Chapter 12: Taming Mrs. Collingworth

Returning home from Florida always required an adjustment to the system. The change in outside temperature was one thing, but on this day there was also light snow to contend with. It was quite late on Friday night when I drove Ned's car home and put it in the garage. Finding my answering machine flashing was expected. It was the number of messages that surprised me. I returned the last one first.

"Sammy, are you at home? Did you just get there?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm back."

"Good! Penelope wants you to know she left a dinner for you in the freezer. It's leftovers from the meal she served on Monday. You'll need to microwave it, Honey."

"Please tell Penelope I said thanks."

"Have fun tomorrow."

"I will, Mom," I said, and heard Suzanne giggle like a schoolgirl before she said goodbye.

The next call was to Heather, who had left five messages over the last forty-eight hours. The person that answered told me I'd called a pay phone and it took several tries describing my sister before the person recognized whom I was talking about.

Heather came to the phone, wanting to know why I hadn't sent the money I'd promised for December. Needless to say, Andy had not won a single event yet. I pointed out that there were still four days remaining in November, but it fell on deaf ears. Heather said they needed money now and I agreed to wire her two hundred and fifty dollars, to be followed by five hundred per week over the next three weeks. "You can expect the last two hundred and fifty after I know you've gotten home in time to celebrate your son's fourth birthday."

"Why can't you send the two thousand you promised, Sammy? Don't you trust me?" she asked, sounding dead serious.

I verified the address she'd given me, told her she could expect the two hundred and fifty dollars to arrive within the hour and hung up without answering her question about trusting her.

I took care of wiring the money before returning the next call. Mrs. Collingsworth told me to be at her house at eight-thirty the next morning because we had a full schedule ahead of us. "We'll drive the black car," she said, ending the call without inquiring about my Florida trip or warning me what would happen to me if I ever squeezed her breast again.

After clearing my answering machine, I had dinner alone and watched the late news before retiring. I got up early to find two inches of snow on the ground and thirty-one degrees showing on the thermometer.

Knowing that it was unlikely Mrs. Collingsworth would want to stop for lunch, I headed for a small café that served breakfast at any hour. The place was crowded.

"Sammy, come join me," a familiar voice said. Doug, the husband of Kelley's friend was seated at a booth. It had been over a year since we'd gone fishing and camping together.

"I hear you graduated from college and you're working for your old man," he said as we shook hands. He didn't mention Kelley by name, but I knew she must have told Phyllis that she'd seen me at the charity meetings.

We ordered breakfast and caught up while waiting for our meals to arrive. Because of the demands of his job, he'd only been fishing once over the summer. "I'm working six days a week, and for what? So the dealership can keep the profits? That's why I've decided to try it on my own," he said, sitting back to watch my reaction.

What did he want me to say? That I was skeptical? I knew he didn't have the capital to become an automobile dealer. He was a parts manager. What other lines of work did he know? "That's interesting," I said.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Sammy. I'm going to need a place to operate out of," he said.

"What type of business are you thinking of entering, Doug?"

He gave me his, 'Are-you-dense-or-what?' look. "Auto parts, what else?"

"You could probably operate a fish market," I said, and he agreed that I had a point.

Doug talked about his plans for the next thirty minutes while I ate an enormous breakfast. I had to admit that he had a sound plan, right down to the capital expenditures that would be required to get started.

"I've been hoping to run into you, Sammy. Can you help me with a place to operate out of?"

"You're probably looking for a location where you can take advantage of walk-ins. We don't have anything like that."

"It doesn't need to be on a main road, Sammy. Most of my business will come from dealerships and auto repair shops. Home mechanics will find me if they know I can save them money."

"We have one bay in our R & D building. Give me your number and I'll have our sales manager get in touch with you."

"Can't you show it to me, Sammy?"

"I could, but I'd get into trouble with Ralph. Anyway, he's better qualified to show you the space than I am."

Doug's eyes darted around the room. "It's better if I call him. The boss is a snoop. I think he knows I'm about ready to split."

I wrote Ralph Shepard's name and number on the back of my business card and handed it to Doug. "I'll let Ralph know to expect your call. He'll treat you right. You'll like him."

Doug looked at the front of my card. "Sammy K. Oldham, Special Projects. I've got a special project for you, Sammy. That's the other reason I've been hoping to bump into you."

"Yeah, what's that, Doug?"

"I've got this friend. She's a sales person at the dealership where I work. We go for a drink sometimes after a shift and the last time we got to talking. Know what I mean?"

"I think I do."

"Jessie's a hell of a sales gal. She's a good person, too. I don't want to see her get hurt again."

"What do you mean by hurt again? What happened?"

"When I say she's a good person, I really mean she's too trusting. One guy was a customer and the other one was a salesman at our place. She's learned her lesson about mixing business with pleasure. That's why I thought of you. You wouldn't get caught dead in any of our brands, and you don't sell cars for a living."

"Why are you saying Jessie is a special project? Is she damaged goods or something?" I asked.

"She's got her head on straight, and I want to keep it that way. It's tricky. All the men she meets are either looking to trade cars or they're in the business. Once they see Jessie, they're on the make. That's where you come in. If you were to keep her satisfied, she wouldn't be vulnerable, and she'd be more productive. It would also keep her out of trouble with the wives and girlfriends of these guys."

"I don't think I'm your man, Doug. It sounds to me that this girl needs more than to be kept satisfied. Anyway, I've got a girl in California that I hope to see again soon."

He said something to the effect that it was worth a try. I was curious about some things and before we parted, I asked two pointed questions. What did Phyllis have to say about his going into business, and did she know about his friend, Jessie? According to Doug, Phyllis was in full support of his business venture and she knew all about his friendship with Jessica Langley. "In fact, it was her idea that I fix you up with Jessie," he said.

We'd kept each other talking for so long that I was late getting to Mrs. Collingsworth's house. She seemed angrier with me for showing up late than she had been when I squeezed her tit the last time I'd seen her.

For once, she was sensibly dressed. Boots replaced the high heels, and she was wearing corduroy slacks and a suede jacket over a sweat shirt. I assumed the pendant was dangling from a chain, but I couldn't tell for sure.

We drove from store to store and from drop-off place to drop-off place, picking up toys and children's clothing. It was Mrs. Colingsworth's job to go inside and make contact with the store managers, who would show her where the donated items were located. It was my job to carry the items to the black SUV and fit everything inside.

We drove to the office five times to unload the car that day. After the security guard found out my name, he helped wheel the loads to the empty space on the first floor. Mrs. Collingsworth stayed seated in the car while I stored the first four loads, but followed us to the storage area the last time, saying she wanted to make sure everything would be safe.

I could tell that she was surprised to see that the area had been gutted. She even looked around approvingly at how large it was.

It was after five-thirty when I drove the big car into her garage, and opened the passenger door to help her out.

The kiss was even more intense than the last one had been, and much more enjoyable for me because she was an inch shorter than me and I didn't have to tilt my head back. I merely lent her my lips as long as she needed them, and I certainly didn't slip my hand inside her jacket to squeeze her breast. I know I felt her knees rub mine, and I'm pretty sure I felt our thighs touch. Her hand was on the back of my neck, and her tongue darted between my lips before she pulled away, told me to close the doors when I left, and entered her house without looking back.

The next day, I drove Ned's car to the airport to meet the flight from Florida. Returning to find snow on the ground must have been a shock to the travelers. They talked about what a great day Saturday had been. John and Suzanne had played golf, and Ned and Penelope had taken their daughter to visit Disney World. Samantha talked all the way home about the wonderful time she'd had. They all expressed their concern that I'd had to cut my holiday short.

John told me that he'd delayed the conference call with the investors until Friday, the third of December. "It's the earliest date I could get everyone to agree to be available," he said.

"That will give me another day to put the final touches on my presentation," I said.

Wanda and I worked all day on Monday, making sure every detail was correct, every calculation was accurate, and every graph and chart gave a positive impression to my pitch.

On Tuesday, before the packages were sent out to arrive the next day, the thought came to me, what if the Lynch brothers really did have another party interested in buying the Denver building. I held up the mailing until the next day.

Sandra Lynch would never know how timely her telephone call would be. Her proposition was enticing. She wanted to meet me at a place of my choosing, for us to get to know each other, or so she said. Her voice was seductive and I was pretty sure I wasn't reading more into her offer than she intended to convey. We didn't talk about the building or my offer being final. What was important to me was that the other party had failed to materialize. The building was still available.

We mailed the packages to the investors on Wednesday, to arrive on Thursday.

A telephone call from Mrs. Collingsworth set the tone for the conference call. She didn't ask to speak to me. Instead, she grilled Wanda for a solid hour. As Wanda told me later, "It was like she'd just opened the package and wanted me to explain every page, what it meant and why it had been included. You must know how hard it is to understand her, Sammy. She became impatient with me when I had to ask her to rephrase her questions."

"I'm sorry you had to endure that abuse, Wanda."

"Enduring her phone calls is nothing compared to what you must go through in person when you take her to those meetings," she said.

I laughed. "You wouldn't believe what I have to endure."

Ralph Shepard came to me. "Who's this guy you had call me?"

"Sorry, Ralph. I forgot to warn you. He's a friend of a friend. I told him about the R & D space and gave him your number."

"He has no financing, Sammy, and as far as I can tell, he has no prospects of getting any financing."

"I listened to his plan, but I didn't qualify him, Ralph."

I was sure he was thinking bad thoughts about me as he shook his head and walked away.

The Friday conference call was a disaster. Mrs. Collingsworth raved about the insanity of my proposal to purchase the Denver building, expend untold amounts of dollars in refurbishing costs with the hopes of attracting startup companies, and then burn more money while we waited for those companies to occupy the space. My attempts to refute her argument were met with unintelligible rambling.

Tom Collingsworth was also unable to corral his daughter-in-law, and my dad's appeal fell on deaf ears. I heard other members hang up until there were only five of us, four investors and me. Fortunately, John Oldham, Tom Collingsworth and Edith Rowell were the only investors to hear Mrs. Collingsworth move to dissolve the trust and for all investments to be returned. John calmly said that her motion had been recorded and it would be taken up at the next investor's meeting. He didn't disclose the date when he expected the next meeting to take place.

By the following Monday, word had gotten around the company that the conference call had gone up in smoke. I made excuses to get out of the office for long stretches of time.

One of the places I went was to see Doug at the auto dealership where he worked. I wanted to find out how he expected to go into business without first securing financing. I guess I was embarrassed that Ralph Shepard had discovered that I'd missed such a critical component to any business plan.

Well, okay, I didn't give a shit about Doug's financing one way or the other. I'd been thinking what he'd said about Jessica Langley: that if I were to keep her satisfied, she wouldn't be vulnerable, and she'd be more productive. I wanted to meet this girl.

I parked in a visitor's space at the front of the building. Doug hadn't described her, but I knew it must be Jessica heading my way. She wore a ski parka, heavy twill slacks, and boots with two inch heels. Her hair, which was naturally dark, was streaked with various shades of brown and blonde.

"Hi," she said as she extended her gloved hand. "I'll bet you're ready to garage that convertible for the winter and want a four-wheel drive vehicle to play in the snow. What's your pleasure?" she asked, squeezing my hand as she released it.

"Thanks, but I hadn't considered garaging my car for the winter," I said, without giving her my name or telling her my reason for visiting the dealership. Her face took on a mock pout as she turned to greet a couple that had just arrived. I saw how the parka hid her figure, and I could tell by the way she swung her ass that she knew I was watching.

What had just happened? I'd come here to meet her, but at the last moment, I got cold feet. I didn't want to give up on Megan defying her mother's warnings and wanting to meet me someplace. It wouldn't do at all to be involved with Jessica if Megan wanted to meet me.

I went inside, told Doug that I was going to speak with a banker I knew on his behalf, and left before one of his co-workers overheard our conversation.

Jessica excused herself from the couple and caught up with me before I reached my car. "Take my card in case you change your mind about the winter car. We have a good selection."

I thanked her for the card and drove straight to Marsha Cody's bank. She said she would speak with Doug as a favor to me, but warned me that new businesses were not where the bank was focusing its attention right now. I thanked her and said I would see her at the next meeting of The Reapers.

That was Friday, the tenth of December. As I got ready for bed, I found Jessica's card in my shirt pocket and dropped it on my desk. I glanced at the card the next morning before going out to buy gifts for K.O. The salesman at the sporting goods store told me they didn't make football pads for a four year old. He suggested soccer equipment, including short pants, a jersey, shoes and a ball.

I tried several times over the weekend to talk to Megan. Her mother said she would give her daughter the messages. It was Tuesday when I came home from work to discover her message on my answering machine. Since I didn't have her office number, I waited until nine PM to call her at home. From the way she began the conversation, "The night of graduation will always be my fondest memory of you," I knew I was doomed.

"Why does it have to be a memory, Megan?"

"We're miles apart, Sammy."

"This is 1993. A few miles translate to a couple of hours on a plane."

"I wasn't talking about the distance between where we live. I was talking about where we live, our backgrounds, the people we are."