Chapter 6
N
orell put down her magazine in disgust. In an article about the influx of babies being born to celebrities, a popular actor's wife had been quoted as saying, “A child is the most wonderful thing that can happen to a parent.” Considering that children were what gave parents their status in the first place, it was a rather silly statement. Clearly the new mother was overjoyed, and in her happiness probably hadn't realized how inane her comment sounded, but Norell didn't see why the editor didn't catch it and change “parent” to “person,” which was surely the original intent. Maybe it was a little dishonest, but surely the interviewer could have prompted the woman into correcting herself so she wouldn't look like such a waterhead when the article was published. She wondered if the interviewer had left it that way on purpose.
Norell knew she had no cause to get all worked up about such a minute detail, but she recognized that it came from her own frustration. It had been a whole week, and Vic hadn't said anything about going to see the doctor. She had proceeded with her own workup, and she was feeling reasonably confident that the problem rested with her, based on the preliminary findings of a blocked fallopian tube and a uterus so tilted it was practically lying on its side. What disturbed her was Vic's lack of interest in a subject of utmost importance to her. It was just fine for her to see to the needs of his daughters when they came for their twice-monthly weekend visits, but not for him to help her conceive offspring of her own, and Norell thought that stank.
She went ahead and scheduled surgery to have her fallopian tubes unblocked. She'd already alerted Dana and Cécile, assuring them that it wasn't a major procedure and would only require two weeks of recuperation. She waited to inform Vic, since his daughters were coming for the weekend and she didn't want them to come into a tense atmosphere, just in case he took it badly.
Instead she made a special effort to be nice to the girls. Jessica was fifteen and Amber thirteen, both sweet kids. At first they'd been wary and viewed her as a threat when she and Vic were just dating, but they accepted her eventually and sometimes even asked for her advice. Both were old enough to remember when their parents lived harmoniously under the same roof, and Norell had heard it said that children of divorced parents always held out hopes of a reconciliation, no matter how long ago or how bitter the divorce. Vic also had a son from an early relationship before he was married, who lived in Orlando near his mother.
On Sunday evening Norell declined to go along when Vic brought the girls home. He would undoubtedly go inside for a few minutes and talk with his ex-wife, Phyllis. Norell had met her predecessor once, shortly after she and Vic exchanged vows in a local wedding chapel. He said his children's mother deserved to be acquainted with their new stepmother, and she agreed he had a point. The key word was “acquainted.” No one expected them to be best buddies. At the time Phyllis had been divorced from Vic for four years. Brown skinned and pretty, with dimples and what was generally referred to as “good bones,” she also carried about eighty extra pounds on her short frame. Norell instinctively knew a direct link existed between Phyllis's weight problem and her status as a divorced woman. When Norell delicately asked Vic what had gone wrong in his marriage, he mumbled something about them having grown apart and her just not turning him on anymore. Subtlety had never been one of Vic's strong points; he'd practically come out and said she had gotten fat as a pig.
Fortunately, weight had never been a problem for Norell. In the fifteen months she and Vic had been married, she had retained her figure to the pound. She went to the gym daily and took a half-hour step aerobics class, then, after resting a bit, spent another ten minutes on the moving stepper without missing a beat. Not turning Vic on wasn't a problem; he could hardly keep his hands off her. Actually, other than Vic's indifference to her current plight, she had no complaints about her marriage or her life. She lived a good life, yes, but she was still a very important step short of living happily ever after, the way she'd always dreamed of.
She finished the sandwich she'd made from last night's roast chicken and rinsed her plate in the sink. Then she refilled her glass, this time with filtered water instead of Sprite, and strolled back to the office in front of the house.
The ringing phone startled the quiet of the house. Norell picked up the receiver and heard Dana joyously announce, “It's official! I've got a tenant!”
Norell was immediately caught up in Dana's happiness. “Dana, that's wonderful! Who?”
“Cécile's sister, Micheline. She's moved up here from West Palm. She just got a job, and she's moving in Saturday. It won't be long-termâshe says eventually she'll want to rent an apartmentâbut at least I can count on her for the next month. I offered her a discount if she paid for the entire month up front, and she took it. She gave me four hundred and fifty dollars.”
“But Saturday isn't the beginning of the month, Dana.”
“For rent purposes we agreed that a month would be thirty days from the day she moves in.”
“Wow. First the loan, now the tenant. It looks like things are really falling into place for you.” Happy as she was for Dana, Norell couldn't help feeling a little left out. Dana had a renter for her spare room, and Cécile's sister, whom Norell had not met, had a new job. When would
her
luck change, damn it?
Dana continued in the bubbly manner that should have been infectious but couldn't penetrate Norell's blues. “I'm just thrilled. I was hoping you and Cécile could come over Friday and discuss our plan of action.”
“Sure.”
“Good. I know it's time for you to get back to work, and I've got to pick up my loan check and sign the papers. I'll be in touch.”
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Dana turned up the volume of the Marilyn Scott CD and sang along as she drove to the bank. Everything was truly going to be all right now. Cutting her hand had seemed like a kiss of death at the time, but being unable to work had forced her to formulate a plan and take action instead of standing by idly, watching her world disintegrate.
A white Eclipse passed her in the opposite direction, reminding Dana that she had three angels looking out for her: Her mother, her sister, and now Kenny.
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“I'm here to pick up my loan check,” Dana informed the receptionist, realizing too late that Gil hadn't told her who to ask for. “I guess I need to see someone in the loan department.”
“What's your name, miss?”
“Dana Covington.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Albacete asked to see you when you came in. Just a moment, please.” The receptionist discreetly got Gil on the line and nodded in affirmation. “You can go right back. Do you remember where his office is?”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.”
Gil looked up when she tapped on his open office door. He broke into a broad grin. “Congratulations, Miss Business Owner.”
“Oh, thank you. I appreciate everything you've done for me, Gil.” By now he had risen and walked around his desk to meet her, and she shook his hand. “In addition to making a recommendation to the loan officer, I've got a hunch you rushed it through.”
“May first will be here before you know it,” he said with a smile.
Dana glanced at his desk. “Am I signing the papers here in your office?”
“No. Actually, you'll sign the papers and get the check from the loan department upstairs. I asked reception to send you to me to see if you would allow me to take you for a celebration lunch.” His stomach growled a perfect punctuation. “Excuse me,” he said sheepishly. “It is about that time, you know.”
“Yes, I know. And I'd love to have lunch. Of course, I don't know how long it'll take me to sign the papers upstairs. The loan officer assigned to my paperwork might have gone out to lunch himself.”
“That won't be a problem. The officers always sign the papers ahead of time. If yours is at lunch, another will explain them to you and tell you where to sign. When dealing with small loans like yours, we can be a little less rigid.” He guided her the few steps to the door. “When you're done, just let the receptionist know, and I'll be right out.”
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They went to Copeland's, where they ordered po'boy sandwiches, shrimp for Dana and catfish for Gil.
“So you're calling yourselves CDN Transcription,” he remarked. “Let me guessâthe initials of you and your partners?”
“Yes. We started with DNC, in the order of which we came aboard. But we decided it sounded too much like a gynecological procedure, so we played around until we found something that sounded nicer.”
“Have you taken steps to formally organize?”
“Oh, yes. We've got a business license, a logo, business cards, invoice forms, stationery, and a bank account.” Dana gasped. That last part just slipped out.
“Ah-hah! And you didn't open your business account with us.” Gil nodded knowingly.
She shrugged. “Actually, one of my partners found a bank that offers very favorable terms to small businesses like ours.” Then she giggled. “Your bank already has just about every cent I have in the world. You don't have to have it all, do you?”
“No, I guess not. It's the businessman in me. It sounds like CDN is going to have impressive receivables, and naturally I'd like them to be deposited at my bank.”
“I guess I should have come to you first,” Dana said apologetically.
“No big deal. Are you planning to incorporate?”
“Yes, the paperwork has been initiated. We've also registered our company name with the State of Florida, so we're good for the time being.”
“It sounds like you ladies really have it together.” He smiled at her across the table. “How's your sandwich?”
“Oh, it's wonderful. I almost feel like I'm in New Orleans.”
“New Orleans is one of my favorite cities. I wouldn't want to live there, not even before the hurricane, but I try to get there at least every other year. Incidentally, I was going to ask if you would consider letting Brittany come with Vanessa and me this summer. Vanessa will enjoy it much better if she has a friend along her own age.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Dana said. “The French Quarter can be a little racy for kids their age, don't you think?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Which is why I never stay too close to Bourbon Street. But I promise you I'd get a suite in a good-quality hotel, someplace where they'd be perfectly safe if I chose to go out on my own for a few hours. And I'm driving, so there would be no plane fare involved,” he added.
Dana wiped her mouth with a corner of the napkin. “In that case, I guess it'll be okay.”
He leaned in a little closer, suggesting he was about to say something from the heart. “You know, Dana, Vanessa really gets a lot of comfort from her girlfriends since Irene and I broke up, and of course Brittany is her closest friend.”
“I can probably say the same about Vanessa since Kenny's accident. I think they're both very fortunate to have each other to help them through their respective hard times.”
“I agree.” Gil pushed his plate toward the edge of the table. “Hey, how about sharing an order of bananas Foster?”
Dana enjoyed the dessert. She rarely imbibed and couldn't identify which liquor flavored the sauce, but she liked it, whatever it was. When the waiter placed a single bill near Gil's end of the table she reached for her wallet. “I'll pay half.”
“Put your wallet away. I invited you, remember?”
The outside parking lot was full, and they had parked near but not next to each other. Standing behind her cream-colored Camry, Dana fished through her purse for her keys. “That was fun, Gil. Thanks to you, I really feel like the sky's the limit, that anything's possible.” She held out her hand, and he took it, but instead of shaking it, he moved in for a friendly hug that somehow seemed much more appropriate. Dana allowed herself to close her eyes for just a few seconds while inhaling the pleasing blend of his cologne and his male scent. For a fleeting moment, she wished she had put on a little bit of fragrance herself. She knew she didn't smell unpleasant, but it would have been nice to give off something a little more tantalizing than Lever soap.
Not that it mattered, of course. Gil Albacete was just a friend.