Lighting Candles in the Snow

by Karen Jones Gowen

  Everyone wandered in, greeted me and sat down at their usual places in the modern, eat-in kitchen. Four-year-old Josh said, “Hi, Aunt Kar-o-line,” with the emphasis on the last syllable of my name.

  I’ve always been picky about how my name is pronounced. It is Karoline with a K, not a C, and the “line” is pronounced with a long “i” sound, not “lyn” with the short “i.” I correct anyone who gets it wrong. Not that I would have corrected darling little Josh, even if he had gotten it wrong, which he didn’t. He pronounced my name perfectly in his adorable, exaggerated way.

  Ignoring calories, I consumed two helpings of lasagna, three rolls with butter, and real, full-fat Ranch dressing on the salad. Suz had fat-free dressing available but I turned it down.

  After dinner, Rob sat back in his chair and directed a question my way, over the babbling undercurrent of the seven children. “Well, Karoline, how’s work going?”

  I thought back to the visitors. “I have a sneaking suspicion my boss is going to sell the company.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is this a new development or something that’s been in the works for a while?”

  I wiped my mouth and crumpled my napkin. I had eaten my fill but left room for that super-sized chocolate cake I saw on the kitchen counter. “There’s been talk of it for some time. Mr. Everett is getting older and he has no family to take over the day to day operations. I guess it isn’t that much of a surprise actually.”

  Rob loved to talk about work. He operated a chain of orthodontic care clinics throughout the Salt Lake Valley. He often reminded me that I had a job with him any time. With Suzie and Rob willing to take me under their wings and give me whatever I needed—job, home, food, money—it’s a wonder I maintained any independence.

  “How is the business doing?” he asked me.

  “About the same as always. Mr. Everett has been around for ages. People know and respect him in the financial world.”

  “You recently got a promotion, didn’t you?”

  “I was put over the sub-prime division. It’s hard to believe I’ve been there three years already.”

  I shredded my napkin into pieces, letting them fall in a pile on my plate. Thinking about the past three years at Draper Mortgage, with Jeremy, when things began falling apart for us. The Incident. None of this would do me any good. Where was that cake, anyway?

  Suzie was cutting it and passing it around. “Do you want a piece, Karoline?”

  “Of course.” I picked up my fork in anticipation.

  She handed me a dessert plate with a large square of cake piled high with frosting. “Here you go,” she said.

  I glanced down and saw the walnut half on top. “Suz! See what you did!”

  She grinned. “It’s what you wanted, right? Fudge frosting and a walnut half. My little surprise.”

  “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

  I set down my fork and almost cried over my walnut half, perfectly placed in the center, the chocolate icing squishing up around it.

  “I thought your surprise was a new baby,” I admitted.

  She laughed and shook her head. “No baby. Cake the way you were craving it. There are several more pieces like that one, in case you want seconds. Rob and the kids don’t like walnuts.”

  After serving the dessert, Suz sat down and said, “You know, Karoline, it’s amazing how fast time passes. I remember when you were debating whether to take that job at Draper or not.”

  “It was a tough decision,” I said, “leaving Books and More to work for a mortgage company. I wanted a book-related job, like editing or something. But the pay and hours were so much better at Draper. Three years ago, with interest rates dropping to two per cent, the mortgage business was really hopping. There was some good money to be made, so I made the change.”

  “Don’t people have to go to New York to get those editing kinds of jobs anyway?” Rob asked.

  I scooped up a section of cake onto my fork, ready to dig in but not wanting to take a bite and answer Rob with my mouth full. “I know of a couple small publishers here in Salt Lake but I think they hire in-house. Or you have to know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody. I’ve never seen an editing job advertised in the local paper. At least working in the bookstore kept me around books. Good thing I left when I did since now Books and More is out of business.”

  I knew when I majored in English sans the teaching degree it would mean “not really qualified for anything in the real world,” but I didn’t care because I loved books and wanted to study literature, perhaps be an editor someday. When Jeremy began to make money at writing, I’d been insanely proud of his success. Editing Jeremy’s work had been a pleasure. I would do the initial edits before he submitted to his agent or returned revisions to his editor. He now had three novels out, selling quite well, and one in negotiations. I had edited all but the first.

  Jeremy wrote intense, intricate plots, dark film noir kind of stuff reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock, exploring character motivations while keeping up a fast, suspenseful pace. One critic had called him a “literary Stephen King.”

  I missed editing Jeremy’s work.

  I didn’t miss him.

  As I sat at the table, staring at my walnut half that was the best part of my day so far, the fantasy of getting a job as an editor somewhere played out in my mind.

  “And the bookstore is where you met Jeremy,” Suzie added with a meaningful look in my direction, as though to say “to spoil all your hopes and dreams.”

  “Good old Jeremy,” I said.

  I had been working as assistant manager in the local bookstore downtown, Books and More, where he was a frequent customer. Jeremy, who had a novel coming out, wanted to set up an event.

  First he courted me because I had clout in the store, then it was because, I don’t know—he thought I was cute or something. He used to say, “Karoline, you are just too damn cute.” Blah blah blah. I took a big bite of cake with a glob of rich chocolate icing dripping off it.

  Until I wasn’t cute to him any longer.

  I shoveled two pieces of cake into my mouth, each one with a walnut half, glad for the hubbub at the table keeping anyone from noticing how much I ate. Rob had two as well, so I wasn’t the only one who took seconds.

  Tomorrow would be another day. I would get back on my diet, I would let go of the past, and at work I’d ask my boss if I’d still have a job three months from now.

  “Have you started dating again since the divorce?” Rob asked me. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head like he was ready to have a long conversation about my dating history.

  I glanced back and forth between Suzie and Rob. “Do you guys not talk? You know all this stuff, Suz.”

  Rob shrugged and gave his wife an adoring smile. “Suzie doesn’t tell me anything.” He tipped forward in his chair and lifted another slice of cake out of the pan.

  “You know how the girls are always around, Karoline, and I don’t want them to hear us gossiping about your personal life. Rob and I try to avoid those issues,” Suzie explained in a low voice.

  The girls kept jabbering about something unintelligible in their strange, teenage girl code language, completely uninterested in our conversation. Still, Suzie’s respect for my privacy touched me.

  “Thank you, Suzie. That’s very thoughtful since you put it that it way.” I turned to Rob and replied, “And the answer is no, I haven’t started dating again, not really. There’s the occasional movie or dinner out, sometimes a blind date that is horrible, but nothing worth counting.”

  “Why haven’t we set her up with anyone, Suzie? I can think of a couple single guys. Who knows? Something might click.” He gave Suzie a questioning look.

  “You’re right, Rob. We should do more to help Karoline out. Introduce her around. Have a party or something like that.” She sounded a bit guilty, like they had let me down.

  I shook my head, not liking the sound of this. I refused to be anyone’s project. “
No, I’m fine. It’s actually good being alone for a change. Not to mention, I may get pretty busy on the job search if Mr. Everett has an offer on the firm.”

  I said the last part blithely, without believing it. That would be the worst. Of course Mr. Everett wouldn’t sell the company. Of course I wouldn’t lose my job. I closed my eyes and listened to the chatter at the table, like a fortress of reality to keep me grounded no matter what.

  Losing my job couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t. My whole life revolved around work, since . . . since . . . well, to be honest, since I turned eighteen, my routine had revolved around either work or school, school and work. From my first job at sixteen, when I won Employee of the Month eight times in a row at Dairy Delite, I was hooked on the high of getting to be top dog. I liked the feeling of knowing I did my best, going that extra mile, having a home away from home. I liked staying busy and feeling productive, part of a team with goals. Getting the paycheck meant “You are one of us. You belong. We value your contribution.”

  Whether it was making pizzas at college, or managing Books and More when I moved to Salt Lake, or learning the mortgage business at Draper Mortgage and Lending, I liked work.

  Suzie had once or twice accused me of being a workaholic. Well, maybe I was, but I saw no reason not to be. Especially now. What else did I have to wake up for in the mornings if not work? What else was there to look forward to when I went to bed at night?

  “You know you always have a job with me, Karoline,” Rob said. “Just say the word.”

  “I appreciate that, Rob, but I’m an independent sort of gal.” He seemed disappointed, and I hurried to add, “Although if I can’t find anything, I’ll certainly call you.”

  “Okay, I’m holding you to that,” he said. “It can be tough out there and our offices can always use a good receptionist.”

  I didn’t expect I would need Rob’s safety net. Finding employment had never been difficult for me, as long as I didn’t get too picky or expect everything to be a major career opportunity. Although each job I landed usually turned into a career move of some sort, and I’d work my way up until the next promising opportunity came along. I started at Books and More as a clerk and was manager within a year. I started at Draper as a loan officer and was now over the sub-prime mortgage division. I happened to do well at work, why worry? If things fell apart at Draper, I’d simply get another job.

  “Getting back to the dating thing,” Rob persisted. “Being set up can be a good way to meet someone. Another option is an online dating service. I know couples who’ve tried this with some success.”

  What is it about happily married couples that make them want to play cupid? “I’m not ready for an online dating service yet, Rob. Really, I’m fine. Don’t set me up. It’s torture.”

  “Are you sure, Karoline?” Suzie added. “Rob and I have pretty wide circles. We can make a list and come up with some suitable single men for you. Seriously, you should start dating.”

  “Don’t you guys only know Mormons though?” I asked, knowing that Mormons like to marry within their own religion, like Jews.

  Rob rubbed his chin in a thoughtful way. “I’m thinking of a couple guys I went to school with who would be ideal. They’re not LDS, and they’re always complaining about how hard it is to meet nice women around here who aren’t LDS.” He turned to Suzie. “You remember Zac Kline? You met him a couple years ago at the Peterson’s Christmas party. He’s tall, athletic, we talked about snowboarding?”

  “Oh yes, that guy!” As an aside to me, she said, “He’s very attractive.” Back to Rob, “He’s not LDS?”

  “No, Catholic, I think.”

  “Hmm,” Suzie said, checking me out like she hadn’t known me my entire life. “Yes, I can see the possibilities. I think you two might hit it off, Karoline. You both enjoy sports, and Zac struck me as a nice guy. Very friendly, good personality. Nothing at all like Jeremy.”

  Once Susie made up her mind there was no point arguing with her. I kept quiet and let her go on about how she and Rob would set up a dinner. If the two of them ever found the time out of their busy schedules to fix up me and snowboarding guy, I’d deal with it then.

  Meanwhile, I would carry on. Single, hanging out with Suzie and her kids in my spare time, lose eight more pounds, and avoid negative thinking. And I might have to find a new job. Or a new career. Surely not. But maybe.

  Suzie’s Chocolate Fudge Cake for a Crowd

  (Very rich cake. Learn from my mistakes and don’t eat more than one piece at a time.)

  1½ cups water

  1 cup shortening

  6 large eggs

  3 tablespoons vanilla

  2½ cups pastry flour

  2½ cups sugar

  1½ cups unsweetened cocoa powder

  3 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon baking soda

  ½ teaspoon salt

  Preheat oven to 350º F. Grease a large cake pan, 11" by 17". Combine ingredients in order given, mix thoroughly in electric mixer. Mix again for another 2 or 3 minutes to make cake light and fluffy. Spread in pan and bake 30 or 45 minutes, until pick inserted in center comes out clean. Frost when cool. Top each square with one perfect walnut half.

  Icing

  Beat until smooth 4 cups powdered sugar, ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder, ½ cup butter or shortening, 1 teaspoon vanilla, ½ cup milk, or more for desired consistency.

  Chapter Five

  The buyers gave my boss a cash offer and Mr. Everett handed his company over in less than thirty days. Draper Mortgage and Lending, a small family-owned company since 1948, first a bank then a mortgage lender and broker, was now part of a chain of mortgage companies that was growing faster than anyone could count. This chain claimed they’d put every American family in its own home, although to me the tactics and products they promoted didn’t seem to be in the best interest of the borrowers.

  It troubled me that Mr. Everett sold out to them. I thought he had stood for something, but just like that he signed on the dotted line and handed our loans over to these aggressive mass market mortgagers.

  The last week, when we were closing things out and transferring loan servicing to the new people, I marched into his office and confronted him. “Mr. Everett, what is going on here? I’ve been trying to understand but I still don’t get it. Why are you selling out to these people? I thought you were in this for the long haul. I thought we stood for something.”

  He shook his head. “Karoline, they aren’t my first choice, believe me. In a perfect world, I would’ve declined, and waited. But everything is changing and they made the right offer at the right time. I’m doing us a favor by getting out now before it all comes crashing down. This way, you employees can have severance pay and unemployment benefits lined up instead of the shock of coming to work one day and finding the doors locked.”

  “What? What are you saying? Are things really that bad?” I sat down and faced him. He had always been such a positive, forward-looking businessman. It shocked me to hear him talk like this.

  He chuckled his jolly old guy, just kidding you laugh.

  “Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a little, although I can see the writing on the wall. I’ve been in this business a long time. Housing prices and values are increasing way too fast with the flood of new homeowners looking to buy. I predict at least half of the loans out there for marginally qualified people will fail in the next couple years. By 2010 it will all be over.”

  I stared at him, hardly able to take in this picture of doom and gloom. “Really? You think it will get that bad?”

  “That bad? You bet I do. Housing values will plummet, causing a tightening of underwriting restrictions. Most of the sub-prime market will evaporate. Banks and mortgage companies will go under. I don’t want to be one of them.”

  He picked up the picture of his wife that sat facing him on his desk. She was a lovely woman, tall and gray-haired, who would greet us by name whenever she came to the office.

  “I�
��ve spent years working to build my business. It’s time to slow down and have time with my wife before it’s too late. We have no children. We want to travel. We want to enjoy our retirement.”

  I nodded, thinking about my parents who were doing just that. “I can see where you’d want to slow down, but you make it sound like the mortgage business is about to collapse. Yet these past few years you encouraged us to build up Draper’s sub-prime business. Why?”

  He set the picture back down and then straightened his keyboard. His fingers looked like they itched to start dancing across the keys. This man planned to retire? Well, good luck with that, from one workaholic to another.

  “The sub-prime business offered a window of opportunity to select borrowers who couldn’t qualify for regular loans,” Mr. Everett explained in his slow and deliberate way of speaking. “I believed that our high standards and caution in the products we offered to our customers would provide an opportunity for home ownership they couldn’t otherwise qualify for, as long as we didn’t encourage them to get in over their heads. In addition, we serviced our own loans which enabled our clients to have a local office to come to for questions.”

  I’d heard it before. I was familiar with Mr. Everett’s business model and in fact had been completely in agreement with it.

  I nodded. “That’s why I loved working here, Mr. Everett. It felt like we really cared about people.”

  He absently stacked papers from one pile to another, his particular way of cleaning his desk. It was a standard joke with anyone who knew him. The man’s desk was never cleared off. He often said he didn’t trust any business owner who had a perfectly clear desk. What were they trying to hide?

  “Unfortunately, the sub-prime market nationwide has gone crazy,” Mr. Everett continued. “Loans are being doled out on a massive scale to people who can’t possibly afford them. This spells nothing but trouble. It sickens me to see it, and I feel like the only option to protect my business and my employees is for us to get out now before the crash comes.”