Sea Red, Sea Blue

by Jean James

  Laura went into a lengthy description of her rebuilding plans. She literally overflowed with ideas for her old-new castle.

  “Have they put everything in writing for you?” Katherine asked when Laura stopped for a breath.

  “They’re getting the papers ready. I guaranteed them we wouldn’t pursue any publicity, or anything of that sort. I don’t want to anger them now that they’re so generous.” She giggled happily. “Kay, I’ll call you back. We have to go in now.”

  Relief flooded Katherine. She hadn’t expected such swift results. She swallowed the rest of her coffee and headed back to the office.

  When Lloyd saw her, he motioned her into his office. “Come in, Katherine. Close the door, would you, and have a seat.”

  “Thank you so much for your help with the Frasers. Laura is ecstatic.” She settled into a plush leather chair.

  “I’m glad that concern won’t trouble you anymore.”

  “Yes, but it does bother me the way the bank acted almost…deceitful. Maybe something more should be done.”

  “An honest mistake, I’m sure. I’d forget it, Katherine. By the way, the bank faxed me a statement that admits their liability in this matter. It guarantees they will honor Frasers’ claim promptly and with additional compensation for the delay and mix-up. I made you a copy to use in case you’ve already contacted any news media and need to show them something official to cancel pending actions.” He handed her the sheet of paper.

  She examined the brief, three-sentence statement. Mr. Pinkston admitted the bank’s liability, listed the name of the employee who made the error, and signed it at the bottom. “I’ll file it away with my other papers, but I won’t need to use it. I haven’t contacted any media, yet. Thanks to you, that won’t be necessary.”

  He gave her his best salesman’s smile. “Now, I have an idea that might appeal to you. Your mention of Florida this morning made me think of it. You’ve made it clear for some time that you’re contemplating a move there, and this morning I happened to get a call from a broker friend of mine who lives in Naples, Florida. That’s a spot you’d really love, right on the Gulf, white-sand beaches, wonderful climate. He has new condominium projects that have just reached the sales stage, and he needs salespeople to sell the units.”

  Katherine had mentioned Florida many times, had even threatened to move there, but no one had taken her seriously—or had they? “Naples sounds like a wonderful place, but I’m not licensed to sell in Florida.”

  “You wouldn’t need a license with him. He owns quite a few condominium complexes and office buildings. You could sell directly for him until you have a chance to take the Florida real estate course and get your license.”

  “That sounds like a very pleasant prospect, but…”

  “Let me check further into it. By the way, what deals do you have pending?”

  “Three closings, all of them should come up this month.”

  “It would be a shame to let them get in the way of an opportunity like this. I could easily handle the closings and mail your commission checks to you. Listen, I have to talk with him again in a little while. Let me get all the particulars on this for you.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded, uncertain. “I have to run home for a while.” When she rose to leave his office, he came over and shook her hand.

  “I’m glad I can help a little in this matter, too. I know how you feel about Florida.”

  He might as well have fired me, she thought ruefully as she drove homeward. Brokers aren’t supposed to act like that when they are about to lose one of their top salespeople.

  When she pulled into her parking space, her side mirror revealed a black car parked along the adjacent road—the vehicle resembled last night’s car. The man in the driver’s seat gazed in her direction. Before she could take a closer look, the car melted into the traffic.

  Her hands shook so violently she could hardly unlock her apartment door. After a quick study of the street, she pulled the door closed. Although it felt foolish, she searched the closet and under the bed.

  Katherine turned her thoughts to the life-changing decision that lay before her. She had come home to consider Lloyd’s Florida idea, unhampered by his influence or counsel. She picked up the picture of her father and stared into his loving eyes, as if he could advise her in the dilemma. The sudden ring of her phone startled her and she fumbled the photo to answer the call.

  “Katherine, good news—great news, for you!” Lloyd answered her timid hello. “I talked again with that broker I told you about, Buzzy Amano. He said you could start work immediately. In fact, it’s imperative that you go at once, because he has to put someone in that job right away. I’d recommend leaving tomorrow since you have a twenty-hour drive ahead of you. The job involves both sales and office work, and he’ll pay wages until you get your real estate license. He also said he’d help you find an apartment when you get there. Now how does that sound?”

  She had heard Lloyd use that master-salesman’s voice before. At least, he couldn’t see her face as she stood there speechless, her over-whelmed mind trying to process his information.

  “Katherine? Are you there?”

  “OK. I guess I could leave tomorrow. That sounds…fine.” Katherine wondered if the lure of Florida was clouding her judgement, but last night’s episode intruded on those thoughts.

  “Good girl. I need you to organize your closing papers, and we’ll go over them at the office later today. Goodbye, until then.”

  This is crazy! I’m crazy. Her peaceful life now marched to a fast double time, and she could barely catch her breath. Lloyd’s call may have brought the matter to a head, but she knew he hadn’t caused her decision. The black car had already triggered an alarm inside her. She was afraid to stay in Chicago.

  “I’d better pack now, before I weaken,” she told the picture she still held in her hand. Her father seemed to smile his approval and blessing. “And I’ll pack you, first.”

  She gently wrapped the picture in a robe and placed it in a suitcase before she went on to survey the rest of the apartment. At least she had rented it furnished. Her few personal belongings would fit easily into her car.

  After she called the apartment manager, she plunged into the task with an energy she hadn’t felt for a long time. The outside temperature didn’t encourage fussiness, so the job went fast. She bestowed the overflow on a shocked, but grateful next-door neighbor, and far sooner than expected, she emptied her apartment of everything except a pillow, some blankets, and an overnight bag.

  Late that afternoon, Katherine returned to her office and found Lloyd ready for her. It didn’t take long to review the pending closings. Just as they completed their business, one of Lloyd’s clients arrived for a conference. With no time for further talk, he handed her the phone number and address of the Naples realtor.

  “Good luck, Katherine. We’ll miss you. By the way, your new broker likes to be called Big Buzzy.”

  With Lloyd ensconced behind closed doors, and the only other associate in the office busy with a young couple, there would be no sad good-byes. She cleaned out her desk, bade the room a silent farewell, and left.

  “I’ll send you postcards from Florida,” Katherine shouted to the ice streaked windows of the real estate office as she drove away.

  Dead tired when she got back to the empty apartment, she looked around. No good night’s sleep awaited, not with the memory of the car incident to unnerve her. The descending darkness magnified everything. She couldn’t spend another night.

  She stuffed the last few items into the car, dropped off her apartment key and a final month’s rent check, and drove away. She gripped the steering wheel with nervous hands and watched for the black car.

  Katherine had hardly gone three miles when, all at once, everything felt very right. She laughed as she toiled through work traffic—her last Chicago work traffic. Though physically weary, her exhilaration chased away drowsiness. Sooner than expected, she reached her first goal,
Interstate 65—south.

  “It will grow warmer every mile,” she announced to the face in the mirror.

  No fear clouded the eyes that sparkled back now. Her whole face glowed with excitement. She set her cruise control and eagerly watched the mile markers count up her progress. An enchanted highway stretched out ahead, and she was determined to drive at least five-hundred miles closer to her dream before daylight.

  3

  Two days later, with open car windows and her hair blowing in the warm breeze, Katherine reached Naples. Her front seat held an assortment of tourist cravings, including oranges, grapefruit, a log of pecan divinity, and a dozen postcards. Her left arm had turned pink with sunburn from resting on the windowsill, and she wore shorts, a halter-top, and a happy smile.

  “Could you please tell me how far I am from the beach—I mean a place where I can park my car and walk out on the beach?” she asked at a service station in town.

  The attendant grinned in understanding. He took out a sheet of paper and drew a simple map. “These avenues all end at the beach, and there’s parking at them. This one ends at the city fishing pier, and you can get to the beach there, too.”

  She thanked him and followed the map straight to the Gulf. When she pulled into a parking space at the end of one of the avenues, a delightful view of sand and water greeted her. She took in the grandeur of the scene, but she hadn’t come to sit and look. She locked the car and walked out onto the glistening white beach.

  Thank You, God, for this! Thank you for bringing me safely here, she prayed as she watched the sun set. Water rolled up and seagulls dipped into foamy waves. It was better than she had expected. Thank You for giving me the courage to come.

  She wondered if anyone could have such a grand feeling upon arrival in Chicago, and then she laughed. Of course, they could. Chicago would suit some people. But this suited her.

  For half an hour, she walked the water’s edge, her shoes left behind. Finally, she pulled away and found lodging at a small, family owned motel—an older place almost buried in tropical vegetation and mature fruit trees.

  “There’s plenty of ripe fruit on the trees behind the rooms—oranges and carambolas, and I don’t know what all else you might find. Just help yourself,” the jolly, gregarious owner told her.

  Katherine tramped all over the motel grounds to see the flowers and trees. She loved everything about Naples, especially the friendly, informal manner of the people.

  Daybreak found her at the same parking space she had used the evening before. With one full day to play tourist before she had to report for work, she threw sandals into the car and ran down to the water’s edge. Although she wore a swimsuit, the chilly surf that swirled around her ankles didn’t encourage swimming. A scan of the distant beach revealed a few other early risers, but only one dared the cold water.

  The hard, wet sand felt good to her feet as she started on a long walk. Presently, a boat on the horizon drew her attention. How picturesque.

  She would take a boat out on the beautiful Gulf in memory of her father and their day on the ocean. Maybe God would let him peek down from heaven and enjoy it with her. She watched the boat’s progress until a long pier broke her line of sight, probably the fishing pier the station attendant had mentioned. When she reached its rough wooden stairs, she climbed eagerly to the planks above.

  Most of the people there were fishing. After she had walked the pier’s length, she rested on one of the wooden benches by the rail. The clear water revealed schools of fish in its depths. Boats of all sizes passed at a safe distance from the fishing lines, and she studied them with intense interest. It felt grand to sit there, breathe in the salt air, and listen to the water and the birds.

  After a while, a young boy and girl changed their fishing location to a spot close by. Lying flat on their stomachs at the pier’s edge, they fished around the pilings below.

  “Have you caught anything?” Katherine asked.

  “I got this sheepshead,” the little girl said proudly and jumped up to exhibit a good sized, black-banded fish in a plastic bucket.

  “What did you use for bait?”

  “Shrimp. A teeny piece of shrimp.”

  “Do you catch other kinds of fish here?”

  “Snapper and angelfish and—”

  “And pinfish and cats,” the boy said. “But snapper and sheepshead are the best eatin’ fish.” They showed her their tackle, and she studied how their rods were rigged. Soon they announced they had to go home for lunch.

  Katherine bought a drink and snacks at the pier’s shop and continued her leisurely beach walk. Midday she left the beach and took a self-guided tour of Naples, assuming that her job might require some knowledge of the area. First, she drove to her new office and looked it over thoroughly, even peeked in the window of the locked front door. The sign on the door confirmed that they weren’t open on Sunday. After two more hours of viewing luxurious homes, quaint businesses, and quite a few churches, she chanced upon a marina. She had to stop and look at the boats before she ended the day.

  She walked row upon row of wooden planks and thrilled at the variety of boats. She loved them all. They satisfied something inside her, a yearning she didn’t quite understand, comparable to the feeling she experienced when she looked at the picture of her own boating day.

  At one of the slips, Katherine came upon a midsized boat that apparently had full time occupants. What would it be like to live on a boat?

  Further on, she found the charter boats. One had just come in for the day and the scalded fishermen looked new to the area, too. Their happy laughter told her they had enjoyed a great day, in spite of the painful sunburn. At once, she decided she must charter a boat, no matter what the cost. She owed herself the experience. She copied down names and numbers for future investigation. She also jotted down phone numbers from the occasional for sale signs she came across—just out of curiosity about boat prices.

  A man stepped from the cabin of one boat and waved a greeting to her.

  “Nice boat,” she said in appreciation.

  “Come aboard and have a look-see.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not a buyer, just a looker.”

  “Well, come have a look, then. That won’t cost anything.”

  “I’d love to.” She stepped eagerly aboard and felt the thrill of another day and another boat. “How large is it?”

  “Forty-six feet. I’ve done extensive custom work in the cabin. I put in a completely new galley and installed a lavatory and shower in the head. Go on in and look as long as you like.”

  Katherine couldn’t resist doing exactly that. It didn’t take long to see the possibilities a small area could offer. “I’m amazed at how much you have in there, so perfect and so luxurious,” she said when she came out of the cabin.

  Her compliments prompted the man to show her more extras he had personally added. His asking price, though beyond her means, still sat considerably lower than what she had expected. It planted a seed in her mind for later consideration.

  “Thank you again for showing it to me,” she said as she left.

  It is bigger than my apartment in some ways. He didn’t waste an inch of space, yet it looks neat and comfortable. Someday, maybe, I’ll buy a boat.

  That evening, Katherine decided to visit the beach every morning, even if only for a few minutes. Early the next day she headed straight for the beach and parked in her usual spot. From the water’s edge, she gazed out at the Gulf, now tranquil and tinted with gold. She stared until her eyes burned—until she had clearly imprinted the ocean picture in her mind. Finally, she pulled away and drove to the new job.

  Her broker, a man in his fifties with sleek black hair, unquestionably fitted his ‘Big Buzzy’ nickname in both height and girth. His gaudy clothes proclaimed casualness foreign to Chicago business attire, and his dark eyes leered when she introduced herself as his new salesperson.

  “My goodness, Miss Katherine, here already? This is fine…fine! Come wi
th me. I’ll show you around a little, and we’ll find you a place to stay.”

  She smiled, but his manner left her wordless. In his car, they took a brief tour of Naples, which eventually culminated at a condominium complex.

  “This is one of my newer developments.”

  With considerable difficulty, he removed his bulk from the low-built vehicle and walked with her to the building’s elevator. They toured three models before they returned to the sales model.

  “I planned to introduce you to your selling partner, Alice, but she won’t be here until later. Most days, you’ll sell condos at this location, but on Tuesdays you’ll work as a secretary in my real estate office. You’ll get at least every other weekend off, and any week that you have to work on the weekend, you’ll get a weekday or two off. Now what do you think of my building? Do you think you can sell these homes?”

  “They’re certainly nice, and I like the floor plans. I’m sure they sell themselves.”

  He smiled his pleasure. “Later I’ll show you my other buildings, but let’s head back to the office now.” He patted her on the shoulder and smiled again.

  She sat stiffly and tried to look at the passing scenery with interest, but his very presence made her uncomfortable.

  “You’re all alone down here, a pretty girl like you? Did you bring a boyfriend with you from Chicago?” He patted her hand on the seat.

  She edged closer to her door but tried to answer pleasantly. “I came alone.”

  “My, my, all alone. But this is a nice safe job, and we’ll look out for you, Miss Katherine.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Amano.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Buzzy—call me Buzzy. Everyone does. Or Big Buzzy, if you need to ask a favor.” He laughed and winked at her.

  Katherine hoped her misgivings didn’t show on her face. She decided she would never call him Big Buzzy.

  At the real estate office, he pulled up beside her car.

  “Follow me in your car now, Katherine. We’ll look at a rental that might do. If it suits you, you can stay and get settled.”