Chapter 28
It was a beautiful day in South Central Texas, and Charlie was sweatin’ like forty hells up in the Zachsville National Bank. When, in fact, it was a pleasant sixty-eight degrees inside one of the town’s oldest buildings. She was about to have a come-undone right there in the lobby. In spite of her nervous anxiety, she smiled. The longer she was in her hometown, the more and more she sounded like her grandmother.
Her hometown.
She was counting on her ties to the community and her excellent credit to convince the loan officer to take a chance on her. Honestly, it was probably a fool’s errand—who gave a loan to someone with no money? But for better or worse, her nature was to give it a shot, and if she got shut down in the process, then she’d try something else. Maybe she was too stupid to know any better, or maybe she was so determined to take care of her little package that she’d try just about anything.
Thanks, Mom, for putting me in this position.
The flatline sensation she always got when she thought about her mother wrapped around her. Not fury. Not hurt. Just, nothing. You know things are done when someone betrays you so severely that it siphons away all feeling.
Her fingers danced over her lower abdomen. She’d made a promise to The Pod and to herself to be the kind of mother that inspired big love. The kind that stayed with you long after that person was gone. Did she have any idea how to do that? No, but if she accomplished nothing else in her life, she’d figure this one thing out, and wouldn’t stop until she’d learned to do it the best she could. Pod deserved it, and so did she.
“Ms. Klein, Mr. Fitz will see you now,” an older woman with a short brown bob and pink readers on her nose said.
Charlie ran her damp hands down the skirt of her dress and followed the woman.
Mr. Fitz’s office was all hard, masculine lines with rounded feminine corners. Two big chocolate brown leather chairs sat in front of a polished walnut desk, which was decorated with two small stained glass lamps with tassels hanging from the globes.
On one wall were action shots of the Zachsville Raiders football team, along with a signed football with District Champs written on it in black Sharpie.
The other wall was covered in pictures of a black standard poodle. A plaque that read Miss Shoog hung above a photo of the lady herself on a plush red pillow that sat atop a throne. The bedazzled tiara the dog wore and the bouquet of roses at her feet clearly stated that Miss Shoog was the queen of Mr. Fitz’s world. The rest of the photos were of the animal in various poses and outfits. One was of Miss Shoog with several blue ribbons hung around her neck. In one she wore a yellow polka dot bikini and a pair of red sunglasses.
“Charlie Kay!” Mr. Fitz rushed toward her with both hands extended. His big hands engulfed her smaller appendage in an adoring grasp. “It is such a pleasure to meet you.”
It was Klein, but it appeared Mr. Fitz was a fan, and she wouldn’t correct him—not if it could help her.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Fitz.”
“Martin, please.” He stepped back and swept his long arm toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. May I get you a beverage?”
“No. Thank you.”
He moved behind his desk and sat in his large chair. For several long seconds, he only stared at her with an adoring grin on his face. “I just can’t believe I’m meeting the Charlie Kay. Truly it’s like a dream come true. Miss Shoog and I still watch your show.” He ducked his head as if embarrassed. “I know it’s a kid’s show, but the humor is wonderful, and your comedic timing is impeccable.”
The humor on that show was the corniest possible, but to each his own. “Thank you, Mr.—um…Martin.”
He rested his chin on his clasped hands. “So, tell me about your next acting project.”
She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. “I don’t have anything in the works.”
“Oh, really?” He said it like he’d just heard he missed the deadline for Miss Shoog’s next contest.
“It’s true. I’ve retired from show business.”
“What?” The horror in his voice was a living thing. “Say it isn’t so.”
She laughed and shrugged. “Afraid so. I’m moving on with my life here in Zachsville.”
“Oh, well, at least we’ll have you all to ourselves.”
His kind eyes warmed her soul, but she wasn’t interested in being adored. She wanted her loan.
He seemed to get the telepathic message she was sending, because he clapped his hands together and rested them on the desk. “Now, what can we here at Zachsville National Bank help you with today?”
She pulled papers from her purse and slid them across the desk. “Martin, I’d like to apply for a small business loan. This is my business proposal.” She’d googled how to write a business proposal and found a template that had allowed her to not look like a complete idiot when she walked into the banker’s office.
Martin’s eyebrows shot straight up his forehead when she slid the papers to him. “Really?”
“Yes. I’d like to open a lotion and soap emporium here in Zachsville. I’ve already secured the space next to Grant’s Furniture.” Her sweat glands went nuclear as he looked over her proposal.
“I have to tell you, Ms. Kay—”
“Charlie, please.”
The smile he gave her made her wish she had the sunglasses Miss Shoog wore in her bikini photo.
“As I was saying, Charlie, this looks just like something Zachsville needs. With all the additional tourism due to our quarterly festivals, and how the Chamber of Commerce is playing up our famous residents Gavin Bain, Boston Blades star Jackson Carter, and, of course, Charlie Kay, Zachsville is quickly becoming a fun little getaway destination. Did you know Jackson Carter when you lived here?”
“I knew of him. He was older than me.”
Fitz nodded. “Hell of a hockey player. And his mama, Lord, she’s the sweetest woman you’d ever want to meet.”
“So I’ve heard.” She fought the urge to move her hand in a let’s-get-on-with-this motion.
“Just between you and me, you’re our biggest draw, though.”
She bit the inside of her cheek when he gave her a conspiratorial wink. The thrill began in her toes and quickly worked its way up her body. This might actually happen. She’d be able to take care of Pod and herself. That was all she wanted in the world right now. “I’m so glad you think so, Martin.”
“Did you fill out an application online?”
“Yes.”
The click, click, click of the keys and the tiny frown line that crossed his forehead like a warning label leached all of the hope from her stupid heart. “Is there a problem?”
A horrible shade of scarlet slithered up his neck and consumed his face. “Ah… Charlie, your finances are…”
This was it. She took a big gulp of pride and swallowed. “Martin, the truth is my finances are not good.”
He stared at the screen then glanced at her like maybe she didn’t understand the meaning of not good. “That’s one way to put it. Do you mind me asking what happened?”
She didn’t want to go over this with him, but for Pod, she’d lay herself bare. “My mother stole all of my money, Martin. I know it looks bad, but you said yourself that Zachsville has become a tourist destination in part because it’s my hometown. Surely that counts for something.” She bit off another mouthful of pride, and it scraped its way down her throat. “I’m begging you to take a chance on me and give me this loan. I swear, I’ll work harder than anyone else you know. And I’m not completely without resources—my grandfather, who has forty years of experience running a successful business, is going to help me. Also, I have excellent credit.”
“This.” He turned the computer screen toward her. “Is not excellent credit.”
The drive from the bank to her grandfather’s house was a complete blur for Charlie. Martin’s words assaulted her mind the whole way home.
“I’m sorry, even if
I wanted to, I couldn’t loan money to anyone with a credit report as bad as this.”
There was a time she’d been worth more money than she ever knew existed. How was it possible that she could have credit so bad that no one would give her a loan? The answer became blindingly clear when they’d delved into the report. Twenty credit cards had been opened in her name, and only one was actually hers.
One guess as to who’d opened the others. Dear old Mom was number one on the suspect list. Every time she thought she’d gotten to the bottom of her mother’s deception, the hole would open up wider and deeper.
To compound her humiliation, Martin had to instruct her how to contact the credit card companies and credit agency to dispute the ownership of the accounts. Then he’d escorted her to the sheriff’s office so she could file a report. She’d had to endure Hank’s muted pity, which was more than she could stand. No one knew if it would do much good. Her mother was dead, and a few had been opened years ago. The strange thing was that some were still open and active. She’d closed them and requested statements. Hank assured her he’d look into it, but told her that most of the time these things are never solved.
Her grandfather’s house came into view. The contents of her stomach bubbled like rancid sewage. Would opening this store solve all her financial problems? No. In fact, it could make them worse. But at least she’d be doing something. Moving forward. Taking care of her own damn self.
She turned the car off and crossed her forearms on top of the steering wheel, her forehead resting on them. She’d sacrificed her life to her career, and there was nothing to show for it. The only other time she’d ever been this hopeless was boarding the plane to LA that took her away from this life. She was nothing but a washed-up, cautionary tale with another person on the way who was depending on her.
Her dress stretched tight across her breasts reminded her of her situation. Maybe she should tell Hank. At this point, she was going to need help with expenses. But then a horrible thought shook her. What if he tried to take Pod from her? Could that happen? Probably. What the hell did she know about raising a kid? Not to mention the fact that he had a steady job with benefits, and he was married. The sour taste of bile in the back of her throat made her gag. No, she wouldn’t let that happen.
“Darlin’, are you alright?” Honey asked. Her smile must’ve been as watery as it felt because Honey opened the car door and pulled her from the vehicle. “What’s wrong? You look like something the cat dragged in and buried in the litter box.”
All Charlie could do was shrug, which flipped some switch, and the water started flowing.
Honey put her chubby arm around Charlie’s shoulder and led her toward the house. “Oh, darlin’. Things didn’t go well at the bank?”
“No,” slipped out between the tears rolling down her face.
“Come on inside. I’ll fix you a nice glass of lemonade and we’ll all talk.” The screen door screeched when she pulled it open. It sounded how Charlie’s insides felt.
“I don’t want to talk. I just want to go to bed.” And curl up and die, but she didn’t say the last part.
“What in the world is wrong with her?” Her grandfather limped in from the kitchen.
Honey walked her to the sofa. “Things didn’t go well at the bank.”
“What? How is that possible?” Wardell dropped into his recliner. “Who’d you talk to at the bank?”
“Mr. Fitz.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and mopped at her face. “It’s not his fault. He was very nice.”
“Like hell, it’s not his fault. Who in their right mind wouldn’t give you a loan?” He gripped the arms of his chair so hard his fingers turned white.
“Someone who was worried about getting his money back.” The tissue muffled her words, but he and Honey must’ve heard her because they both wore the same confused expression. “My credit is awful. Someone, probably Mom or some of the men she paraded in and out of our house, opened a bunch of credit cards with gigantic limits in my name. Some are maxed out, and some lapsed into nonpayment.” A hiccup caught in her throat. “They wouldn’t loan me a piece of paper, let alone start-up money for a business.”
The golden color from her grandfather’s skin leached from his face. “Shelly did that?”
Anger shot to the top of the list of emotions she was experiencing at his bewildered tone. “Of course she did, Pops. Why would that be a surprise to you? She stole from me, and she stole from you. The only difference in the two of us is that you gave her permission to steal from you.”
“Charlie, you stop that right now.”
Honey’s reprimand had zero effect on her indignation. “I won’t, Honey. He needs to hear this.” She turned to her grandfather. “She was a terrible person, Pops. She used me, sold me out, and she did the same thing to you. But you could’ve stopped her, and you didn’t. You just gave her permission to clean out your account while you looked the other way.”
For a brief second guilt at his disillusioned expression nearly stopped her, but she remembered Pod and let her anger take her further down the rabbit hole. “You let your love for her blind you to who and what she really was, and worst of all, you didn’t see fit to warn me that she was that person.” She rose from the sofa and headed for the stairs.
Wardell grabbed her hand as she passed. “I’m sorry.”
The water pooling in his eyes made her sicker than she already was. “I know you are, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m still broke and pregnant with no way to take care of us.” She made her way upstairs and closed her bedroom door.
The pity party she had planned for herself would have to wait. She needed a nap, a shower, and to get to work. Especially because after the afternoon she’d just had, she needed her job at Boon’s more than ever.
She stripped off her clothes and crawled into bed. Her arms went around her belly that was getting bigger every day, and curled around her baby. Who knew what would happen in June, but for now Pod was safe and sound with her.
Charlie clawed her way out of a nightmare. She’d never been one for naps, but since Pod came into her life, she’d become a world-class napper. The only downside was the daytime nightmares. Nothing worse than a bad dream in the middle of the day.
The foggy vision of her building a house for herself and Pod out of mud in the pouring rain slowly dissipated. Her rapid breaths sawed in and out until she got her bearings.
She stumbled to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower to loosen her knotted muscles. The scent of the new soap she’d made for peace and tranquility filled the steamy shower. Grapefruit, lavender, and peppermint swirled around her and helped as much as the hot water to soothe the aftershocks of the bad dream. A little ginger wouldn’t hurt anything, and she made a mental note to add some to the next batch of Calm she made. Though she wouldn’t need much, since she’d just be making small quantities for herself and the few stores that carried her products since the bank declined her loan application.
The low-level panic she’d lived with since the day she first peed on the stick cranked up a notch or two. What would she do? She had no real skills, and there were so many things she didn’t know how to do, including being an adult.
Thank you, Hollywood.
La-La Land was a mythical place. Nothing was real in LA. Everything was an illusion, manufactured and manipulated for the public’s enjoyment. The problem came when people started believing the illusion was real. She’d fallen victim to that way of thinking. Hard not to when that was the diet you’re fed from the time you step into that wonderland.
She needed to hurry. The package on the dresser in her room made her smile in spite of the day she’d had. She’d ordered some maternity Daisy Duke shorts. Oh, the irony. Daisy Duke shorts were, by definition, sexy, but these bad boys were anything but. The stretchy material in the front was hideous, but at least she’d have blood flow to her lower extremities.
A dash of makeup, with a little contouring to help disguise t
he fact that her face was growing rounder by the day, and she was ready. She rummaged through her purse, procrastinating. The conversation with her grandfather that needed to happen before she left for work loomed in front of her like a regret-filled cloud. She shouldn’t have yelled at him. That one thing propelled her from the room. She needed to apologize.
She found him in the kitchen making himself a sandwich. “Where’s Honey?”
The tinkling sound of salty chips being poured on a plate made her mouth water. “She’s singin’ at a weddin’ this weekend and had to go rehearse for it.”
The chair she pulled out scraped against the worn linoleum. “Pops, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Will you forgive me?”
He set his sandwich aside and took her hands. “Of course I will, but you didn’t do anything to warrant forgiveness. I always had a blind spot when it came to your mama. Everything you said was true, and I want to make that up to you.” He reached into his back pocket and retrieved an envelope, which he slid across the table to her.
“What’s this?”
He took a bite of his ham and cheese. “Open it.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed, so she flipped it open and withdrew the bundle of papers. She knew what it was as soon as she unfolded the pages. “No.”
His watery blue eyes watched her over the rim of his iced tea glass. “Yes.”
She shoved the envelope and its contents at him. “No, Pops. I won’t let you do this.”
He shrugged. “It’s already done.”
“Pops, I won’t let you mortgage your house in order for me to get this loan. That’s crazy.” She couldn’t control the tremble in her hands as she tried again to give him the envelope.
His warm, calloused, and wrinkled hand covered hers. “Charlie, I’m partially responsible for why you had to apply for this loan in the first place, and more than a little responsible for the person your mama turned out to be. I knew she couldn’t be trusted and I gave her access to that account anyway.” He fiddled with the edges of the envelope. “I raised her, and we never let her experience the consequences of her bad behavior. We just came behind her and cleaned up her messes. That’s why she always felt she was entitled to what everyone else had, including her father and daughter, and it ruined her and cost her her life.”
Brides on the Run (Books 1-4) Page 67