She took a sip of water. The handsome young waiter, dressed in a tuxedo shirt and black slacks, smiled as he approached the table.
“Good afternoon, ladies. May I tell you the luncheon specials?”
Kathleen half listened to the list of fresh fish and French dishes. She sat facing the main dining room and scanned the faces of people dining while the waiter rattled off the specials.
Most of the diners were tourists, but better attired than those who drive into town for the day dressed in shorts, T-shirts and fanny packs on their way to the Grand Canyon. Those who usually ventured into this restaurant wore casual, expensive clothes and were spending a few days in the area. There were even some diners dressed in formal business attire, obviously having lunch while discussing some business deal. Kathleen knew several of them.
At a table in the main dining room, there was a man Kathleen judged to be in his mid-thirties having lunch with the chairman of the board of the Sedona-Oak Creek Bank, Erwin Stanley. Kathleen had known Stanley for many years and she remembered with a pang that he and his wife, Judy, sat in the pew in front of her at Scott’s funeral without acknowledging her. On the left side of Stanley sat Harold Winn, the president of the bank.
Winn was a short man with a large balding spot in the middle of his head. He tried to cover the glaring site by combing the few strands of gray hair at the front of his brow over his baldness, creating a sort of pompadour that had been in style in the 1940s.
Kathleen considered Harold Winn a weasel. She went to him for a personal bank loan when she left Scott, thinking that since she had known him for so many years he would give her a little leeway on the loan application.
Sitting behind his big desk in his plush office with a view that overlooked the red rocks, Winn casually asked her what her assets were. When she told him she owned none of Scott’s properties because of the prenup agreement, he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and then matter-of-factly told her she needed a co-signer for the $10,000 loan.
The interest rate was twenty percent, Winn said because she personally owned nothing of worth to the bank. When Kathleen suggested her jewels and furs, he was abrupt. “Real property is what this bank wants for collateral, Kathleen. Nothing else. You were stupid to sign that prenup agreement.”
He ran his hand through his sparse strands of hair and a few beads of sweat showed on his shiny forehead. He patted them off with his silk handkerchief, puffing a little as if he had run some sort of race.
In desperation, Kathleen turned to Carrie and her husband, Ned. The couple took her in while she recuperated from Scott’s attack, and they also willingly co-signed the loan.
Kathleen began to feel she had picked the wrong restaurant for lunch. She put her eyes down as all three men looked over at her. Erwin was saying something about her to the man she did not recognize. In desperation, she turned her attention to ordering from the sumptuous menu. After the waiter left, Carrie reached over and patted Kathleen’s hand.
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