children in Nicaragua, works with the Anti-Defamation League, and is on the board of many civic groups. He is also on the board of the Houston Grand Opera and heavily involved in promoting the arts here in the city. Anything consequential going on in Houston is bound to have his name on the list of sponsors and supporters.”

Susan was already impressed.

“He’s not one to cross, that’s for sure. If there’s something fishy going on in Cedargrove, he’ll find it and make those responsible look like dirt. He has done it many times before, and to people with a lot more weight than Sealand’s production staff.”

“I’m grateful that you decided to talk to me. I’ve already sampled Price’s venom, and I’ve notified legal of the Cedargrove situation.”

“I’d hate to see you leave, and I’m not the only one. Just keep in mind that Willie Cartwright and those people from Cedargrove are not to be taken lightly. I’ve seen him destroy some pretty powerful people.” She shook her head admiringly and smiled. “And he does it with such finesse.”

That part was not hard for Susan to believe. She was still trying to recover from his crushing invasion. “How long have you been with Sealand?”

“Four years. The collection department is usually a stepping-stone to upper management, unless that’s where they choose to stick you.” She smiled. “I got stuck. I started as a collector, went on to collection supervisor, and then on to collection manager. That’s it for me, but I don’t mind. The salary is good and I’m getting great experience. I probably make more than any collection manager in the city. I also maintain a low delinquency ratio and have excellent rapport with every entity that does business with Sealand.”

She sipped her margarita and then made an unexpected offer. “I don’t often get involved in things like this, but I’m willing to make an exception. If you need my help to fight this, I’ll be happy to pitch in.”

Susan outlined her immediate plan, but Angie disagreed with it.

“Price is not going to incriminate himself by allowing his people to state the real reasons for those rejections.”

“I’m not planning to rely on their information. I’ll ask for their assistance, but I know they won’t tell the truth. I’m going to re-underwrite the loans myself. Given the insistent nature of this problem, I don’t know if I’ll have time to finish before I have to provide answers to Cartwright and his people, but I’ll do enough to prove my point.”

“That will do for now, but sooner or later you’ll have to account for every one of those loans. They only mentioned the recent ones, but this has been going on for a long time. If you fail to flag just one, that’ll be the one they throw in your face. You have to review every file, and you will. I’ll help.”

“I wasn’t aware that you—”

“That I could underwrite?” Angie interrupted. “I handle commercial as well as residential delinquencies. I have to determine if the debts were properly underwritten in the first place and went bad, or if they never should have been approved. I can underwrite better than most of those people upstairs, and I have a decided advantage.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “Nobody knows I can underwrite.”

They both laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Angie added, “I’m not a disgruntled employee. I like what I do, and if my last salary increase is any indication, I must do it well. Mr. Deeds was impressed that I’ve reduced the ratio from the second highest in the region to the second lowest. It would be the lowest if we didn’t have areas like Cedargrove, and believe me, that’s not the only area with a high foreclosure rate. I’m good, and I’m industry respected. That’s all that matters. Titles don’t pay the rent.”

They talked much longer than expected. Angie left after repeating her offer to help, and giving Susan directions back to her apartment. This time, Susan felt she really had made a friend.

* * *

The middle child and only daughter of Ralph and Tammy Cross collapsed on the mouse-gray sofa and idly drew patterns in the moisture on her martini glass. Then she felt a need to call home, dialed the phone, and waited. Her mother’s voice had always been a soothing lullaby, and tonight was no exception.

“As first days go, Mom, this was a baptism by fire.” She relayed her suspicions. “I understood the situations surrounding my previous promotions, but this one is different. I would be crazy not to stop and wonder. There were four people that I’m aware of, including the one here, all male and all white, with more tenure. I know I’m good and I’m dedicated, but it’s quite possible that Sealand needed a black face to extinguish the flames over this Cedargrove mess, especially if they knew about Price Bishop’s fishy role.”

“So you think this group is going to continue making trouble for the company?” her mother asked.

“Yes, I do.” Frustration singed her heart when she thought of Willard Cartwright’s handsome face. She wanted to tell her parents about the fascinating minister and the way he had made her feel, but instead she focused on Deacon Jones’s prickly disposition.

“I know how hard some people have worked for equal rights, but you should have heard the way this man came at me. He’s very old. His little face was shriveled like a peach pit, and I really felt his pain, but I’m not the enemy. I wanted to tell them that I’ve worked hard, made sacrifices, and refused to settle for mediocrity. I may not have gotten this position simply on merit, but I am qualified to handle it.”

Her father joined in. “You earned this position, honey. Don’t let anyone make you feel differently. You’ve always been far ahead of the crowd. You made good grades in school, but you read and studied out of school. While your friends were still wading through Judy Blume, you were devouring Tolstoy. You asked for books, not toys, when we went to the shopping center.”

“And I have you to thank for that, Daddy.” The man with the iron fist also had the voice of an angel. She began to feel better.

“And this beautiful woman standing next to me gave you strength and courage. You’ve always been self-assured, sensible, and confident. If this is a setup, I know you’ll handle the situation with your usual proficiency.”

“Your father is right,” Tammy declared. “Remember, honey, for hundreds of years, skin color has barred us from the corporate boardrooms of this country. If that is what got you into this one, you should use it to your advantage. Don’t let anyone make you feel out of place.”

Not wanting to give her parents further cause to worry, she changed both the subject and her tone. “You guys should see this apartment. The name Executive Quarters says it all. The living room is spacious enough to throw a party. The kitchen is small but functional. There’s a breakfast bar with four stools, a dining room, and a half bath with a laundry room in back, all on the first floor. My bedroom, bath, and a small sitting room are on the second floor. And there’s a really nice balcony.”

Keeping it light, she described the ostrich and leather boots she had purchased in a whimsical salute to Texas. And then she told them about the furry little companion lying next to her.

“I went to the Galleria to shop for lightweight suits and this beautiful Himalayan just jumped out of that pet store window and into my heart. I named him Dino and spent a small fortune on gourmet pet food and cat toys.”

After promising she would thread carefully through the confusion at Sealand, she stretched out on the sofa and let her mind drift back to Stanford and the marriage she had thought would last forever. She missed having his arms around her and touching him during the night. She needed the assurance and comfort he brought to her life before their marriage soured.

She shook off the ghosts of regret, checked the time and called Barbara. “I’ve got a question for you. Do you believe in love at first sight?”