Forever Friday (23 page)

“You will protect me.”

“Always.” His face remained stern. “But I said
no
.“

Not believing what she was hearing, Huck felt her cheeks grow hot. She fought back tears. “We’ve never been apart for one day, much less five. And more than that will be an eternity.”

“I thought you said it was my duty.”

“If it’s that dangerous, then it’s
my
duty to go with you. We’ve always faced life together.” Huck knew she was being selfish. But so was Gabe.

“Honey, I have no choice,” Gabe said softly.

“No choice? You’re a top accountant, and Gulf wouldn’t dare fire you if you refused. They’d just send someone else.”

“Until the economy rebounds,” he continued, “we should be thankful to even have jobs.” He lit another cigarette. “The boys downtown say this depression is gonna get worse before it gets better.” He shook his head. “Never know what might happen, especially in a lawless place like Kilgore.”

For the next few minutes, neither spoke. Turning her back, Huck ignored his negative silence, even though her initial excitement waned. She hadn’t really considered the danger and knew Gabe was right about their jobs. After the stock market crashed two years ago on Black Tuesday, thousands of people across America had been sleeping in rail cars and standing in soup lines. Houston had taken a glancing blow. Most Texans were lucky.

“I agree about our jobs,” Huck said finally. “And you’re right, we don’t know what will happen next.” She faced him, then spoke, her voice trembling. “That’s why I need to go with you. What if something … happens?”

“It won’t.” Gabe stiffened. “You’re not going and that’s the end of it.”

“Don’t you even care about my feelings?”

“Not as much as I care about you.”

“My feelings are me!” Huck shouted as fear transformed into anger. “What about our agreement?”

“What agreement?”

“That we’d always discuss our problems and come to a mutual solution.”

“We have. The answer is no.”

“But it’s not mutual!”

“Yes it is. I’ve decided for us both. Now go cool down before saying something you might regret.”

It was Gabe’s constant level of controlled calm that made her the angriest. The heartbeat of hot blood pounded inside her ears. It made her want to curse.

“And think pleasant thoughts,” he added. “You’ll feel better.”

“Pleasant thoughts?” Huck muttered. “Think pleasant thoughts?” She marched down the hallway. “That’s what an adult would tell a child. Well … If Gabe wants a child, I’ll show him one.”

She stomped into the kitchen and faced the cabinets.

Open. Open. Open. Open.

Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!

Huck flung open four more kitchen cabinets, reared back, and slammed them shut like rapid machine-gun fire. Dishes rattled. If some of their precious china shattered, then so be it. How dare Gabe refuse to let her witness the largest oil boom in the history of the country. Thrill to the sight of a mighty wooden derrick on every street corner. Step into the instant wealth and excitement of a town boasting the world’s richest acre.

Huck reopened the first four cabinets, paused, and listened. She heard no reaction from Gabe. He was still sitting on the love seat, she thought. Still frowning. Still smoking. After five years of marriage, the man could be so … so frustrating!

Huck’s third round of cabinet slamming channeled her anger into an idea. Actually, it was a
pleasant thought
. On Monday she’d take her own daring excursion. Not to a place as wild as Kilgore, but one rich in resources.

First National Bank.

She’d visit their joint savings account and then enjoy a little wardrobe shopping spree. As in solving relationship problems, they’d agreed that withdrawing from savings would be a
mutual
decision. A decision
she
would gladly make for them both.

Huck laughed. Gabe was right again. She did feel better. And later, when he left for Kilgore, she’d even consider kissing him good-bye.

By eleven a.m. Monday, the mercury in downtown Houston already hovered near ninety degrees. Huck exited the stuffy streetcar, thankful that First National Bank was on the shaded side of Main. Pausing in front of a glass storefront, she checked her reflection.

Good.

She didn’t look too exhausted. Two sleepless nights worrying about Gabe’s safety had tired her body but reawakened a simmering indignation. How dare he ignore their rule about shared decisions and refuse to take her to Kilgore.

Refuse!

Weren’t shared experiences and decisions fundamental in avoiding The Long Division, or had Gabe abandoned the concept and not told her? It seemed her opinion no longer mattered.

At first, shopping seemed fair retribution. But after stewing over
the entire affair for forty-eight hours, she decided money drawn from their savings account would only be a small down payment toward what she’d later refuse him.

She checked her appearance one last time, then strode the half block to the bank’s entrance. Being properly dressed was important, especially for a woman doing business. Everyone knew that a disheveled dress meant a distorted mind.

“Mornin’, ma’am.” A doorman tipped his hat. “Gonna be another hot day.”

“Scorching.” Huck forced a weak smile, passing through double brass doors to a row of mahogany cashier cages.

“May I help you?” A bald teller sporting a thin mustache snapped to attention.

“Good morning. I’m Mrs. Gabe Alexander.”

“Of course. And Mr. Alexander?” The teller peered in both directions.

“He’s doing well.” Huck managed another smile. “I’d like to withdraw twenty-five dollars from our savings.”

“Absolutely. I’ll just need to look up your account.” He stepped over to an enormous ledger.

After opening her purse, Huck retrieved the list of stores she planned to visit. Twenty-five dollars was much more than she’d spend, but it never hurt to be prepared. And with the entire day at her disposal, there was no telling what might catch her fancy.

“Um … Mrs. Alexander?” The teller returned. “Mr. Alexander will be joining you, I assume?”

“No. He’s away on business.”

“I see.” The teller paused, then spoke in a low tone. “Are you aware that withdrawing funds from this account requires his signature?”

“But it’s in both our names.”

“Your checking account is in both names, not savings.”

“I’m positive you’re incorrect.” Other customers were now in line. Huck felt herself begin to perspire. “Please double-check your records.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat. The week after they married, all of their personal accounts had been switched to joint ownership.

The teller reappeared. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Alexander,” he whispered. “The account
is
in Mr. Alexander’s name, thus his signature must accompany the transaction. It’s bank policy.”

“But I’m his wife. There must be some mistake.”

“Obviously.”

Chuckles erupted from the growing line.

“I … I didn’t mean it’s a mistake you’re his wife,” he stammered. “I’m sure Mr. Alexander is a very lucky man.” He rubbed his bare head. “However, the proper signature is bank policy.”

“Then I insist on speaking with your supervisor,” Huck commanded, her strict tone reminiscent of dealing with an unruly student.

“But ma’am, my supervisor is—”

“In a meeting,” interrupted a smooth voice from her past. “Now isn’t this a lovely surprise.”

Huck’s heart froze. She recognized the scent of familiar aftershave before she met his gaze. But it was the timbre of his voice that had first punched her in the stomach. “Why … Clark Richards?” She swallowed
hard, as panic invaded the corners of her mind. “You said in your letter that you’d relocated to Chicago.”

“That’s where my wife and son live.” He chuckled. “The financial industry requires that the road be my home, at least for now. Last week, I examined banks here in Houston. This afternoon, I move on.”

“I see.” He was thinner than she remembered. And even though he was smiling, his eyes mirrored a hint of sadness. She quieted her voice so the people in line wouldn’t hear her. “Perhaps you should just
move on
, as you say. Our business finished long ago.”

“It was extremely long ago, and I apologized and even begged your forgiveness … in my letter.” Clark seemed sincere but hurt. “A letter you never answered.”

Huck felt her knees weaken. “You attend to your day and I’ll attend to mine.”

“The joy of my day is serving the public.” Clark smiled.

The teller craned his neck forward. “I don’t mean to intrude, but—”

Clark frowned. “Mrs. Alexander may withdraw whatever amount she wishes and I’ll sign for it. Understood?”

“That’s generous, Clark, but please don’t go to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Just doing my job.”

“But sir? First National Bank’s policy states—”

Clark cut him off. “My signature overrides unforgiving policy.” He grinned broadly at the teller. “A bank’s business is to serve the public, even if it means bending the rules. I suggest you do
your
job and remember that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well then,” Clark said. “I believe enough of Mrs. Alexander’s valuable time has been wasted. To avoid her further delay, place the cash in an envelope with her name on it to be picked up later. She’ll be joining me at Club Prosperity for lunch.”

“I most certainly will not,” Huck said, quiet but firm, feeling a surge of strength in her knees.

“Nonsense. It’s the least one friend can do for another.” He smiled. “We are still friends, correct?”

Huck could feel the people in line staring. “May we please not discuss this here?”

“My thoughts exactly.” He turned to the teller. “She’ll take her withdrawal without delay.”

“Thank you,” Huck replied, when the teller handed her an envelope. She stepped away from the teller’s cage and faced Clark. “I’ll be on my way. My streetcar will be arriving soon. Take care of yourself.”

“It may be decades before I see you again, if ever. So may I escort you to the proper corner? It’s the least I can do.”

Huck thought for a moment. It would be rare for their paths to cross, especially if Gabe had a say in it. She was still furious with him.

“Only to the corner,” she said.

On the way to the stop, Clark spoke tenderly about his wife and child and asked so sweetly about her parents. He even inquired about Gabe. So instead of lunch, she agreed on something cool to drink.

Huck had heard tales of the lavish Club Prosperity, with its 360-degree view of the city, but had never been invited to partake. And even though
Prohibition still reigned, the alcohol flowed freely among petroleum financiers, stockbrokers, ranchers, and bankers. Before Huck knew it, she was sipping rum punch, and Clark had ordered lunch.

“Tell me about your wife and son,” Huck said. She felt a little guilty enjoying lobster bisque without Gabe, but leaving her at home had been his decision. And the punch was delicious.

“Haroldson Lafayette Richards.” Clark sipped scotch and smiled. “Named my boy after H. L. Hunt.”

“The Texas oil tycoon?”

“The one and only. Before long, Hunt will be the richest man in the United States. He just opened his own pipeline. This time next year, most of the black gold wealth in East Texas will ride in his back pocket. I’m headed that direction this afternoon.”

“East Texas?”

Clark laughed. “There’s a bank in Kilgore that wants to drill an oil well right through the expensive terrazzo floor in their lobby. It’s my job to make sure no funny business is involved.”

“Kilgore?” Huck couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Oh, you know how the papers blow everything out of proportion. I’m sure there’s been some petty thievery, but most of it’s rumors.”

Huck smiled. “You’re not going to believe this … Gabe is in Kilgore.”

“I heard you say he was away on business, but I had no idea. What oil outfit is he with?”

“Gulf. He landed an executive position.”

“That’s strange. Most corporations don’t send their top dogs out into the field.”