“Saul, don’t be tryin’ to get in our business,” Reuben warned.
“I just wanna know how y’all can afford a brand-new house. What is it, some kinda low-income housing project or something?”
Camille gasped audibly. This was the last straw. A project? How dare Saul say such a thing?
“Of course it’s not a project,” she snapped. “It’s a beautiful two-story house, right on the lake, with a fireplace and a two-car garage and a bathroom inside the master bedroom with both a big shower and a sculpted Jacuzzi tub. And plenty of grass. How many projects do you see have features like that?”
“Take it easy, Camille,” Saul said, “I was just asking.”
“Yeah, in the most insulting way you could. Who the hell moves two states away to live in the projects?” She glared at her brother-in-law. For the first time she felt glad that she’d allowed herself to be convinced to buy the larger house Reuben wanted. Wait until Saul and the rest saw it. Their eyes would get as big as Tracee Ross’s.
Ginny spoke out calmly. “All right. No reason for anyone to lose their temper. Reuben, Camille, your house sounds lovely. I just hope . . .”
Here it comes, Camille thought angrily.
“. . . you two haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”
“We wouldn’t have bought it if we couldn’t afford it, Mom,” Reuben assured her.
“Well, who knows? I might have bought a condo or something for myself if my sister left me enough to do it with,” Ginny commented airily.
“Have you gotten a mortgage loan yet?” Arnelle asked.
Camille knew she hoped that they wouldn’t get approved, but they already had been. She and Reuben would never announce their intentions if the plan wasn’t solid. Still, it hurt to hear Arnelle in particular sound so hopeful that their plans wouldn’t work out. How many times had she loaned her sister-in-law money so her lights wouldn’t get cut off?
Saul hadn’t given up painting a picture of doom and gloom. “What happens if the builders run out of money and can’t finish the house? You guys just lose your deposit?”
“They’ll finish it, Saul,” Reuben replied, unruffled. “They’ve built hundreds of homes in the area. The developers are multimillionaires.”
“Well, just try not to forget about your poor city relations once you’re living large in your bright, shiny new house,” Saul said.
Arnelle leaned forward and spoke so only Camille could hear. “Now I know why you told me what you did the other week, Camille.”
Two weeks ago Arnelle had asked to borrow eighty dollars to pay her cable bill, and Camille had turned her down, saying she and Reuben had begun a tight new budget with nothing to spare. Arnelle had clearly been shocked by the refusal. She whined a little, saying the cable company would cut her off if she didn’t pay, but Camille held firm. “You and Tiffany have a roof over your heads and enough to eat,” she’d said. “Living without HBO for a while isn’t the end of the world.” She felt proud of herself for not caving in to her sister-in-law’s attempts at manipulation. Even now, sensing an attempt on Arnelle’s part to make her feel guilty, Camille looked her dead in the eye and merely smiled.
“Y’all sure are livin’ large,” Brenda remarked. She paused a beat and added, “Thanks to Aunt Mary.”
Camille rolled her eyes, not caring if they saw her. Her family had reacted similarly when she and Reuben announced their plans at dinner, with the general consensus being that they’d gotten too big for their britches. She didn’t understand their disapproval. What was so wrong about wanting to improve your life and that of your children? But with the Curry side of the family they also had to deal with snide remarks about how Reuben alone had benefited from their aunt’s will. None of them had even so much as picked up the phone to say hello to the old lady, but that didn’t matter, they still felt slighted.
Reuben, thank God, handled all the derogatory remarks like a pro. “We’d love it if you guys came to visit us. We’ll be moved in just in time for the barbecue season.”
“So your house isn’t even built yet?” Ginny asked.
“Well, no, Mom. It’s a new community. People come in, pick out the house they want and the lot they want it built on, and once they get approved for a mortgage loan they sign contracts and the builders go to work. That’s how it works.”
Camille wanted to tell him not to bother, that they wouldn’t understand.
In truth, sometimes she had trouble grasping the concept herself. Initially she’d worried about whether or not they would qualify for a mortgage. They’d paid some bills late here and there over the years. The bank loan officer advised them to pay down some of their debt before making a formal application, so they reluctantly took two thousand dollars from their savings and complied. Their reward was a reasonably low interest rate.
Sometimes Camille still worried about how they would manage, living so far away from their network of families and friends who also provided babysitting support, but Reuben radiated such confidence she told herself it was foolish to worry. Besides, after the comments she’d had to listen to today, the more distance between them and their families, the better. And surely nervousness among first-time home buyers was a perfectly natural reaction. A home was the biggest purchase a person ever made. Before this she and Reuben had bought nothing more substantial than cars.
Still, what was that Saul said? “I hope your car holds out.” Driving two hundred miles round-trip five days a week was an awful lot of wear and tear on a vehicle. Hell, that added up to a thousand miles a week. She wondered if Reuben had thought of that. They probably should forget about any plans to drive and take the commuter bus, at least for now. They’d switch to the train once it started running.
And she would check the want ads faithfully every Sunday. Like Reuben said, surely someone locally would have need for a secretary. She worked in the marketing department now, but she could handle anything as long as it wasn’t too specialized, like medicine or law. Surely she’d have to take a pay cut, but it would be worth it if she didn’t have to spend over two hundred dollars a month to commute to New York. Just think, if she had a job in Stroudsburg she’d be able to watch the sun rise over the lake behind her backyard every morning.
She couldn’t wait.
December 2001
“Okay, here we are!” Camille said. The kids had pestered her and Reuben continually with “Are-we-there-yet?” for the last fifty miles. It reminded her of how she felt during that endless bus ride to camp as a child, wondering if they’d ever get there. At least they wouldn’t have to make the round-trip every day after they moved in, unlike Reuben and her.
Mitchell and Shayla were speechless as they took in the smooth paved streets and the children playing in their front yards. Even the sight of partially constructed houses on dirt lots, with builders’ materials littering the front yards, and other lots that were completely empty, didn’t take away from the attractive neighborhood.
“This is pretty,” Shayla proclaimed. “Like in the Beethoven movies.”
“And this is where our house is going to be,” Reuben said proudly. “Look. They’ve already laid the foundation. I’m glad they got it in before we had any snow, or else our house might not be ready in April like it’s supposed to be.”
Camille stared at the deep concrete square.
“Will we be able to swim in the lake?” Mitchell asked.
“You have to learn to swim first,” Reuben teased. “Actually, this lake isn’t for swimming. They have it stocked with fish, and maybe we’ll get a rowboat and some fishing poles and see if we can catch anything.”
“Cool!”
“But you’ll still be able to swim,” Camille added. “There’s a nice big pool on the property. There’s also a playground. We’ll drive you past there so you can see it before we leave.”
Shayla pulled at Camille’s sleeve. “The terrorists won’t crash a plane here, will they, Mommy?”
She knelt to be face-to-face
with the eight-year-old. Things had changed so much already this century, Camille thought with a touch of sadness. When she was Shayla’s age she had no idea what a terrorist was. “Shayla, we never know what’s going to happen five minutes from now. None of us is immune, or really safe. But Daddy and I will always do whatever we can to protect you and Mitchell from any harm. All right?”
Shayla nodded. “Mommy, this is even better than Disney World, because we’ll be here every day.”
The children ran toward the lake, and Reuben and Camille stood with their arms around each other. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that the kids are pleased,” she said.
“And why not? This is a dream come true for people like us who live on an ugly street in the Bronx.” He chuckled. “You know, every time I talk to Saul or my sisters they keep asking if we’re still moving.”
The thought of her in-laws put a halt to Camille’s charitable feelings. “It figures. They probably hope something will go wrong. Honestly, Reuben, your family is like crabs in a barrel, all trying to pull the one who manages to get out back in.”
“Actually, Saul is asking if he can rent our apartment when we leave. The landlord will probably go for it. Saul used to work for him, and he left on good terms.”
“Why does Saul want a two-bedroom apartment all of a sudden?”
“He wants to get a place with his girlfriend, and she’s got a little boy. She lives in a tenement around Tinton Avenue, and he wants to get her out of there. He’s actually talking about settling down. Hell, he’s avoided it all these years. I guess it’s about time.” Saul, a year older than Reuben, was nearly forty.
“You know, I confess, I was a little worried when we signed those papers for the larger house, especially since we sprung for a lakeside lot,” Camille said. “But now that I can start to picture it, it’s going to be just wonderful.”
Chapter 11
The Lees
December 2001
“Okay, here’s what I figure,” Norman said as he and Veronica sat having a discussion at their butcher-block dining table. “You’ll probably get hired on at the hospital before me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Veronica said. “Orthopedics is just as active as surgery.” Both she and Norman worked as RNs, she in the postsurgical unit, he in orthopedics.
“We’ll see. But I think we should request to work twelve-hour shifts three days a week instead of what we’re doing now so that we can manage to have one of us at home. It’s going to make for a very long workday with such a long commute, and we won’t get many chances to sit down to dinner together, but we can’t have Lorinda and Simone at home by themselves from before dawn until seven or eight o’clock at night.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Veronica said. She hadn’t thought of that. Norman was so smart. She felt lucky to have him to put her faith in. He knew all the questions to ask: taxes, school systems, and the like. At his insistence they’d even attended a free seminar for home buyers given by their bank. They needed all the help they could get, he said.
No doubt about it, she’d made a good decision when she chose him to be her husband and the father of her children.
“Working different days will stretch our commuting dollars as well,” Norman continued. “We can use the same pass instead of us both having to buy one. I know they say they’re nontransferable, but as long as it doesn’t have our picture we’re okay.”
“But Norman, do you think the buses run long enough to accommodate a twelve-hour workday?”
“Ah, good point. They probably don’t. We probably need to think about doing ten hours, four days a week. That’ll give us forty hours.”
Veronica frowned. “But we can’t get in forty hours each in a seven-day week, Norman, without having an overlapping day. And then what about the kids?”
“I’ll work forty hours. That will keep our benefits going. You’ll have to cut down to part-time, three days a week. That’ll give you thirty hours.”
“Well . . .” She couldn’t deny how nice that sounded to her ears, making that long trip into the city just three times a week. “I guess I can let the hospital in East Stroudsburg know that I’m available for part-time work as well.”
“If they offer you something that’s at least thirty hours, you take it. It’s the same as you’d be doing at Presbyterian without a two-hour bus ride to get there.” He paused. “I’m sorry about the delay, Veronica. I know you really liked that house.”
“It’s not your fault, Norman.” She meant it, but she couldn’t deny being sad over the way things had worked out.
“I just can’t see getting stuck paying 8 1/2 percent interest when we can pay 5 1/2 if we slow down a little bit and do what we’re supposed to,” he explained. “Over thirty years three percentage points adds up to a lot of money. But I promise you that every dime I make from this part-time job will go toward paying off the bills so we can get a good mortgage rate. We’ll get our house, probably by the summer. It just won’t be the one we looked at. I doubt it’ll still be on the market by then.”
She’d been terribly disappointed when all the lenders they tried said they didn’t qualify for the lower interest rates because of the combined effects of high credit card balances and a few late payments. She’d even suggested to Norman that they go ahead with the higher rate and refinance after a few years, an idea he promptly vetoed. “It costs money to refinance, Veronica. Plus we have to plan on higher expenses while we’re commuting. There might not be any extra left over to pay down the bills. We have to do this right from the jump. And we definitely have to pay close attention to our bills. Credit is getting more and more important these days. We can’t afford to miss any payments. Credit card companies are starting to charge extra if you pay even one day late, and if you’re late paying one bill the others can raise your interest rate.”
He’d been right, of course, and now she sought to reassure him. “You’re working awfully hard, Norman. Forty at Presbyterian plus another twenty at the nursing home. I think it might be too much for you.”
“It’s only temporary, and it’ll be worth it in the long run. We’re talking about our future, and the future of our daughters.”
Chapter 12
The Youngs
January 2002
Dawn turned her upper body so she could see her son in the backseat. “So, what do you think, Zach? Would you like living here?”
“We’re really going to live here?”
“Absolutely,” Milo replied, his eyes on the road.
Dawn loved the look of wonder in her son’s eyes. “I take it you approve.”
“Can I have a dog?”
Dawn laughed. “Well, not a pure breed, you understand, but we’ll bring you down to the local pound and see what they’ve got.”
“Awright!”
“I always wanted a dog when I was a kid, Zach,” Milo said. “We couldn’t have one because our apartment house didn’t allow them, just like the one we have now doesn’t, either. But it’s especially nice to have a dog when you have a house. Their barking will let you know if someone is lurking around outside or even approaching.”
“I heard a rumor the other day that the Mitchell-Lama agreements for moderate rents on the buildings is set to expire in a couple of years,” Dawn remarked.
“What happens then? Surely they can’t just throw all their old tenants out.”
“No, but each time someone moves out, or dies, they’ll rent the apartment at the market rate. I heard they’ll start allowing dogs then. I’ll bet you that after a certain percentage of tenants are paying market rates it’ll go co-op. And that’s when they’ll start fixing them up.”
“Well, by then we’ll be long gone,” Milo said, “so it doesn’t matter to me if they make the tenants buy their apartments or not.”
Zach piped up from the backseat. “Where’s our house gonna be, Daddy?”
“We’ll be in the next phase of construction, which is down the main road and to the right. But
right now there isn’t anything there. They’re knocking down a lot of trees and leveling the land, but they won’t start building on it until the spring.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t be disappointed, Zach,” Dawn said. “Instead we’re going to show you a house here in Phase One that’s just like the one we picked out, and in the same type of location.”
Milo pulled over in front of a neat ranch house. “There we are. But Zach, you can’t get too close to it, because there are people living here. They might think you’re a burglar and shoot you.”
“Shoot me?”
“Yes. And they’d be within their rights. You don’t walk up and peek in someone’s windows. It’s called trespassing, and it’s a criminal act.”
“The house next to this one is just going up, Milo,” Dawn said. “Let’s get out and pretend we’re looking at it, and then Zach can get a better look.”
“We can always go to the model. This house has just been started, and it’s a lot bigger than ours.”
“Later. I do want him to see the inside, but I also want him to get the full effect.” Holding her head where only Milo could see, she mouthed the words “the lake.”
“All right.” He backed up so that they were in front of the skeleton of the partially constructed house next door.
Zach hopped out of the backseat of the Volvo and ran toward the incomplete two-story house, his gaze fixed on the ranch house next door. “Where’s my room gonna be?” he asked his parents when they caught up to him.
“Your room is the one with the window on the right front, plus the window on the side.”
“Which one is y’all’s room?”
“On the other side of the house,” Milo told him.
Dawn smiled discreetly. They had opted for the larger ranch house with its split bedroom arrangement rather than the smallest model that had been advertised on the TV commercial, where the master bedroom shared a common wall with one of the other bedrooms. This arrangement would give them the privacy they had become accustomed to with their apartment layout, even if that privilege plus the extra square footage came with a price tag several thousand dollars higher. They both felt good about their decision. After all, they weren’t building a house so they could have a lessappealing layout than their apartment had.
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