Look Both Ways Read Free Page B

drew together inquisitively. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is your position with Sealand?”
    She turned and lifted one of her brand new business cards from the crystal holder, a gift from her parents, and held it out to him. “Executive vice president. My responsibilities include, but are not limited to, managing the company’s mortgage-lending division. I report to the president of the company, which, in his absence, makes me the head honcho in charge of this division.”
    His penetrating gaze was weakening her resolve. “Now, how can I help you?”
    She tilted her head to the right and tried not to come undone, but out of sight, her legs trembled and her heart pounded furiously.
    “I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot, Miss Cross. I’m here on behalf of six individuals, maybe more, who were turned down for loans with your company. The only common thread is that all six were attempting to purchase homes in the same neighborhood, Cedargrove Heights. Four of the six were easily approved elsewhere. Our concern, Miss Cross, is the reason they were denied credit with this company.”
    Deacon Jones grunted as Rev. Cartwright continued.
    “Other lenders readily approved their applications. Since there were no problems with the applicants, it must have been the neighborhood. That’s redlining, Miss Cross; a practice that’s severely frowned upon by all bodies that govern the lending industry.”
    “I’m familiar with redlining, Rev. Cartwright, and it is a serious matter. Do you have proof of your suspicions?” she asked calmly, having regained some control over her runaway emotions.
    “The proof is obvious, Miss Cross. Cedargrove Heights is a predominately black community. It’s an old neighborhood with some blight, but its residents are mostly proud and conscientious homeowners. Quite a few professionals live in the older section. They’ve raised their families there. First-time homeowners, some newlyweds, and quite a few older couples are purchasing the less expensive homes in newly developed areas. The neighborhood is very special to me. I grew up there.”
    Awestruck by his charm and still angry at his intrusion, she tried to concentrate. There was a gleam in his eyes, a sparkle. She imagined his inviting lips on hers and felt at once ashamed, angry, and aroused.
    “May I ask how all of this concerns you, Rev. Cartwright? If you’re here in a legal capacity, you should speak with the honcho in—”
    “No, no; I’m not an attorney, Miss Cross. My church, Cedargrove Baptist, is in the heart of this community. The six families in question attempted to purchase homes in this particular community, and those attempts were met with discrimination. I’m a concerned citizen, as is everyone here. We want to try and settle this matter amicably.”
    His smile had disappeared. Susan was happy to have riled him almost as much as he had rattled her.
    “I’ll certainly take your concerns under advisement, Rev. Cartwright. If this problem exists, I can assure you, Sealand will handle it in a responsible and equitable manner. Please provide the names and phone numbers of the applicants in question and I will forward my findings to them.”
    Deacon Jones stood and shook his head, saying, “No way, sugar pie. We ain’t giving you nothing. You ought to have records of the people you turned down. We don’t want you to get back to us. We want answers now. That’s why we come down here.” His fingers fumbled with the breast pocket of his jacket while his eyes strayed to the crystal ashtray on the table. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”
    Susan watched his elastic jaws fold and elongate like an accordion. In this gnat of a man, she saw generations of crusaders whose tireless fight for equality had not ceased. That, and her profound respect for his age, prevented an equally nasty reply.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but this is a no-smoking building, Deacon Jones. You’re correct; we do