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Authors: Bettye Griffin

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BOOK: If These Walls Could Talk
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This marked their first Christmas with only the three of them, and the first time they'd eaten out on the holiday. She thought they might drive into the city to visit their families, but Milo had been against it. “We can have a perfectly nice holiday with just the three of us,” he'd said. “I'm tired of everybody in Brooklyn acting like we moved to Pluto. If you want we can drive in between Christmas and New Year's and see everybody, but I think we ought to get used to the idea of you, me, and Zach against the world.”
Dawn knew that relations between Camille and Reuben had deteriorated to the point where their Christmas would likely be tense and strained, but she envied Veronica and Norman, who would enjoy a homey celebration with her parents, sister, and niece.
It seemed like everything went well for Veronica, she thought with a touch of bitterness. Why did some people get to live charmed lives, while others struggled? Would she have to live out her life, die, and then come back as a different person before she got a chance to be one of the lucky ones?
At least they had had a nice holiday. Milo had bought Zach the newly released version of his favorite computer game, and she'd bought him those new gym shoes he wanted, plus some boring necessities, like underwear and socks. She'd even bought Stormy some gourmet dog biscuits, which the canine loved.
Milo surprised her with an earring and pendant set in black onyx and gold. She gave him a couple of shirts that she'd matched with snazzy tie-and-hanky sets.
She'd paid for everything with proceeds from her Christmas club savings, and Milo paid for his purchases with his annual bonus. She knew they would have to either stop spending or pay cash for everything. They'd already maxed out two credit cards and were running up the balance on a third.
That would be her New Year's resolution, she vowed. No buying anything on credit unless absolutely necessary. If they tightened their belts they would win this battle of the budget.
Something told her that 2005 would be their year.
Chapter 41
The Currys
March 2005
C
amille stared at the number in disbelief. She suddenly found it hard to breathe, and blood rushed to her head. “Reuben, we owe the IRS eleven thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“Eleven thousand dollars,” she repeated. It sounded even worse the second time. She could feel her heart racing in her chest. It felt like it would jump out at any moment and bounce around the room. “Because of the money we took from our retirement fund. Early withdrawal penalties. Plus, we have to pay tax on the amount withdrawn.” Her eyes filled with tears. “What are we going to do?”
He was at her side in an instant, gathering her in an embrace. “Camille, don't cry.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked between sobs. “What are
you
going to do?”
He took a deep breath. “I've wondered if we should sell the house.”
“And then what? Live on the streets?”
“That's where I get stuck,” he admitted. “I'm not sure what to do. I don't know how long it'll be until I can get a better-paying job. I keep telling myself that when it happens I'll keep working at FedEx to help us get out of this hole. But I don't know when that'll be.”
She pulled back a little to look up at him. “And this is supposed to help me feel better? Hearing you talk about what you hope will happen? You're the head of our family, Reuben. You're supposed to take care of us.”
He winced at her words. Instantly she wished she could take them back.
“Reuben . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's not your fault. I know it isn't.” She looked down, suddenly ashamed to look him in the eye. “I wish I could take back what I said. I didn't mean it, I swear.” She looked up slowly when he began to speak.
“At least I'm bringing home more money since I started working at the hospital. Plus we don't have the expense of two bus passes.”
This only made her cry again. “Just one,” she said between sobs. “Reuben, I'm so tired of commuting every day. It's gotten to the point where I absolutely hate Sundays because I know I have to start all over the next morning.”
“I know you're tired, Camille. But we've got so much at stake here. We're talking about our family's entire way of life. I wish . . . No, it has to be more than that. Camille, we've got to work together. That's the key. If we do that, we'll manage.”
“How, Reuben?” Her voice came out sounding like a whiny child, but she couldn't help it. All last year she'd had an idea of what lay ahead, but now that it had actually happened, it meant they'd run out of time.
“First of all, wait until April fifteenth to actually file the return. That's six weeks from now. That'll give us time to do a little finagling and maybe get the amount we owe down. Then ask to set up an installment agreement with them,” he said.
“And what happens when we default on it?”
“We don't. This is at the top of the list, right after food, the electric bill, and your bus pass.”
“I notice you didn't say the mortgage.”
“I know. We'll have to do the best we can, Camille. Obviously we can't continue to borrow against our retirement funds.”
“But if we don't pay the mortgage—”
“I know, but that's the one bill that gives us the most trouble. We can manage to pay everything else on our existing income, can't we?” At her nod he said, “We'll be all right as long as we don't fall too far behind. We won't be in default for another two months. Something will break soon. I can feel it.”
As she stood with her face buried in his chest, she shivered. She felt something coming, too.
She didn't care what Reuben said; nothing good could come from not paying their mortgage.
Chapter 42
The Youngs
March 2005
D
awn didn't know what to make of Milo's behavior. But something wasn't right.
Outwardly Milo seemed fine. Yet whenever she said anything to him, he usually responded with, “What?” Maybe he'd developed a hearing problem, but she had a feeling he just wasn't paying attention to what she said.
And then there was their sex life. All of a sudden it had become hotter, more energetic, and much more frequent. He left her breathless. She had no complaints but wondered why the change. He even talked about taking up tennis in the spring. They'd lived in Tobyhanna nearly three years, and the first two summers he'd been too tired to pick up a racket and learn the game. Now he was so anxious to learn.
She repeatedly asked him if anything was wrong, and he always said no. But she didn't feel convinced.
She wished she had someone to talk to. Camille had problems of her own, although she and Reuben seemed to be getting along better these days. They'd begun appearing at get-togethers as a couple again, after months of Camille coming alone. Dawn took it as a good sign that they hadn't sunk into the social withdrawal that had plagued Tanisha and Douglas Cole before they abruptly left the state. Still, Reuben continued to work two part-time jobs, unable to get back into his profession of grocery manager. For that reason Dawn was reluctant to bend Camille's ear with her concerns.
Although Denise King had become a friend through the reading group they formed, Dawn felt she simply didn't know Denise well enough to confide in.
That left Veronica.
“Thanks so much for meeting me,” Dawn said as Veronica sat across from her in a booth at Perkin's. Veronica looked great these days, having recently had her hair cut and styled, with side-swept bangs and a little flip. It made her thin hair look fuller.
“It makes for a nice break in an otherwise routine day. I, uh, did get the feeling it was important.”
“It's probably silly, but, yes, it's important to me.”
“If it's something you can't get off your mind it's not silly. Tell you what—let's get the ordering out of the way so we can talk.”
They took a few minutes to peruse the menu and place their orders.
“I need your opinion on something, Veronica,” Dawn said when the waitress left. “It's Milo. He's been acting, well,
different
lately.”
“Different how?”
Dawn explained his behavior. “He's just more enthusiastic about life than he usually is. I don't know what to make of it. He keeps saying he's fine, but I'm wondering if he's got a girlfriend.”
“That doesn't seem feasible, Dawn. After all, didn't you guys just go to New Orleans for your anniversary?”
“That was nine months ago.” Dawn didn't want to say that while the trip had been wonderful and they had enjoyed their anniversary, when the bills started coming in they fell back into their old ways, him getting depressed and not wanting to do anything and her trying to coax him into activity. “Veronica, Milo hasn't “really adjusted to the commute to the city. He's tired all the time on the weekends. Half the time I can't even get him to mow the lawn.” She shrugged. “It's been a source of conflict between us, even though I know he really is tired, and that he's tried.”
Veronica nodded. “I used to feel that I'd never adjust myself. I prayed the hospital nearby would hire me quickly. Believe me, I know how Milo feels. I know that Norman goes over to Arlington Acres to play tennis with Reuben and Lemuel and that they've tried to get Milo to join them.”
“He's always too tired. It's been almost three years, Veronica. Now all of a sudden he wants to learn how to play? This is why I feel something's wrong.”
Veronica thought for a minute. “Dawn, does he leave for work earlier, or come home later?”
“No. We still go in and ride back together.”
“That's a good sign, don't you think? He's home with you on weekends. It doesn't sound like he's got
time
to have an affair.”
Dawn considered this. Veronica was right. Milo couldn't squeeze an affair into his schedule. He hadn't taken any secret days off from work, either; she called him at the office every day and always reached him. “That makes sense. Besides, he's been awfully frisky lately, if you know what I mean. I don't see how he'd have any energy left.”
Veronica reached across the table and patted her forearm. “Has it ever occurred to you that Milo might be doing this for you? My advice is don't worry and don't nag him by asking if something's wrong. Just enjoy it. Get frisky right back with him. And for God's sake, don't shy away from the tennis courts.”
“I won't,” she said. If Milo's efforts came from a desire to please her, she certainly wouldn't blow it by saying she didn't want to sweat out her hair or anything like that.
Veronica's suggestions explained away all but one of her concerns: why did Milo always seem so distracted?
Chapter 43
The Currys
April 2005
“M
ama, a man from the bank called,” Mitchell said to Camille. “He said it's important that you or Daddy call him back tomorrow.”
“Let me see that,” Reuben demanded, taking the paper Mitchell held with the name and telephone number. He met Camille's eyes over the table. “Mortgage,” he mouthed.
Camille's shoulders immediately went tense. They'd paid only part of the April mortgage, and May would be due soon. They'd filed their tax return on time on April fifteenth, enclosing a check for five hundred dollars toward their five-figure debt. Reuben said that with any luck they wouldn't hear from the IRS until June about setting up an installment agreement. That should give them time to get caught up with the mortgage before they fell behind again.
“Is everything all right?” Mitchell asked. At fourteen, he had excellent instincts. It would be awfully hard to put anything over on him.
“Nothing to worry about,” Reuben said airily. “Your mother and I are having a bit of a dispute with the bank. I'd just as soon you not get involved, son. You don't even have to answer the phone if their name comes up on the caller ID, and I'll tell your sister the same thing. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mitchell seemed glad to be done with it.
“That was easy,” Reuben commented after Mitchell left the kitchen.
“Yeah. I wish the rest of it was as simple.”
“I'll take care of calling the bank. Try not to worry, Camille.” He kissed her cheek and left the room, phone number in hand.
“Sure,” she said to no one. “Don'cha worry 'bout a thing.”
Chapter 44
The Youngs
May 2005
D
awn settled on the sofa in the den with a stack of envelopes and the checkbook. “Milo, it's time for us to do the bills.” She forced herself to sound cheerful, but she dreaded the end of the month, when they had to face making another mortgage payment and all those credit card payments. She felt as gloomy as the weather outside. Memorial Day was often iffy in the Northeast, and this year the meteorologists had correctly forecast rain.
He ambled out of the kitchen with a beer in hand. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. What's on your mind?”
He remained standing. “I've had it, Dawn. I'm going back to Brooklyn.”
Her mouth dropped open. She thought he was about to suggest a new budget or something, not tell her he was leaving.
Leaving?
“What do you mean, you're going back?”
“Donald said I can sleep on the trundle bed in Shawn's room. I'll stay there until I can get a place. Hopefully it won't take long. Donald said that although Carmen consented, she's not happy about it.”
“Of course she wouldn't be happy about it. She's my friend. You put her in an awkward position by even asking to stay at their place. No wonder I haven't heard from her this week.” She blinked away tears. “I don't understand all this, Milo. Where did it come from? I kept asking if you had something on your mind. You've been acting strangely for months now. But you always said you were fine. Then you drop this bombshell on me, after I start to believe everything really
is
okay.”
He sighed. “I'm sorry about that, Dawn. I tried to make the best of it. But it's just not working. I'm miserable here. I want to go back to the city.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Just like that, you want to go back to the city. What about Zach and me? You're going to just leave us here to fend for ourselves?”
“I'll send you as much money as I can. My name's on those credit card bills, too.”
“To hell with the credit cards. What about the house? I can't pay this mortgage by myself!”
“Dawn, I'll do the best I can. But I have to get a place to live myself.”
“You, you, you!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. Thank God Zach was not home—he'd gone to see that new action movie in Mount Pocono with Mitchell. Milo had dropped them off, and Reuben would pick them up. The boys often sneaked into another theater in the multiplex and saw a second film. She'd hate for them to get caught, but what the hell. It had rained all day, what else were they supposed to do? “You need to think about your son and whether or not he'll have a roof over his head.”
He dropped his head. “You don't know how I've agonized over this, Dawn. I stuck it out as long as I did because of Zach. But I just can't do it anymore.”
Her hands fell to her sides, all her indignation gone like a ketchup stain in the wash. “You want a divorce? Is that what you're telling me, Milo Young? You want me to go my way and you another?”
He looked up again, walked over to her, and took her hands. “Dawn, we haven't been happy for a long time. All you do is complain about the bills. We don't have fun anymore. I think it's time we called a halt to our suffering. You keep the car, and I'll give you child support for Zach and help you with the bills. At least he likes it here.”
“And how am I supposed to pay for this house by myself? We were having trouble paying the household bills with
two
salaries.”
He didn't back down. “I'm afraid I can't help you with that. I intend to take my name off the deed.”
Dawn didn't believe Milo really meant to do what he said. If anything, she told herself, his unhappiness with their situation had just gotten the best of him temporarily, but it would pass, maybe as early as tomorrow.
It troubled her when he slept on the couch. Again she told herself that tomorrow he'd be back to normal. But the next morning when she went to rouse him he said he wasn't going in, that he had to pack his things. “I've already talked to Zach,” he said.
At that moment she knew he meant to go through with his plans.
“I tried to explain it as best I could, but I think he's still puzzled,” he concluded.
“Of course he's puzzled,” she snapped. “One minute he has a happy family, and the next his daddy tells him he's leaving.”
She managed to keep the turmoil she felt hidden during the ride in and back, telling everyone who asked that Milo had taken the day off. When she returned from work that evening he was gone.
Milo was sharing a room with Carmen and Donald's son back in Brooklyn. Carmen called to apologize, saying Donald had asked her to let him stay but that first Donald had tried to convince Milo to go to his parents. Milo, still smarting over how seldom his parents had driven out to Arlington Acres to visit, felt strongly about not asking them for help. “I didn't want him to be without a place to sleep,” she said.
“I understand. It's all right, Carmen. As angry as I am, I don't want him sleeping on a park bench, either. He'd probably do that before he went to his parents. I know how stubborn Milo can be.”
“I was so afraid you'd be mad at me.”
“No. I'm just disappointed in my husband.” She still couldn't believe how easily he'd given up. Anything worth having was supposed to be worth keeping, wasn't it? And didn't he consider her worth having?
Well, she'd show him. Rich and Donna Wellington were talking on the bus about how they'd refinanced their home. She remembered how the Wellingtons had their basement finished last year.
She and Milo hadn't made any significant improvements, other than the sod that now thrived in their raised backyard, holding the soil beneath it in place. But with the rise in real estate prices, that had to be plenty of time for it to have appreciated. She'd just refinance, get twenty or thirty thousand dollars out of the deal, pay off the credit cards, and still have plenty left over. Once Milo saw what she'd done when left to her own devices, he'd apologize to her and plead with her to let him come home again. She'd let him, of course . . . after she took a few days to think it over and let his ass sweat.
“Morning, Dawn,” Jeff Willis said as she boarded the bus. He glanced around her, expecting to see Milo, she knew. “Hey, Milo off again?”
“No, Jeff,” she said loudly. “He's just not here.” She took a seat up front, confident that her cryptic response told her fellow commuters the whole story without her having to put it into words.
Camille immediately moved from her seat in the middle of the bus. “Dawn? I heard what you said. I didn't know. Is there anything I can do?”
Dawn managed a smile. “Thanks, but no. I don't even feel much like talking, if that's okay.”
“Whatever you say.” Camille took a step back.
“I just need a little space, Camille. Please don't take it personal. We'll walk together when we get to New York like we always do, okay?”
“Sure.”
Camille slowly returned to her seat. She made a mental note not to bring up Milo's absence during the daily walk to her and Dawn's office buildings. Her instinct told her the breakup resulted from financial difficulties. Funny. A woman would share the discovery of a philandering husband before she'd admit they couldn't pay their bills.
“I'd like to speak to someone about refinancing my house,” Dawn said to the woman who answered the telephone at the mortgage company. In spite of everything she'd been through, she couldn't keep the pride she felt out of her voice. She owned a home.
She was put on hold, and then the recording on the other end of the line asked her to please hold for the next available loan officer. Dawn used the time to paint an enjoyable mental picture of a contrite Milo begging to come home again.
“Good afternoon. This is Kevin Capobianco speaking. May I help you?”
“Hello, Kevin,” she began. She introduced herself and explained her reason for calling.
“Wonderful,” Kevin exclaimed. “I'd like to ask you a few questions for basic information, and we'll go from there. You said your name was Dawn Young. Do you own the home alone, Ms. Young?”
She decided Milo couldn't possibly have taken his name off the deed in just a few days. “No, my husband is on the mortgage loan as well, but I don't really want to include him on a second mortgage, unless I have to.”
“I understand.”
You don't understand shit,
she thought.
“And, Mrs. Young, where do you live?”
“Here in Tobyhanna. Our house is in Arlington Acres.”
The pause that followed made Dawn uncomfortable. “Is there a problem?” she finally asked.
“Well, we find that some of the homes in that particular subdivision have been overvalued. Tell me this, who was your builder?”
She named the construction company.
“Uh-
huh,
” Kevin said, none too reassuringly. “And with whom is your original mortgage?”
Dawn proudly named the major banking institution who made the mortgage loan to she and Milo.
“Was anyone else involved, like—” Kevin named the mortgage lender who had handled the paperwork on behalf of the bank.
“Actually, yes, they were. But the mortgage was secured by the bank. We make our check out to them every month.”
“Mrs. Young, that mortgage lending company is owned by the same people who own the construction company that built your house. We've had requests from home owners wishing to refinance, and through those requests we've learned that they engage in unethical practices to qualify borrowers for mortgages who wouldn't otherwise qualify.”
“How could they do that?”
“Like paying the rent of home buyers to help them save a down payment, for instance. Banks like to know that the money used to put down came from their clients' savings, not from other loans or arrangements they made with the financier. They also overstate the value of the homes they build by many thousands of dollars.”
“Listen, I'm not sure what all this means, but are you saying you won't be able to refinance my house?”
“I'm afraid we won't be able to help you out, Mrs. Young.”
Dawn sighed. “Well, lucky for me that you're not the only mortgage bank in town, isn't it? I'll just go to one of your competitors. Thank you.” She hung up, none too gently.
Four phone calls later Dawn found a lender who would refinance her house. They arranged for an appraiser to come out on Saturday morning. Elated, she went to bed that night wearing a smile she couldn't reel in. She'd taken the first step. Milo would soon come crawling back and telling her he'd underestimated her.
“Mrs. Young, I'm afraid we won't be able to help you.”
Dawn's mouth fell open. Carrie, the loan officer she had worked with, had given her the impression that the refinancing was a done deal, and now she was taking it all back. “I don't understand,” she sputtered. “What happened?”
“Our appraiser values your home at $105,000.”
“Well, that's ridiculous. We paid $142,000. Why would we pay forty thousand more than the house was worth?”
“Mrs. Young, whoever did the original appraisal on your house inflated its value. I'm hearing that the appraisers were in cahoots with the builder and the lender who preapproved the loans, and got money from the big boys at the bank. I understand the builder is currently under investigation for this. I know I said I was sure we could help you. I'm very sorry.”
Dawn, sitting at her desk at work, managed to keep her composure, but she wanted to lay her head down and weep. This was the only way she could think of to get the cash she needed to stay one step ahead of the wolves, and now she couldn't do it. She hated to depend on Milo; she suspected his main concern was renting an apartment for himself. How in heaven's name would she make it?
BOOK: If These Walls Could Talk
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