Down And Out In Flamingo Beach

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“Perfect.”

He stood silently, his jeans hugging his high butt, the knees threadbare, watching her spread a quilt over the table before folding and arranging the others. Without asking, Derek began arranging the sales items so that they were attractively laid out and could be seen.

“How about I tack the sale sign right up there?” he asked pointing to the back wall that badly needed a coat of paint.

“That would be great. Was there something you wanted?”

Derek took a hammer from the tool belt around his waist and pulled a nail from one of his pockets.

“Actually I came by to inquire as to how your grandmother is? Nana’s been working herself up asking questions about your gran that neither me nor her companion can answer.”

It made Joya feel good that her grandmother had friends who worried about her.

“Tell Belle Granny J’s going to be fine. How did she find out my grandmother was in the hospital?”

“Not much escapes anyone in this town,” Derek said over his shoulder.

Joya’s eyes were fastened on Derek’s wide shoulders and tapered waist. Where there were actual holes in the old jeans, you could see navy-blue underwear. Boxers actually. How many men today could pull off boxers and look sexy in them?

Derek pounded the nail into the wall and positioned the sign.

“What about right here?”

“Yes, that looks good. Thanks for all your help. Want a cup of coffee? I have a fresh pot brewing.” She didn’t know what made her extend the invitation, except that good manners dictated it. Much as she wasn’t looking to start a friendship, Derek had come to her rescue at a time when she needed it.

Derek dusted off his hands. “I’ll take a rain check. Gotta get back to work.” He scanned the porch as if looking for someone. “Don’t you have sales help?”

“Sore subject.”

His words were a reminder that she needed to do something about those two. Granny J had put up with the two unreliable women, but that didn’t mean she had to. They weren’t exactly assets to the business. They weren’t dependable and they sorely lacked customer-service skills. There was nothing like bad service to bring down a business.

Derek headed down the steps and then turned back. “Have you given any thought to what we discussed? You’ve got a pretty tight timeline to get back to us.”

It took a second or two for Joya to figure out what he was getting at.

“I’d been hoping to talk to Gran when she gets out of the hospital, but maybe I’ll do some preliminary investigation myself. What’s the latest I can get back to you?”

“The end of the week. Shore Construction is booking quickly.”

A gruff male voice called from next door. “Morse, where the hell are you? No one said you could take a coffee break.”

“I’d better get back,” Derek said quietly.

In the next half hour several passersby spotted the sales sign and wandered in. Joya sold two quilts and one of the pillows. At around ten-thirty Deborah and LaTisha were still not there.

Joya called both women but neither answered. She was at the end of her patience by then. The tourist with the redheaded children from yesterday came back, surprising Joya by buying one of the more expensive quilts and expressing interest in having one custom made. The woman was from Michigan. Joya took all of her relevant information, found out how long she was staying and promised to be in touch.

Right before lunch there was a brief lull in sales and Joya used that time to move the remaining sales items back indoors. She locked the store and decided to take the money to the bank. It would be a good opportunity to talk to Bill Brown, the loan officer. She might as well be properly informed if she was going to sell Granny J on the idea of applying for a loan.

There were long lines in front of the three tellers when Joya entered the lobby of the Flamingo Beach Credit Union. The credit union had been around forever, and despite another major bank opening up a branch, locals did most of their banking here where they were comfortable.

The three tellers were an institution, women close to sixty who knew everyone and needless to say everyone’s business. Joya scanned the area in front of Bill Brown’s office and was relieved to see that only one other person was waiting.

Joya signed the paper on the clipboard and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs. Ten minutes later the middle-aged man seated across from her was ushered into Bill’s glassed-in office by his secretary, Marlene Miller, whom no one dared call anything other than Miss Miller. She was an aging spinster, way past retirement age.

“Mr. Brown will be with you shortly,” Miss Miller said to Joya. “The senior Mrs. Hamill has sent you on her behalf, I assume?”

Joya nodded. To tell the old biddy it was none of her business would cause more trouble than it was worth. Since Joya’s Quilts needed a loan it was best to suck it up. It would serve no purpose to alienate this woman.

“What you doing here, girl?” a high-pitched female voice called from across the room, capturing the attention of everyone waiting for the tellers. “If I knew I’d run into you we could have scheduled lunch or something.”

Today wasn’t her day, Joya decided, watching her ex-husband’s fiancée, exuberant as ever, come bouncing over. Chere had lost at least sixty pounds and although by no means skinny, appeared confident and sexy. Not that Joya disliked Chere, far from it. You couldn’t help liking a woman who kept it real and called it like she saw it.

Joya met her halfway and the two women exchanged kisses. “Hi Chere, you look great as always. “How are the wedding plans coming?”

Chere rolled her eyes. “I never thought it required so much planning. You’re coming, right? And you’re bringing a date?

Joya assured her she was. She’d have to come up with a date somewhere.

Chere continued loudly, oblivious to who might overhear. “The Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort is really starting to tick me off. They’re fighting me all the way over my entrée choices. I want to serve chicken, pork chops and steak. That’s what Black people like, food that sticks to the ribs. I told that caterer it’s my damn wedding and I can serve what I want. At least I did find a dress I like.” Chere tapped her plump middle. “It even makes my stomach look flat. And the photographer is all lined up and the deejay. As for centerpieces, well that’s a whole other story.”

“I’d think Chet and Harley of All About Flowers should be able to hook you up with the bouquets and table arrangements, no?” Joya tried not to burst into laughter as Chere did another eye roll.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But they’re acting like it’s a big deal because I want to keep things simple. I don’t want no orchids or any of that stuff.”

“What do you want?”

“Balloons, lots of them and candles, maybe just a couple of flowers here and there, nothing fancy. It’s my celebration. I never thought this day would happen.”

This time Joya did laugh out loud. It was good that they could chat like this, she thought. This must mean she was finally over Quen. Chere was obviously happy. She and Quen, though total opposites, were a good fit. Chere brought out the best in Quen. Joya should only be so lucky to find someone that completed her the way Quen did Chere.

“Miss Joya, Mr. Brown can see you now.”

The two women kissed again. Joya, escorted by the over-vigilant Miss Miller, entered Bill Brown’s office.

Bill, a man in his early forties, on the paunchy side and graying, presided behind a big oak desk with several golfing trophies on it. The wall behind him was glass and looked down on the busy main street. He stood when Joya entered.

“Just look at you. I remember when you were about this big. Knee-high to a grasshopper,” he said, holding his hand palm down.

Bill was only a decade older than Joya, but his gray hair made him look much older.

She smiled graciously and shook the hand he held out. The preliminaries over with, Bill waved her to an overstuffed chair on the other side of the desk before sitting down again. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I hear the bank is offering business owners interest-free loans to spruce up their properties. Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true. With the upcoming centennial only a few months away, we hoped to make Flamingo Beach a showplace. What surprises me is that your grandmother didn’t take advantage of our offer. I assumed maybe financial difficulties and pride kept her from applying.”

“Financial difficulties? What do you mean?”

A flutter of panic began in Joya’s gut. Granny J had never said a word about having money problems. It wasn’t until the two irresponsible saleswomen had claimed not to have been paid that Joya had sensed something might be wrong.

“From your expression I gather this is news to you,” Bill Brown said rising and pouring them two cups of water from a pitcher. He handed Joya one.

She nodded, finally managing, “Just how bad is it?”

Brown stroked his smooth chin. “Well, let’s see. Your grandmother came in about a year ago to get an equity line of credit. She was keeping up fine and then a couple of months ago she began falling behind.”

“I see,” Joya said, although she didn’t see at all. “Exactly how much money does Granny owe?”

Bill turned his attention to the monitor on his desk, pecking on his keyboard. He made some rapid calculations and eventually named a figure.

It wasn’t an astronomical amount. Joya had enough from today’s sale to pay up the loan and still have a few dollars in reserve.

Joya fished in her purse, removed the envelope holding this morning’s take from the sales, and carefully counted the bills out. She separated the money into two piles.

“I’m here to make the payments on that loan,” she said, “I don’t have Granny J’s book with me. I’m also here to discuss getting one of those low-interest loans with you.”

Bill pushed a button on the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Brown,” came Marlene Miller’s querulous voice.

“Will you come in, please.”

Miss Miller entered and stood reverently before Bill’s desk.

“Will you please deposit this money in Mrs. Hamill’s equity account,” Bill said, “The other money goes to her checking. Bring me back both receipts.” He scribbled what Joya assumed were both account numbers on a yellow pad, tore out the sheet, and handed it to Marlene.

“Certainly.” Tossing a curious look Joya’s way, Miss Miller turned and left them.

“So you wanted to talk about a loan?” Bill Brown said.

“Yes, I do. The stores around Granny’s shop are all being renovated. I don’t want Granny J to miss out. She’s owned her property for almost as long as Flamingo Beach has been around. It would be a shame to let it go down.”

“I agree.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Bill told Joya about the loan options and the terms available. He told her she could fill out her application online and that she would receive approval in less than twenty-four hours.

“Will Gran’s delinquent payments affect her getting this loan?” Joya asked. “You did say she was dutifully making the payments up until a couple of months ago?”

“Your granny has been a very good customer of the credit union. Except for the equity line, she owns the building out right.”

Marlene Miller was back, handing her tangible proof of the transactions. “That copy has your grandmother’s balance,” she quickly pointed out.

Joya thanked her and stood. Bill, always the gentleman, stood and followed her to the door. He handed Joya a couple of folders.

“Read this information and discuss it with Mrs. Hamill, then get back to us. You have my personal guarantee you will have your loan.”

After shaking Bill Brown’s hand and thanking him, Joya left.

As Joya came up the walkway she spotted Deborah and LaTisha, both looking somewhat put out. They sat on the porch step, gazing out onto the street.

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” LaTisha pouted.

A slight exaggeration. Joya had only been gone for maybe an hour.

“You’re late for work,” Joya said, not cutting them any slack. “If you’d been here on time I wouldn’t have had to lock up.”

“It’s payday. We need our money,” both said in unison.

Deborah stood, stretching. “You owe us for two weeks plus this week.”

Joya had been prepared for something like this. She had the feeling these two had been getting away with murder for quite sometime.

“You haven’t worked this week,” she quickly pointed out.

“I did,” LaTisha hastened to say.

“Half a day and barely,” Joya countered. “Let’s go inside.”

The business could remain closed for another fifteen minutes while she did what she needed to do. She was going to make an executive decision and not consult Granny J.

Joya was betting both women were minimum-wage employees. She did some rapid calculations. What was left of the proceeds of this morning’s sale would barely cover two weeks’ salary for both ladies, and if she were to give them another two days’ pay as a token, it would pretty much clean the business account out.

But the afternoon was young and she was counting on selling the remainder of the sale items plus a few new ones. She unlocked the front door and allowed both women to precede her in. Then she locked the door behind her.