Chapter 7

Over the next weeks things slowly returned to normal. Cindy's body had now healed: There were now only red lines marking the cuts on her body which were fading fast under her golden tan. One day Pete returned home driving a new car, a bright red Mazda 323 GTX. He parked it next to the garage and Cindy came out to look at it. "What happened to the BMW? Get a little too close to a tree?"

"Oh, this? No, it's yours. I left mine at the office," he replied.

"Mine? What do you mean, mine? Pete, there's no way I can afford a car. I'm indentured to you and Jan for at least the next ten years as it is."

"I know that. That's why I got the car. Jan's getting a little tired of doing all the shopping, the heavy lifting — all that sort of stuff. Since she thought it would look a little funny for a slave to be driving a BMW, I bought this for you. After all, you said yourself you'll be around for ten years anyway, so it should be pretty well worn out by then. Do you like it?"

Cindy had been looking at him while slowly shaking her head. Then he gave her the title and registration, both made out in her name. She looked at them and said, "What's this? If you bought the car, why is it in my name?"

"Do you think for one minute, lady, I want your reckless driving on my insurance record? No way! You're stuck with it. I'm sorry."

She just shook her head again and then her tears started to flow. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a warm kiss. He could taste the salt of her tears as she kissed him. "Peter Stewart, you're terrible!"

"That's what Jan says all the time, too. Since you both say it, I guess it must be true. Now let me go, lady, before my wife sees you. She's jealous and she's tough!"

Cindy loved her little car. It handled like the turbo-charged rocket it was. From then on she handled all the family shopping.

One morning she was getting the shopping list together and Jan emptied a small box on the kitchen counter. "Would you kindly keep your own shit, lady. My purse is cluttered enough as it is."

Cindy looked at the materials that dumped out. Jan said casually, "By the way, I thought you were the banker? Don't you know enough to sign your credit cards? Anyone could pick one of these up, sign your name, and use it."

Cindy looked at the cards. There was an American Express card, a MasterCard, and a Visa card. In addition, there was a checkbook from Chicago Trust Company. The checks were imprinted 'Cynthia K. Martin' and showed the Stewart's address in Deerfield.

Cindy looked at the check register and found it was completely blank. She looked at Jan and asked, "What's this for? High-priced notepaper? I don't have a penny nor any source of income. In fact, I owe your sister $60,000 or so, plus accrued interest."

Jan looked bored. "Oh, there's no balance showing because it runs off our account. Try to keep track of what you spend, though, will you? I have enough trouble trying to reconcile my own damned account."

Cindy started to cry. "Do you mean to tell me, Janice Stewart, that you and Pete are giving me signing authority on your entire bank account?"

"Don't be silly. You can only sign on yours. Incidentally, they have your signature on file already, so there are no dumb cards to sign. And here is your ATM card; I almost forgot." She looked at the girl with love in her eyes and a fake frown on her face.

"No, I can't sign on your account. I can write a check of any size on my account and your account covers it. Is that the way it works?"

"Well ... sort of, I guess. Why? What's the trouble? There will be enough to pay for the groceries and the dry cleaning."

Cindy shook her head and smiled wryly. "Mrs. Stewart, if I put this card in an ATM and withdrew — say — ten dollars, what do you suppose the bank balance would read?"

Suddenly Jan was embarrassed. This was something she hadn't thought of. She blushed and stammered, "It would be enough to get you your ten dollars."

"Times about one million? Care to bet?" Cindy insisted.

"Higher than that," Jan said, speaking so softly Cindy could hardly hear her.

"How much, Stewart? All I have to do is go to an ATM and find out."

"Something better than $15 million, unless Mom and Dad pulled their usual dirty trick," Jan said softly.

"Dirty trick?"

"Yeah. Periodically, I'll do what you mentioned — get some cash from an ATM. Then I find that the account is high by ten or twenty million. They do it just to cause trouble. Why do you think we have the pool and will soon have the tennis court? We have to do something with it."

Suddenly, Jan's attitude changed. She said very brightly, "Cindy, I did it because I love you. Can we let it go at that? Please?"

Cindy kissed her softly, whispered, "I love you, too," and scuttled out the door with her shopping list.

That night Cindy celebrated. She had prepared the entire meal herself for the first time. As she was getting ready to serve, Jan came into the kitchen and said, "Cin, you're missing a place setting at the dinner table."

"I'm sorry! I didn't know you were having a guest. Should I put the dinner away to keep warm while we wait?"

"What's the trouble? Aren't you hungry enough to eat yet? Pete and I were talking while you were finishing up out here. He pointed out how dangerous it is to eat when the cook doesn't. So as your punishment you have to eat with us from now on." Jan's eyes were dancing as she added, "And you can bet your last dime that if you don't eat something, we won't eat it, either."

When they sat down to eat, Pete got up and brought out a special white wine they had been saving and poured it. Taking his seat again, he raised his glass and said, "I would like to offer a toast: To a wonderful girl and a wonderful person. To a girl who has shown us what courage is really all about. To you, Cindy, with all of our love."

Jan said, "Amen." They drank the toast while Cindy just stared down at her plate.

Cindy then raised her glass. "To the Stewarts: the finest, most loving family on the face of this earth. If I ever amount to anything or ever achieve happiness in marriage, it will be because of you. You have shown me what married love can be but almost never is. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Speaking of marriage, Cin, have you heard from Dan? We had a great time when he was out here. Will we see him again?" Jan asked. "Incidentally, how did you meet him? The exchange you had going with him was getting interesting."

"We've talked a couple of times. As a matter of fact, he's asked me out. I begged off. As for meeting him, I guess it was funny. We were in the credit training program together. Dan was the odd one. He was older than the rest of us and I now see so clearly he was the only one with his head screwed on straight. God, did we fight!"

She looked down and said softly, "I guess we were the smartest ones in the class. I looked down on him because I had gone to Northwestern and Chicago while he went to a mere state school." She grimaced and continued, "God, I was a pill. The more I think about it, the less reason I can come up with for letting me live. Jan and Pete, I couldn't have been a more obnoxious rich bitch. I looked down on him."

She looked up at Jan and tears were flowing from her eyes. "Do you know what? Dan was wounded three times. He has three Purple Hearts, the Silver Star, and the Navy Cross for service in Vietnam. He paid his way through Illinois and was Phi Beta Kappa. He was tops in his class at the graduate business school. I know you two understand. Jan, you were Yale and Columbia. Pete, you were Harvard and MIT. I think it says something about something. You two are the top of the heap academically, but no one would ever know it. I was just a bitch."

She mumbled something and ran from the dining room.

Pete was bewildered as he looked at Jan and asked, "Honey, what do you make of that?"

"That, sweetheart, is a girl who finds she's in love. Unfortunately, she feels unworthy of the guy she's in love with. Does that sound like anyone you know?" she asked with a wry grin.

"As a matter of fact, it does. There was a girl I met one time ... I think it may have been in Hawaii. There was something about her job or profession or something. I never learned what it was. It was boring," Pete replied. "But why do you ask?"

"No reason. Excuse me, darling, I want to see what's going on." She left the table and found Cindy curled up in a ball in a chair in the study. She was crying like her heart was broken but her face was buried in her arms to try to muffle the sounds.

Jan went over and knelt on the floor beside her. "What's wrong, honey? Why the tears?"

Cindy sat up in the chair. Her shoulders were still shaking and her eyes were red from her tears. "It's all my fault. Telling you and Pete about it at the table reminded me of some of the things I did and said. Jan, they were on a par with me selling your note: the same level of sensitivity and high moral standards."

Jan had an idea and changed the subject. "Cindy, the fourth of July is next week. Have you heard from Jeffrey? Why don't you invite him out? Maybe for a cookout on Thursday night and then we could play it by ear. Any interest?"

Cindy brightened and said, "Are you sure? Jan, I'm not even the hired help. What do you mean by letting me invite a guest?"

"Cynthia Martin — see, smarty, I can too say it; I just don't like to — let's face facts, shall we? You're a beloved house guest. Of course you do more than your share of the housework, but on the other hand we don't charge for room and board. But yes, you're welcome to invite anyone you wish."