Down And Out In Flamingo Beach

Bill, a man in his early forties, on the paunchy side and graying, presided behind a big oak desk with several golfing trophies on it. The wall behind him was glass and looked down on the busy main street. He stood when Joya entered.

“Just look at you. I remember when you were about this big. Knee-high to a grasshopper,” he said, holding his hand palm down.

Bill was only a decade older than Joya, but his gray hair made him look much older.

She smiled graciously and shook the hand he held out. The preliminaries over with, Bill waved her to an overstuffed chair on the other side of the desk before sitting down again. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I hear the bank is offering business owners interest-free loans to spruce up their properties. Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true. With the upcoming centennial only a few months away, we hoped to make Flamingo Beach a showplace. What surprises me is that your grandmother didn’t take advantage of our offer. I assumed maybe financial difficulties and pride kept her from applying.”

“Financial difficulties? What do you mean?”

A flutter of panic began in Joya’s gut. Granny J had never said a word about having money problems. It wasn’t until the two irresponsible saleswomen had claimed not to have been paid that Joya had sensed something might be wrong.

“From your expression I gather this is news to you,” Bill Brown said rising and pouring them two cups of water from a pitcher. He handed Joya one.

She nodded, finally managing, “Just how bad is it?”

Brown stroked his smooth chin. “Well, let’s see. Your grandmother came in about a year ago to get an equity line of credit. She was keeping up fine and then a couple of months ago she began falling behind.”

“I see,” Joya said, although she didn’t see at all. “Exactly how much money does Granny owe?”

Bill turned his attention to the monitor on his desk, pecking on his keyboard. He made some rapid calculations and eventually named a figure.

It wasn’t an astronomical amount. Joya had enough from today’s sale to pay up the loan and still have a few dollars in reserve.

Joya fished in her purse, removed the envelope holding this morning’s take from the sales, and carefully counted the bills out. She separated the money into two piles.

“I’m here to make the payments on that loan,” she said, “I don’t have Granny J’s book with me. I’m also here to discuss getting one of those low-interest loans with you.”

Bill pushed a button on the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Brown,” came Marlene Miller’s querulous voice.

“Will you come in, please.”

Miss Miller entered and stood reverently before Bill’s desk.

“Will you please deposit this money in Mrs. Hamill’s equity account,” Bill said, “The other money goes to her checking. Bring me back both receipts.” He scribbled what Joya assumed were both account numbers on a yellow pad, tore out the sheet, and handed it to Marlene.

“Certainly.” Tossing a curious look Joya’s way, Miss Miller turned and left them.

“So you wanted to talk about a loan?” Bill Brown said.

“Yes, I do. The stores around Granny’s shop are all being renovated. I don’t want Granny J to miss out. She’s owned her property for almost as long as Flamingo Beach has been around. It would be a shame to let it go down.”

“I agree.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Bill told Joya about the loan options and the terms available. He told her she could fill out her application online and that she would receive approval in less than twenty-four hours.

“Will Gran’s delinquent payments affect her getting this loan?” Joya asked. “You did say she was dutifully making the payments up until a couple of months ago?”

“Your granny has been a very good customer of the credit union. Except for the equity line, she owns the building out right.”

Marlene Miller was back, handing her tangible proof of the transactions. “That copy has your grandmother’s balance,” she quickly pointed out.

Joya thanked her and stood. Bill, always the gentleman, stood and followed her to the door. He handed Joya a couple of folders.

“Read this information and discuss it with Mrs. Hamill, then get back to us. You have my personal guarantee you will have your loan.”

After shaking Bill Brown’s hand and thanking him, Joya left.

As Joya came up the walkway she spotted Deborah and LaTisha, both looking somewhat put out. They sat on the porch step, gazing out onto the street.

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” LaTisha pouted.

A slight exaggeration. Joya had only been gone for maybe an hour.

“You’re late for work,” Joya said, not cutting them any slack. “If you’d been here on time I wouldn’t have had to lock up.”

“It’s payday. We need our money,” both said in unison.

Deborah stood, stretching. “You owe us for two weeks plus this week.”

Joya had been prepared for something like this. She had the feeling these two had been getting away with murder for quite sometime.

“You haven’t worked this week,” she quickly pointed out.

“I did,” LaTisha hastened to say.

“Half a day and barely,” Joya countered. “Let’s go inside.”

The business could remain closed for another fifteen minutes while she did what she needed to do. She was going to make an executive decision and not consult Granny J.

Joya was betting both women were minimum-wage employees. She did some rapid calculations. What was left of the proceeds of this morning’s sale would barely cover two weeks’ salary for both ladies, and if she were to give them another two days’ pay as a token, it would pretty much clean the business account out.

But the afternoon was young and she was counting on selling the remainder of the sale items plus a few new ones. She unlocked the front door and allowed both women to precede her in. Then she locked the door behind her.

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