Let Me Love You. Linda Walters
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years before, Skye would not have been cognizant of any of these things. It had taken a life-threatening episode, advanced technology and an act of God to deliver her whole and resolved to move forward. One of the first things she’d done was to purchase the condominium she now lived in.
Renovation had taken more than six months. New kitchen cabinets carved from warm maple wood with brass accents lined both walls and the entire kitchen had been painted linen-white. Skye purchased light blue kitchen towels, a set of wooden canisters and decided to paint one wall a vibrant shade of blue.
When Rod saw what she’d done, he hugged her and shook his head. “I knew you had it in you, girl. This is good. Your decorating instincts are alive and well, which I suspected all the time. Now, we can pick out some other stuff whenever you’re ready. And you have to allow me to take you to some of my favorite haunts,” he added, grinning in triumph.
“Don’t get carried away. I still think that a funky look without all this coordinating is the way to go. I just painted the bedroom and the one wall in the kitchen ’cause I was bored,” she said, unconvincingly.
Rod looked at her, closed one eye and smiled seductively. “Yeah, and you don’t really expect me to believe that, now do you?”
Skye laughed then, knowing she’d never fully convince him of her lack of interest in something he loved passionately.
“Look, can we just change the subject? You’ll never admit that I don’t have a decorating bone in my body ’cause you want to believe otherwise. And that’s fine with me—as long as you don’t insist on my shopping at Linens ’n Things every week. How’re things going on the broker side of the industry?” she asked quickly.
“You know. It’s either feast or famine. I’m still working on getting the sales force to get their act together. They either chase the clients away with some of their tactics during the applications process, or they overload them with too much information. Either way, I find we have about a fifty-fifty pull through ratio. Everybody except Pablo. Now, that guy knows how to market himself and the loan programs.”
Rod laughed then and Skye joined him. Images of Pablo, who was tall, thin, handsome and well dressed, were present in both their minds, but for different reasons. Pablo appealed to Rod as the quintessential recruit. Although he knew him to be happily heterosexual, if ever there was a change, he wanted to be the first to know.
“I guess you need to identify what it is that Pablo does, bottle it and market it throughout the territory that your company is covering. Sounds like you need that winning formula,” Skye added then, wondering if anything like what she suggested had ever been tried.
“If it wasn’t so simple, it would be diabolical. You’re absolutely right—it just can’t be done. Every mortgage person acts from his own strengths and, let’s face it, his or her own weaknesses, as well. I don’t have to tell you that, though. You’ve become an expert.”
Rod’s reference to Skye’s success was delivered with pride. In his mind, he’d shown her the path and could take credit for that much, at least. Her continued ability to originate and close a substantial number of loans was totally her own, though.
“Look, I’ll always remember that your input made a terrific difference in my ability. I think of you daily whenever I’m faced with anything that offers resistance. I also recognize the personal insights you contributed from the time I entered the industry over two years ago right up to this very moment,” Skye said, without a hint of laughter in her demeanor.
Rod watched her, shook his head and then smiled slowly. “Don’t even try and play yourself, girl. You were ready from the moment I said go. Your instincts are good, your people skills are excellent and you took to the industry’s standards including programs, products, etc., like a duck to a pond. You’re a born mortgage professional. My only claim to fame is that I discovered you,” he added, grinning in triumph. “A distinct coup was staged the first day you walked through the door.”
Skye laughed and put an arm around him in a leisurely hug. His summation of her talent, her abilities and her knowledge of the industry made her feel accepted and accomplished. After what she’d gone through in the past few years, the feeling was a welcome one.
Now, as Skye headed for the building, she wondered just what Nita and Branch had up their sleeves. She walked in, checked her messages, then made an appointment for a wash and blow dry. The weekend seemed far away, but a girl could never go wrong with a clean head of hair.
Chapter 2
Terrance Marshall placed the phone into the cradle and waited. It took two minutes for it to ring again. He hesitated for another twenty seconds, his patience growing shorter by the moment. Contrary to his wishes, the phone continued to ring. Picking it up slowly, he spoke into the receiver quickly.
“Hello…” There was silence on the other end and his temper flared.
“If you’re not going to speak, you should stop wasting both your time and mine,” he said sternly, then placed the receiver into the cradle. He walked out of the room hoping to avoid what he knew would be a senseless exchange.
“Women…” he muttered under his breath. His instincts told him that his caller had to be Brianna. Who else would call him repeatedly, refuse to speak to him and hang up without saying a single word. He knew she was angry, and perhaps, rightfully so, but her anger was a moot point. Their marriage was over.
They’d tried their best to avoid divorce, but it hadn’t worked. In the scheme of things, too much time had lapsed as he’d avoided giving her honest answers to the questions she posed on a daily basis. There really were no clear-cut answers.
Besides, he’d learned long ago that honesty was overrated. They’d only been married for four years but in that time, they’d created something of beauty. Jacqueline. If it were not for their daughter, he’d have split long ago.
Terrance took off his tie, turned on the television and tried to figure out what he should do for dinner. Sorting through the many takeout menus he kept in a kitchen drawer, he decided to order in. He made the call, hung up and it rang immediately. “Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath.
Unable to stop himself, he cursed under his breath and barked into the receiver. “Yeah, what is it now?”
On the other end, Branch laughed, then said, “Man, didn’t your mama teach you to answer a phone any better than that?”
Terrance snorted, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Actually, you’d better be glad you said something ’cause my next comment would have been a solid insult. Someone’s been playing phone games since I walked through the door. I’m hungry and not in the mood for nonsense,” he added, then chuckled. “Guess you caught me at a bad time. What’s up, dude?”
“Not a thing. Just calling to save your tired life is all.”
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you were the one who vowed to make amends for having missed the wedding. My bride has almost forgiven you, but you’ll have to do a lot more than apologize before you can enter my good graces again. Thought I’d let you know that next weekend is your redemption, buddy.”
“Do you want to explain yourself properly or do I have to revert to King’s English just to get you to spell it out for me?” Terrance knew his buddy was giving him a hard time and he also knew that no matter what, he’d end up on the short end of the stick. Branch usually had a way of making good on any promise he’d made and Terrance was sure this would be no exception.
“Okay, here it is, dude. Nita has invited all of the members of the wedding party for a fun-filled weekend here in Fort Lauderdale. The house can accommodate all of you, so it’s not a problem. Most are coming in on Friday evening, but some can’t get here until Saturday morning. No matter what, the party is kicking off Saturday evening. Be here or be square,” he said.
“Party, huh? And just what’s the party celebrating,