He couldn’t believe his good fortune. For weeks he’d walked around with his head in a noose and suddenly he was free. He knew exactly what to do. He got up from the desk and crossed to the closet where Cora maintained what amounted to a shrine to her dead husband’s memory. Being the sentimental fool she was, she’d held on to a number of items that had belonged to him, among them his personalized stationery and his Mont Blanc fountain pen. Tom extracted an envelope, several sheets of letterhead, and a few pieces of blank paper. He then sat down at Cora’s typewriter (Loden’s before his death) and flexed his fingers, preparing himself as though for a piano recital. Using the blank paper and a bit of ingenuity, he composed a letter thanking the vice president for his concern. He confessed he’d been out of the country and had just returned to the States after four years away. Having the account brought to his attention was fortunate, as he was currently entertaining an investment opportunity for which the above-referenced funds would be swiftly set to work. He requested that the account be closed and the money forwarded to him at the post office box he’d maintained during his absence. This was, in fact, a post office box that Tom had set up some time ago so that any private business of his wouldn’t come under Cora’s nose. He rolled a sheet of Loden’s stationery into the typewriter and went to work. His typing was clumsy, but he managed to get a clean copy after three tries. If the bank had kept any previous correspondence from Loden Galsworthy, it might be noted that the typeface, the writing paper, and the fountain pen nib were all a match. Now all he needed was Loden’s signature.
On Cora’s office wall, there was a certificate of appreciation for work she’d done as a Red Cross volunteer in 1918, when she was twenty-one years old. It was a boilerplate document, hundreds of which must have been doled out to the women who’d donated thousands of hours of free labor, but she’d framed it and hung it as though she were the sole recipient. Loden Galsworthy had been one of the three signatories. She’d told Tom that she and Loden often spoke of the amazing coincidence of this link between them before they’d even met.
He took down the framed certificate and spent twenty minutes or so perfecting Loden’s signature. Then he signed the letter, folded it, placed it in the envelope, and added a stamp. All in a day’s work. He’d drop it in the mail on his way to the bank. This was truly a gift from the gods, an answer to his prayers. He felt incredibly light and free.
He hadn’t realized how anxious he’d been until the crisis had passed. Now he didn’t have to worry about Cora’s penury. No more wheedling, no more maneuvering. In one stroke, all his problems had been solved. As icing on the cake, his lunch with Chet Cramer the day before had gone very well. He knew Chet had agreed to listen to his pitch only because he and Livia coveted membership in the country club to which the Padgetts belonged, but he thought his presentation had been effective. Chet had not only seemed interested, but he’d asked Tom to work up a business plan to pass on to his accountant. Tom intended to work on that shortly after lunch.
He drove to the bank and made a deposit, tucking the forged dividend check in with some miscellaneous checks of his own. With the $65,490.66 that would soon be his, he no longer needed the measly $356.45, but he’d already forged Cora’s signature so why not proceed? He’d learned never to waste his efforts. Once he made a plan, he carried it out-a principle that had always paid off handsomely for him.
He chatted with the teller, completed his business, and was just on his way out when he ran into the loan officer, Herbert Greer, who’d clearly made a point of intercepting him. Tom had been avoiding him because he knew the guy was going to press him for the money he owed. Now, with his newfound funds waiting in the wings, he greeted Greer like an old friend, shaking his hand with real warmth. “Herb, how are you? I’m glad I ran into you.”
Herb was clearly not prepared for Tom’s friendliness after weeks of evasions and excuses. Herb said, “I thought you were out of town. I left a couple of messages with Cora earlier this week, and when you didn’t respond I assumed you were off gallivanting around.”
“Not me. Cora’s the one who’s gone. She took off this morning to visit her sister up in Walnut Creek. Naughty girl. She didn’t mention you’d called. I had no idea.”
“It must have slipped her mind.”
“No doubt. She’s usually good about these things, but she was in a rush to get packed and on the road. Anyway, I was going to stop by your desk earlier, but I saw you were on the phone.”
Herb was cautiously pleased at the suggestion, probably imagining he’d have to tackle Tom and bring him down before any such appointment would be made or kept. “Why don’t you have a seat at my desk and we can do that right now?”
Tom looked at his watch, his expression tinged with regret. “Can’t. Daggone it. I’m having lunch at the country club with Chet Cramer and I’m late as it is.”
“I thought I saw you at the club with him yesterday.”
“True. I didn’t realize you were there. You should have stopped by the table to say hello. I think I might have mentioned we’re in discussions about a partnership. He knows the heavy-equipment business, which he says isn’t that different from a dealership.”
“I had no idea you had a deal in the works. Good for you.”
“Well, we’ve yet to hammer out the details, but you know him. There’s a guy who takes his time. No point in pushing him. He likes to have all his ducks in a row before he takes the plunge.”
“We’ve worked with Chet for years. He’s solid as they come.”
“Tell you what, if we can reach an agreement, I’ll bring him along and maybe we can talk about ways to make this thing work.”
“Always amenable. I hope you’ll give him my regards.”
“Happy to.”
“Shall we say Monday? Ten o’clock?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
And for the first time in his life, Tom left the bank feeling optimistic. As soon as Loden Galsworthy’s money came in, he’d be able to expand. Now all he needed was another big whack of cash so he could pay off his bank loan on Monday.
25
By the time Daisy came out of her bedroom at 8:00 Saturday morning, Tannie had left for home. From my makeshift pallet on the couch, I’d heard her come out of the guest room and creep into the bathroom, quietly closing the door. I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, she was slipping through the living room with an overnight case in hand. Out on the street, I heard her car start and then all was quiet again until Daisy got up.