She was just another job to Jeffrey Tanner, just another account someone defaulted on, just another automobile someone couldn’t afford to pay for, until that day she limped into his office.
She was not someone you would expect to make a difference in anyone’s life. She was neither rich nor powerful. She was not vivacious, not young, not beautiful. She was neither a mover nor a shaker. She hobbled along, a quad cane in one hand, dragging her withered frame behind her, arthritis-infested joints creaking with each lumbering step. She reeked of old perfume; a small, black toque sat atop her thinning, black hair, probably dyed; and when she opened her mouth, from her shriveled face screeched a voice like that of the Wicked Witch of the West.
“I’m Mrs. Mildred Kramer.”
Jeffrey knew the name. He had handled the account personally. For a fleeting moment, he thought of offering her a seat. But then he thought the better of it. She was going to ask for an extension on her loan, and he didn’t want to start by being too friendly, because he needed to get himself into a hard-ass mood.
Instead, he said, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Kramer?”
“I’m here to talk about my car.”
“Well, what sort of car were you interested in?” Play dumb. Make her do all the work.
Instead of answering, she staggered to his guest chair and collapsed into it.
“My son and I bought a car here,” she said, “and you handled the loan.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Jeffrey answered. “Let me look it up.” He punched some keys on his computer keyboard. “Awful nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to defuse the situation with small talk.
She eyed him carefully. “I believe we had weather like this in 1982.” Her voice filled with an air of authority mixed with sarcasm, a haughty tone that clashed with its reedy quality.
“Could be,” Jeffrey said. “That’s before my time.” He had found the right account on the computer, even though he didn’t even need to look it up, and now he was tapping sporadically on the shift key and staring at the screen as though it were doing something useful. In the grand scale of things, he didn’t make very many loans, not as many as a bank would anyhow, and few of his accounts defaulted. This one stood out like a sore thumb, because he knew the old woman used the car to do charity work and to avoid becoming shut-in.
“I do remember weather not too different from this in ’96,” he said, continuing the useless conversation that covered up his anxiety. “That was also the year of the blizzard.”
“Fascinating,” she said. “I want to ask you—”
“Here’s the thing, Mrs. Kramer,” interrupting her. The best way to handle a situation like this is to barrel through it head-on. “That account is in default. Unless you remit payment immediately, we’ll need to call the repo man.”
She was unfazed. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about, Sir.”
“I don’t see what there is to talk about, Mrs. Kramer.” Hard ass, remember. Hard ass. “If you can’t come up with the money, we need the car back. There’s nothing more I can do. My hands are tied.”
Mrs. Kramer looked confused. “I’m sorry. I thought you were the owner here.”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything I can do.”
He rose to see her out of the office, but she remained seated. From across his cluttered, oaken desk, she stared up at him with puppy-dog-brown eyes, grasping her cane for support.
She said, “Maybe I was wrong about you.”
Jeffrey walked around the desk, toward the door, but she still didn’t move to stand. She just kept staring at him, as though he were a circus attraction. See the Skunk-Man, the face of a man, the heart of a skunk. Or would that be an insult to the skunk?
Her calm steadfastness was beginning to rattle him. Jeffrey pulled over another chair, near to where Mrs. Kramer was sitting, and rested his foot on it. Then he leaned forward, supporting his body weight on his knee, towering over the old woman. Now he was back on a firm mental footing. Hard ass.
She continued in that same worn, creaky voice, and with the same air of confidence and authority. “In my years—and I’ve had more of them than you might think—I’ve known many people, Mr. Tanner, of all shapes and sizes, and all types. Some were as hard-nosed as a drill sergeant and stubborn as a mule, because that’s what they believed in. But many didn’t believe that, not deep down where it counts. They believed in people.”
Now she leaned forward, as much as her ailing body would allow, and got as close as she could to his face. Her eyes narrowed.
“But I never met anyone who got the way you are, unless something or someone drove him to it.”
For just an instant, April’s face flashed through Jeffrey’s memory. She had made him who he was, and he knew it. God, she was beautiful: skin fair and soft as a cloud on a bright spring day; hair like strands of yellow silk; rich, brown eyes he had felt staring into his soul. He remembered her fondly, painfully, and with bitterness. He hated her for what she did to him, and yet she had forever changed his view of the world.
Jeffrey said to the old lady, “I love your hat. Is it vintage?”
She leaned back in the chair. “My dear late husband gave it to me on our third wedding anniversary.” She chuckled, and it sounded as if there were something caught in her throat.
That seemed a strange gift for a husband to give his wife on her wedding anniversary. “He gave you a hat for your anniversary?” Jeffrey asked.
She nodded. “He said it would bring me luck.” She paused a moment. “Alex reminds me of him.”
“Your grandson?”
“My son,” she said.
“Did he buy you a lucky hat, too?”
She chuckled again. “He bought me something lucky, yes.”
She continued. “Alex worked in a music store, selling musical instruments and such. He made good money, too.”
“Sounds like a good man.” Jeffrey much preferred friendly conversation to hard-nosed business.
“His store came under new management,” the old widow continued. “Then a few weeks ago, a man came to him representing a charitable organization who had had some of its equipment stolen and needed to replace it. Well, Alex had sold them the original equipment, and he put together a wonderful deal for them to replace it, at a deep discount. Alex’s manager didn’t appreciate that.
“However, it seems the thief experienced an inexplicable stroke of conscience, because he left the stolen equipment in a safe place and anonymously called the police.
“Alex of course gladly accepted their return of the replacement equipment, for a full refund. But apparently, the store manager was even more upset that Alex accepted the return than he was at the discount.
“So Alex lost his job at the music store.”
Jeffrey nodded. He didn’t like the direction in which this story was going. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sometimes life sucks.”
“I mentioned that Alex bought me something lucky. He bought me a lucky car. I’m on a fixed income, and I can’t afford the car on my own. But I do need it to get around, and my granddaughter can drive me. Unfortunately, Alex’s current situation has left him short of cash. However, he will get another job, and we’ll make good on the loan, if you will afford us some grace.”
Jeffrey wanted to end the conversation immediately. “Mrs. Kramer, I already told you we can’t—”
“Mr. Tanner, you can do anything you want. What you choose to do is another subject altogether.”
“Look, Lady…” Jeffrey became angry. “You think running a business is all peaches and cream, like I have all the money and all the power and I can get away with anything I want. But that’s not how the world works. It’s dog-eat-dog out there. And if I don’t hold my bottom line, I’m going to be in the poor house. Being nice don’t buy you a load of beans in this world. So either come up with the cash, or I’m taking the car.”
He felt like he had just vomited up his stomach lining.
Mrs. Kramer sat for several seconds. Then she quietly struggled to her feet and without a word hobbled out of the office and into the parking lot.
From his office, Jeffrey watched her through the window. At least the worst was over, for now.
In the parking lot, a young woman began helping Mrs. Kramer into the passenger side of the car, a woman who epitomized youth and beauty. The sunlight glinted off her blonde hair, ruffled occasionally by a gentle breeze, otherwise flowing down around soft cheeks to just past her delicate shoulders. She wore a smart, brown, corduroy jacket and blue jeans, with sleek, brown shoes on her feet. It was an outfit that accentuated her curves just enough, but not too much, and made her look tall and sexy.
Jeffrey’s heart skipped a beat. Almost without thinking, he double-timed it out to the parking lot. As he did, the beautiful, young woman regarded him. Her bright blue eyes sparkled like sapphires set below fine, fair eyebrows, setting off a small, straight nose and pale lips.
“You didn’t introduce me to your driver,” Jeffrey said, slightly out of breath, placing his hands on his hips.
“This is my granddaughter, Mr. Tanner,” said the old widow.
He turned to the young woman, reached out his hand, and smiled. “Glad to meet you.”
“I guess that makes one of us,” she scoffed. Her grandmother had just relayed to her, briefly, the results of their conversation inside, and to the young woman’s mind, that surly response was all a viper like him deserved.
“Marietta, please,” said Mrs. Kramer. “Decorum.”
She reluctantly took his hand for a fleeting moment, leaving her grandmother perched on the edge of the car seat, the old woman’s legs hanging out through the open passenger-side door. The man wore a white shirt and conservative tie, and he stood a half-foot taller than she, with well-groomed, sandy hair, hazel eyes, and a smile that could charm the pants off her. That smile, once she took a moment to notice it, her heart began beating faster.
“Marietta,” Jeffrey cooed, still staring at her, “please don’t judge me too harshly. I think we might be able to work something out after all.”
Mrs. Kramer eyed him suspiciously.
Marietta saw the attraction in his eyes. Moreover, she knew the power she had over men, and she wasn’t afraid to use it, if the situation demanded.
“What changed your mind?” Marietta asked with a flirtatious smile.
“You did,” Jeffrey answered matter-of-factly. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
“Well, isn’t that something?” Marietta mocked playfully. “I must be the most persuasive person on the planet.” His cheeks dimpled as he smiled, and for a moment, Marietta wondered how it would feel to brush her finger over one.
“Indeed you are,” Jeffrey said. “Let me buy you dinner tonight, and we’ll discuss it.”
Mrs. Kramer huffed.
“And who knows,” he continued, ogling her up and down. “If the evening goes well, we can swing around to my place for a nightcap.” He sighed.
Mrs. Kramer gaped at him.
Marietta strutted up to Jeffrey, stared him in the face. She got a whiff of his cologne, a gentle but manly scent. She would love to nuzzle up against his neck and inhale, if it weren’t for what he was doing to her grandmother. That angered her.
“You couldn’t keep up with me, that’s for sure,” she intoned. Her eyes pierced the air between them like darts.
To Jeffrey, that sounded like a challenge, and one he would like to accept. “I’m sure I could,” he said, “and I’d like to prove it to you.”
This woman did more than just excite him; she enthralled him. The very sound of her voice, the way it touched on his ear, the way its tone rose and fell, made his heart pound. And now she was so close, he could smell the perfume of her hair, count the freckles on her nose. He imagined he could almost feel her eyelashes flicking as she blinked. If he dared, he could reach out and stroke her cheek, run a finger down her warm, smooth neck, maybe cause her to let out a little moan.
“Marietta!” the old widow scolded, interrupting his daydreams. Then, “Mr. Tanner, my granddaughter will not be selling herself at any price, least of all for something so insignificant as an automobile.”
Jeffrey feigned hurt. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply anything improper. I only meant that”—and he returned his gaze, smiling, to the beautiful Marietta—”it would be easier to talk as friends than as adversaries.”
He hated to use economic pressure to get a date with Marietta, but he had learned to use every means available to assure his success and happiness.
“It works out the same either way,” the old woman said scornfully. Then to Marietta, “You don’t have to do anything for this man. We’ll find an alternative arrangement.”
“I promise you’ll have a good time,” he purred seductively.
“You’re a pig,” Marietta said, still grinning, through clenched teeth. “You know that?”
He told himself he didn’t care whether he was a pig, but he needed to clinch the deal. “Look,” he said, “I know you don’t particularly like me. But if you just give me a chance, I can be a nice guy, and I think you’ll have a good time.” He paused a beat and then added, “What do you have to lose? It’s not like you can’t change your mind later. All I want is for you to give me a chance. A little good food and good company. Won’t cost you a thing.”
“Okay,” Marietta heard herself saying before she could stop herself, and then it was too late to take it back.