Nothing But Trouble (5 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: Nothing But Trouble
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Chapter 5
D
ana ran a comb through her short hair. She'd had it touched up and cut at a beauty school for seventeen dollars, and they hadn't done a half bad job.
She had dressed casually in a pale yellow pantsuit and paisley print short-sleeved blouse, her completed loan application and business plan tucked into a pocket of her butterscotch-colored leather portfolio.
Funny how kids could remind adults of the facts. Brittany's friend Vanessa was the one who gave her the idea to come here in the first place. Dana had been at the dining-room table poring over the figures Pat Fairfield provided her, as well as her own financial picture, trying to assemble it all into something impressive, when Vanessa, who was spending the night with Brittany, asked what she was doing.
“I'm trying to expand the business I run,” Dana told her. “But it isn't easy. Expansion takes money.”
“If you need money you should call my Popi. He runs a bank.”
Dana remembered then that Vanessa's father, Gil, managed a branch of the bank where she kept her money. She'd forgotten all about that. She'd rarely seen Gil since he and Vanessa's mother Irene separated over a year ago and he rented out an apartment at the beach.
When she reached the bank, Dana gave her name to the receptionist, then sat on a striped sofa and waited. She'd barely had time to read an interesting-looking recipe for a beef stirfry in one of the reception area magazines when the receptionist said, “Mrs. Covington, Mr. Albacete will see you now. It's the last office on the right.”
“Thank you.” Dana turned and carefully tore out the page with the recipe on it, then folded it and tucked it into her portfolio. She mentally defended her defacing of the bank's magazine by reasoning that it was an old publication and she could no longer buy it.
“Gil, thanks so much for seeing me,” she said as she entered a large office with impressive dark wood furnishings. Sunlight from two windows behind his desk kept the room from appearing too somber.
He rose. “How are you, Dana?”
“I'm good, thanks.” She held out her hand, which he took, but he quickly moved in to give her a quick, impersonal hug. She breathed in his cologne and momentarily closed her eyes. There was nothing better than a man who smelled as good as he looked, and Gil Albacete, in his navy suit; snazzy blue, rust, and white tie; and matching silk hankie, looked damn good. She wondered what had gone wrong between him and Irene. They'd made such a handsome couple, he with his sexy green eyes and sandy brown hair, and she with her olive complexion and thick, curly dark hair. She knew their marriage was in trouble from comments Brittany made after spending time with Vanessa: “Mom, Mr. Albacete was out real late last night,” or “Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Albacete had a big argument before she brought me home.”
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the two armless chairs facing his desk.
She complied, placing her purse at her side and her portfolio in her lap. “I know I should have gone directly to a loan officer, but I thought it wouldn't hurt if I saw you first.”
He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his green eyes fixated on her. “Why don't you tell me what it is you're trying to accomplish?”
God, he was handsome. She'd never seen him dressed for work. But that was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. She'd better snap out of it. “I have an opportunity to purchase an existing medical-transcription service, and I've already lined up a new client who wants us to handle their transcriptions effective May first. I have two partners, and we're each putting in eight thousand dollars. But both my partners can write checks for that amount. I can't.”
“You have a savings account here, don't you?”
“Yes. We moved all our banking here when we got the mortgage for the house we—I live in now. But I don't want to touch my savings. It's bad enough that I haven't been able to add a penny to it since Kenny's accident.” After ten months she still referred to Kenny's tragic demise as his “accident.” “I've put something together with estimates of anticipated billing for the new client, plus copies of invoices from the existing service.” She pulled the report from her portfolio and passed it to him.
Gil perused the report, the only sound in the room soft music from the local jazz station on the radio. For Dana, the song seemed to go on eternally.
“I'm going to need some time to go over this,” he finally said. “But eight thousand dollars isn't a large amount of money, especially for a depositor who has respectable savings and a mortgage with us. If you wanted to buy a car you'd need more money than that. The issue is, of course, the risk. A car can be taken back in the case of default. But a business without expensive assets is something else.”
Dana leaned forward anxiously. “How long do you suppose it will take for an answer? We have a lot to do if we're to go live May first.”
“Give me until close of business tomorrow. But while I have you here I need some more information from you.”
“I have my completed application here.”
“That's a start.”
At his request Dana gave him her Social Security and account numbers. The fingers of her right hand nervously drummed the fabric-covered arm of her chair.
Gil looked up and smiled. “Try not to be nervous, Dana. I'm sure it'll all work out.”
Dana wished she had a hundred dollars for each time someone had said that to her in the last month. The cut to her hand required her to use her nest egg for an entire month's expenses, which made her financial situation even more perilous. “I have to do this, Gil. Kenny was the main wage earner between us, and I won't be able to sustain a two-income lifestyle on one income indefinitely. I have maybe until the end of the year.” She stopped and took a deep breath, aware of the urgency in her voice. “I don't want to sound undignified,” she said calmly, “but it's important you understand just how imperative this is. We plan to use subcontractors to do the transcription. One of my partners will work for the company full time, and two of us will devote part-time hours to transcription because we still need to work full-time.” She looked at him pleadingly. “I'm doing everything I can to maintain Brittany's quality of life, or at least keep the changes to a minimum.”
“How is Brittany, Dana?” he asked gently.
She smiled, knowing he was trying to get her mind off of her troubles. Funny. The last ten months hadn't brought many changes for her friends, other than the fact that they got along a lot better these days. Norell was still trying to get pregnant, and Cécile, although she'd managed to lose a little weight, was still trying to get Michael to spring for a larger house. On the other hand, Gil and Irene had gone from being separated to being divorced. “She's twelve, and is blossoming into a lovely young woman. As is Vanessa,” she added.
Now it was Gil's turn to grin. He turned the brass frame photograph on his desk around, allowing Dana to see his daughter beaming for the camera, her chin resting on her hand in an obvious photographer-suggested pose. “She is, isn't she?”
Dana reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “If you don't need anything else, Gil, I guess I'll be going.” She stood, and so did he, coming from around his desk to walk her to his office door. He stood only about five-nine, but he'd been blessed with everything else. Besides, not being a six footer certainly hadn't prevented Tom Cruise from being the object of many a woman's fantasy.
“I'll run your credit, take a thorough look at your expected billables, and make my recommendation to the loan officer,” he said. “And I promise to have an answer for you by tomorrow, so try not to toss and turn tonight.”
“I won't.” She held out her hand, and he grasped it and shook it firmly, his other hand on her shoulder.
 
 
Dana anticipated lying awake long into the night, worrying about the outcome of her loan application, but she was so emotionally worn out that she fell asleep within minutes.
The next day, she was in the car, delivering reports and returning tapes to her clients, when her cell phone rang. Dana regularly forwarded her office line to her cell so she wouldn't miss any potential calls from Brittany's school or from her clients. “Dana Covington,” she said in greeting.
“Good news, Dana,” a man's voice greeted cheerfully. “Your loan's been approved.”
“Gil?”
“Yes. Sorry, I should have identified myself.”
She laughed. “No, you did it fine. You told me the main thing I wanted to hear first. When can I pick up the check?”
“Tomorrow, any time after twelve noon.”
“I wasn't expecting to hear from you until this afternoon.”
“I always say it'll take longer than I expect it to. That way I'm always making people happy.”
“You've certainly made
me
happy. Thank you so much, Gil.”
“You don't have to thank me. If you didn't qualify, I couldn't have helped you. It's true that the savings account you opened after Kenny died has a declining balance, but your checking account is stable, and your credit was fine.”
“I'm so happy,” she said in a choked voice. “Where do I go tomorrow, the loan department?”
“Yes. They'll have the papers all drawn up.”
“All right. And Gil, thanks again.”
Dana wiggled her toes in her closed shoes. The world suddenly looked so much prettier. The sky seemed bluer, the clouds looked fluffier, and the grass looked as green as emeralds. She wanted to share her good news, and she was close to Cécile's house. She'd just take a minute to tell Cécile they were officially in business.
Dana pulled up along the curb in front of the Rivers home, just behind a tomato-red Volkswagen bug with its top down. It looked like Cécile had company, certainly out of character for her. Anyone who knew Cécile knew how much she disliked interruptions during her working hours. She applied supreme discipline to her work, but it paid off in the form of an enviably high paycheck every two weeks.
Dana had gotten within a few yards of the front door when it opened and Cécile emerged with a slim, fair-skinned woman.
“Dana!” Cécile exclaimed. “What a nice surprise.”
“I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was in the neighborhood and wanted to share my good news.”
“This must be the day for good news,” the other woman said as Cécile squealed with anticipation. “I was just offered the job I interviewed for last week.” She held out her hand. “I'm Micheline Mehu, Cécile's sister.”
“I'm Dana.” She shook the French-manicured hand and glanced at Cécile's sister in admiration. Everything about Micheline was polished: Her makeup, her crisp, white long-sleeved blouse, her starched jeans. “I didn't notice the resemblance at first, but now I do,” she said. Micheline stood two or three inches taller than Cécile's five feet, three inches, and her slim build reminded Dana of how Cécile looked in those early days at Precise. Micheline had different coloring—fair skin compared to her sister's rich honey complexion, and tawny gold hair that looked natural but probably wasn't, in contrast to Cécile's black tresses—but they shared the same prominent cheekbones and the same button nose. “Are you living in Jacksonville now?”
“I will as soon as I find a place.”
Dana drew in her breath. Could it be possible that she could be approved for a bank loan and rent out her vacant room on the same day? “I don't know exactly what you're in the market for, but if you'd like to save some rent money I've got a nice, cozy room available. It's above my garage. It's generally described as in-law quarters, except that most elderly people have difficulty climbing stairs. Did Cécile tell you about it?” She glanced at her friend, who shook her head slightly, an unreadable expression on her face.
“No, she sure didn't. But I wouldn't mind renting a room for a month or two while I really get to know the city and decide where I want to live.”
Dana pulled a business card out of her purse. “You can reach me at this number. I'll be there later this afternoon. You can come see it then if you'd like.”
“Great! I'll call you. Bye, Sis.”
“Bye, Micheline. And congratulations.” Cécile took Dana's arm. “Come on in and have lunch with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was just about to have a salad with roast chicken strips, and there's plenty.”
Dana sat at the kitchen table while Cécile assembled the salads. “I suppose you're wondering why I didn't tell you about my sister,” Cécile remarked as she laid banana pepper slices on beds of lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes, and sliced olives.
“Yes, I was curious. You know how desperate I am to rent that room.”

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