We needed to capitalize on the building’s history, and our reputation as an upscale bar and grill, by adding dining room space and introducing a gourmet bakery to our offerings. We had also been approached by an investor group to discuss franchising our restaurant concept. That takes money; and Shelby Loomis had the money. So I endured the heat to discuss our proposal.
I walked from Jimmy’s, up Second Avenue to Church Street, and left to the bank on the corner of Fourth and Church. The normal ten minute walk past Printer’s Alley took me nearly twenty-five minutes because of the heat. When I finally stepped inside the bank, the cold air was refreshing but frigid. I hastened to the rest room off the lobby to make myself presentable again. I took out a paper towel and plunged it down the front of my Lilly Pulitzer blouse and tried to dry my chest and shoulders. The heat had done a number on my hair leaving it stringy, with all the styling I had worked so hard to fix totally gone. I brushed it but it wasn’t the same. I washed my face, refreshed my makeup and smoothed out the wrinkles in my skirt and blouse. After a long look in the mirror I pronounced myself ready to see the mighty Shelby Loomis.
When Mrs. Watson ushered me into his elegant office, Shelby rose from his maroon leather chair and came around the massive oak desk. “Charlotte, how do you keep so pretty in this devilish weather?”
“Good genes and a handy little ole make up emergency bag I carry. Thank you for the compliment, Shelby. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”
“You’re more than welcome and thank you. Want something to drink? A Coke or water?”
“I’ll take a glass of iced water, thank you.”
When Mrs. Watson brought me the water, Shelby and I sat at the small round table near the window facing Fourth Avenue. We talked about the weather, the sports scene in Nashville, and everything else except the reason for my visit. I guess we both expected it to burst out unexpectedly at any time. Giving in to the tension, I asked. “Shelby, I know you’re busy, and I need to get back. What do we need to do to get the loan I requested in our proposal?”
There was a long pause as my friend’s demeanor changed. His lips closed, and he diverted his eyes from my face to the table top. His look told me he had transitioned from being my friend to becoming my banker. He cleared his throat. I watched as he raised his eyes to mine; the scowl on his face didn’t give me a good feeling. The proposal was on the table in front of him. He rested his hands on the black folder, shook his head and I knew something was wrong.
“Well?” I said.
He put his hands on the table and leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “Charlotte, I just can’t do it”
I didn’t pick up on it at that moment, but later I realized his tone of voice and his facial expression had a melancholy look when he delivered the bad news. Frankly, he took me by surprise. I expected that loan, hell, I needed that loan. Perhaps it was the heat, maybe it was his seemingly casual demeanor, or maybe it was just simply me, but regardless of the reason, I admit, I reacted poorly.
“What do you mean you can’t loan me any money. Don’t you think I’m good for it? Don’t I have enough money already deposited in your bank? You didn’t even look at my proposal much less study it. Did you, Shelby? Come on Shelby, what gives?”
The man had been my banker and friend for years; we had done business long before this. I was frustrated. I assumed he understood that so much depended on the bank making the loan. Besides, he was my friend, and had never denied me before.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte honey. I just can’t loan you any money now.”
My defenses immediately went up. My frustration took control. What did he call me?
The son of a bitch called me ‘honey!’
“What did you say? You called me ‘honey’? You pull the loan out from under me and then expect to smooth over it by calling me ‘honey’? That’s it Shelby Loomis. I believe I might have to consider changes in our banking relationship.”
My temperature was involuntarily rising; I fought it, but lost my attempt to gain control of my emotions. I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
Loomis followed. “Charlotte, wait …”
The bang of the door hitting the doorstop reverberated through the bank lobby. I was determined to get out of there as fast as possible. I didn’t take time to nod at Brenda at her desk, or Todd behind the counter. My heels make a click-clack sound on those marble floors, like a tap dancer doing the heel-toe rata-tat-tat across the room. I swept out the front door relieved to be leaving that jerk.
I was instantly brought back to reality as I walked out of the front door and was slapped with the hot rush of heat from the July sun. Tell you the truth, at that moment I was hotter than the sun. Anger hung between my mind and my vocal cords and just sat there and fermented. Finally, ‘aghh’ was all I could muster; I was so disgusted.
Off came the cute cotton jacket and on went the sun glasses. I was so mad; I didn’t look at the traffic as I crossed the street heading to the Grand Summit Hotel on the opposite corner, my next stop for the day. You don’t walk fast in this weather or you melt away with the exertion. A deep breath or two and the slower pace helped me gain control.
I can’t let that son of a bitch get me worked up; I got more important things to think about. I had big plans for this evening; big personal plans, and Loomis was not going to put me in a sour mood. My mind reluctantly switched from that sorry Banker to my plans for the evening. To make it work, I needed some help from my friend, Roberto.
Roberto, the aging Italian doorman in his elegant black suit with a red rose in the lapel, stood just inside the door to the ornate lobby. As I walked in, the cool air again washed over me.
“Whew, that feels good,” I said to no one in particular.
Roberto laughed. “It’s a hot day Ms. Howard; you shouldn’t be outside.”
“I know Roberto. But I had to see Loomis at the bank this afternoon before they closed. Say, did you remember the favor I asked you to do for me?”
My whole plan for this evening depended on Roberto.
“I did. I left a note for Coach McCoy to see me before he goes out. Don’t you worry; I’ll get him to Jimmy’s if I have to carry him.”
I hugged my friend. “Thanks, Roberto. Bring Maria in one night, steaks on me. Okay?”
That task settled, I continued to push my way through the heat, and make my way back to Jimmy’s one block down and two over. The sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds. Each step alternated between shade and bright sun, depending on the celestial game being played out above. In front of Jimmy’s Bar and Grill, I stopped to stare at the brick front and ornate windows of the old building. Some days I loved this place, but this wasn’t one of them.
But I have high hopes for what I expected would happen here this evening. As if on cue, the sun beamed between the clouds and reflected off the stained glass of the massive oak doors of the bar.
Hope that’s a good sign for tonight.
The cool interior of the Bar was refreshing. I didn’t think I could stand being outside any longer. The sweat was already dripping off the tip of my nose. Ronnie Mitchell, my maître d' stood just inside the door. He and Jimmy had been in Vietnam together and he helped start the Bar some thirty five years back. Frankly, Ronnie was more than that; he had run the Bar since Jimmy’s death, even though I was the owner. On a personal level, Ronnie had known my Mom and was my closest friend.
“How was your meeting?” Ronnie asked.
“Can I have a towel first to wipe this sweat off? It’s a killer out there; I don’t see how construction workers stand it.”
Ronnie had some sixth sense; he reached behind the bar for the towel and a glass of cold water he had waiting for me.
I took the towel and wiped a gallon of sweat from my face. I didn’t care what it did to my makeup. I took a gulp of the cold water and rubbed the cold glass on my forehead to relieve some of the heat headache I had developed. “Whew, thanks Ronnie!”
As I cooled in the a
ir conditioned temperature of the Bar, I thought about this afternoon’s meeting with Shelby Loomis.
“Frankly, Ronnie, I’ve come to loathe bankers and lawyers. But I need them so I have to be nice.”
“So, I take it the meeting went well?” Ronnie replied with a laugh.
“Oh sure, everything was smooth as silk.”
I couldn’t think of anything that really expressed how frustrated and angry I was.
“What happened?”
“I presented our expansion proposal; the one we spent so much time on. Loomis spent barely thirty seconds looking at it, and then with a straight face told me. ‘The Bank can’t loan you money right now.’ He had no questions about the proposal or our business, nothing. He hardly had time to read it. I tell you Ronnie, I’m about this close to pulling all our accounts from Shelby Loomis, and telling him to take his bank and shove it.”
I took another drink of the cold water and began pacing in front of the antique bar.
“He must have had a good reason, don’t you think?” Ronnie offered. “Charley you usually don’t get this upset about things. There must have been something else.”
I knew Ronnie was trying to be calm and bring me down a little, but I didn’t want to be calmed down. I stopped pacing and snapped back. “You know what the son of a bitch said to me? He said, and I quote. ‘Charlotte, HONEY, I can’t loan you any money right now, maybe next year.’ The ass called me ‘HONEY’. Can you believe that?”
Now I was on a roll. Ronnie just stood there and let me vent.
“I go to church with the man and sit on the board of the Boys and Girls Club with him, and he treats me like a child. Honey, my ass! I’ve run this bar for five and a half years going on six and, except for last year, we increased profits every year. And we can’t have a lousy $500,000 loan? I’ve got three times as much, no four times, sitting in those vaults of his. He’s using my money to make money and I can’t get a loan?”
“You didn’t offer the insurance money as collateral did you?”
“No, you know I didn’t.”
“Did you explain … about our franchise opportunity?”
“No. It was in the proposal, but he didn’t read the damn thing. He ignored it. He just saw me there and said, ‘No,’ because it was me.”
“Sounds like he underestimated you.”
“He sure as hell did! He thinks because I have boobs and I’m younger than his perky daughter … OK I admit I like Teresa … nevertheless, he thinks because I’m a young woman that I’m stupid. He’ll see … he’ll see.”
“So what are you going to do? The investor group will be here next week. They are expecting to see some plans to expand and develop the bakery concept.”
“I don’t know, Ronnie. I’ll figure something out before they get here. It’s too important for us. I’ll have to see Loomis again, I guess.”
I laughed at a sudden image that crossed my mind. “I guess I’ll have to wear my sexy dress instead of a business suit for our next meeting. What do you think?”
“His heart couldn’t stand it, honey; he’s old enough to be your father.”
“There you go, calling me honey. What is this? National Honey Week? First Loomis and now you!”
I grinned at the thought of flaunting myself in front of the sixty-plus old man.
“Relax Charlotte. Can I fix you a drink? Might help …”
Ronnie’s calm manner was infectious. With a few more paces around the lounge, my body started to relax. I couldn’t help flashing a smile to Ronnie, “No, thanks for letting me vent. It’s good to get it off my chest.”
I put my portfolio down and flopped into one of the plush leather chairs in the lounge area and took a deep breath. “Maybe I will have a Mick Light. Just a small taste.”
As Ronnie stepped behind the bar to draw the draft, I couldn’t let it go. “Ronnie, this is so frustrating. Jimmy’s has so much potential and with the possibility we could expand, it could be huge. Why can’t Loomis see that?”
Ronnie didn’t say anything as he came back with my beer. I was so irritated with the situation.
“Ronnie, tell me honestly, do you think I can handle an expansion of Jimmy’s? We’ve done pretty well, but can I take it any further?”
My friend smiled and just shook his head. I knew what he was going to say, but my confidence needed to hear it again.
“I’ve never seen anyone else take on a challenge like you. If anyone can, you can.”
I appreciate Ronnie; he has always got my back. I sometimes wish he and my Mom had gotten together. Nevertheless, this whole situation left me doubting myself. What makes me think I can handle this business? Maybe Loomis is right! It’s just like my life, I guess. I’m in a real funk and can’t get my stuff going again. Why do I think I can handle a business if I can’t handle my life?
Damn you Randle, why did you have to die? I didn’t marry you for this! I married you for babies and a home in the suburbs, not running a bar!
I covered my thoughts with a smile, “I hope you’re right,”
Ronnie’s normally animated face turned serious. Hoping to cheer him up, I said. “You going to have something to drink?”
“No, you know I can’t … been sober too long to slip now, but I do need to talk to you about tonight.”
Ronnie paused and I knew what he really wanted. We started talking about it at the beginning of the week. “Go ahead Ronnie. I know what you’re going to say, but go ahead.”
Ronnie had been family to me ever since my father bailed out on the family when I was twelve. There was just mom and me. Ronnie and mom had been friends in high school and he seemed eager to fill the void my father left. I never really understood why mom didn’t marry Ronnie. He wasn’t married, but I never saw him kiss mom or even hold her hand. Maybe friendship was more important than love to them.
“Charley, you’re expecting to meet that coach tonight, and I’m afraid your expectations are unrealistic about what might happen. You don’t know anything about his personal life or who he really is. In your emotional condition now, I’m just afraid you’re going to get into something that you can’t handle.”
I knew he was dead serious, but I still loved to tease him. “So you and Loomis both think I can’t handle myself; I’m too young and emotional?”
This was a subject I really did not want to discuss. Ronnie and Wilma, our head waitress, had talked me to death about my plan for tonight. But I listened because the old man loved me.
“Ronnie, I love you. I know what you meant and I love you for it. You’re like my mom, always worried about her little girl. Listen, this is like a blind date, only the coach doesn’t know it yet. I don’t know a lot of things, but I do remember dating and, honestly, I can handle this. If it makes you feel any better, I promise to be careful. Besides, you’ll be hovering around I’m sure.”
“Well okay, I guess that’ll have to do.” Ronnie forced a laugh, but I knew his heart wasn’t in it.
I finished the drink, gathered my stuff and stood up. “I’m going upstairs to change.”
I headed toward the kitchen for the stairs to the second floor apartment. Ronnie followed. “Charley, I don’t like you meeting someone you haven’t seen in years. I think you’re making a mistake. You know the doctor wants you to be careful with relationships.”
Ronnie was shouting, and making one last attempt to change my mind.
I laughed and waved over my head, and continued through the swinging doors to the kitchen. “I love you, too.”
Ronnie might be right; I could be making a mistake. I haven’t seen him in at least six years. So what’s the harm in having dinner with the man? Ronnie is too protective; if something happens after dinner, I can handle it. Heck, I hope something does happen after dinner!
Chapter Two
My apartment above the Bar used to be the home of the Bar’s founder, Jimmy Brewster and Sarah his wife. Their son, Randle lived here before going to college at Tennessee. When Randle and I
got married, we moved to Memphis and back to a small apartment in town a few years later. After Randle’s death, I adopted the apartment as my work home. I live here during the week though my condo is more spacious. I moved some of my things into the apartment and added a few touches, but basically it looked like it has done for at least twenty-five plus years; dark woodwork and muted brown striped wallpaper in the living room and down the hall. Floor lamps, outdated lights and an overstuffed chair and matching sofa, with worn armrest, completed the picture. I didn’t mind the outdated décor. In a way, it was relaxing. Like a flashback to the simpler time of my youth.
The smell of the apartment foyer as I walked in was scrubbed freshness, the handiwork of the restaurant’s staff. The door closed; I never locked it. Anyone entering the apartment had to go through the kitchen downstairs. The staff would intercept anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there. I was safe in my hideaway.
I walked down the hall to my bedroom. At the door, I kicked off my heels and stripped off my suit. I quickly undressed, and tossed my clothes on the unmade bed. I’m not what you would call a neat and tidy person. As I walked to the shower room, I could still feel the sting of Loomis’ comment. I’ll show you who’s a honey!
At least the shower room wasn’t outdated. The shower room was unique. It had been Randle’s bedroom when he lived here with his parents. When he moved out, Jimmy had the room converted to a combination shower and steam room for his wife. The small steam room in the far corner made life bearable for Sarah Brewster, who suffered from a debilitating muscle disease that eventually took her life. The steam relaxed her muscles, and allowed her a few hours of flexibility, before they began to betray and virtually immobilize her.
It was huge, at least eight by eight or nine. I hadn’t measured it. A pallet of pastel colored tiles covered the floor and the walls, to the top of the ten-foot ceiling. Sarah Brewster often told Jimmy that the room reminded her of a peaceful country scene, with mountains in the background, and an inviting, brilliant wild flower lined bubbling brook running through it. She really had a wonderful imagination. I couldn’t see the mountains or the stream, but the room was bright and cheerful. The overhead rain showerhead was offset to the right. There was also a detachable showerhead which allowed Mama Brewster to sit on the oversized bench and bathe after spending time in the steam room. In this room, taking a shower was an experience not just a way to get clean.
Charley Page 2