Salem's Daughters (5 page)

Chapter 5              Burned Bridges

The past fifteen minutes had been a blur. Fifteen minutes. That’s all the time it took for Nippon International to sever ties with Bob and literally kick him off their premises. Fifteen minutes compared to a lifetime of employment and security wherein he could build the rest of his life and plan his retirement.

Ever since he was fast tracked four months ago to be the new Midwest Executive Vice President of Sales, Bob had run the personal financials over and over to the point where Debbie asked him to stop quoting the numbers. Of course, the next two decades would experience good years and downswings in the economy. Surely there would be more promotions.

He factored everything into the countless equations and algorithms he developed using paper and pencil, Excel, and statistical software programs. Regardless of the scenario, after twenty-eight years, he would retire at the age of fifty-five with a cushy upper middle class lifestyle.

Now, instead, that manipulative back stabbing Ronnie Taylor was sitting in the corner office he was promised. Bob sighed. He tossed the unopened manila envelope in his back seat in disgust as he drove. Still stunned, he just wanted to go home and gather his thoughts. Talk to Debbie. She was always a source of inspiration.

Even though many of her ideas were less than practical, her enthusiasm would make them work. Oh, he’d have to call a certain percentage of what her ideas were as plain wacky. So far out you couldn’t even see the box. Debbie often went against the grain, but she somehow found a way to make them work.

And now he needed Debbie and her gumption, wisdom, and perseverance. Debbie. His love and soul mate. She was more than just a wife and eventual mother to his offspring.

She was his best friend and the smartest person he had ever known, having bailed him out of countless foolish situations. Yet she never tried to take credit or force him to acknowledge her brilliance that rescued him from the consequences of his male oriented decision making process.

Debbie
.

Oh, crap!

Bob grabbed his android from his inside jacket pocket. He looked at the time on his dashboard. Nine thirty. Good Lord Almighty. Bob hoped it wasn’t too late. He called his wife.

Before he could say a word, Debbie answered and said with much excitement, “So how is my new junior executive? Bob honey, I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do this.”

Bob didn’t know what to say. There was a long pause he could not fill.

“Bob? Are you there?”

“Honey, please tell me you didn’t give your notice.”

“I did better than that. I quit. And I’m so glad I told that jackass of a manager off right in front of everyone. You should have been there.”

Bob slammed on his brakes. He lost focus and almost ran a red light.

“How’s your new promotion, Mr. Vice President of Sales for the Midwest. That sounds so dignified. It rolls off my tongue like honey off a hot buttered biscuit. I’m going to call my mom and dad and tell them it’s official.”

Bob took a deep breath. He just had to say it. “I … I got fired.”

Silence thundered.

Several seconds later Debbie cleared her throat. “Um, fired? Did I hear you say fired?”

“Yes, dear. Fired.”

“Bob, honey, I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. But I was just sacked.”

“What happened? Phil. He promised. He and your dad helped build the company when it was little more than chicken shit.”

“Don’t know what happened. Well, I do know now, but basically Phil took me into Human Resources where Ronnie Taylor was.”

Bob forced back the urge to vomit at the thought of Rotten Ronnie and his smug arrogant smile, his mouth and gums lined with large polished monkey teeth.

“Rotten Ronnie? Are you kidding? Bob, please say you’re pulling a joke on me.”

The light turned green. Bob eased forward. He didn’t have the energy to step on the accelerator and ignored the beeping of the angry driver behind him.

“Debbie. Sweetheart. I wish I could. But it’s true. The Japanese executives, and Phil, thought I was too much like my father. Old school, they said. Can you believe it? They told me Ronnie was more progressive.”

“No. No, no, no. We can’t accept this. Bob, you need to turn around and get your job back. Forget about the promotion. Just get your old position back.”

Bob almost rear ended the car in front of him.

“Listen to me. There’s nothing I can do. My place with Thorbough and Tomlinson is over. What can
you
do to get
your
job back?”

The reply took longer than Bob wanted.

“Nothing. I burned that bridge down to way below sea level.”

“I thought you were giving a two weeks’ notice.”

“I’m sorry. But Bernie is such a jerk. He went into one of his tirades. He belittled a sweet innocent little intern. I couldn’t take it. So I told him off and quit on the spot.”

Bob didn’t know what to do. But he understood they were both unemployed. He needed to take charge, not argue and instigate a yelling match. He spoke in a gentle tone. “Don’t worry about it. Where are you now?”

“I’m on my way to Linda Ryan’s house. I have an idea. I’ll try to arrange a meeting at the bank today to sign the papers for Old Country Tuscany Olive Oil.”

Bob’s ‘Numbers Rule the World’ mind kicked into high gear. He couldn’t allow hope to stand in the way of reality.

“Honey, listen to me. You no longer have a job. Neither do I. Translation, we’re both unemployed. The bank giving you a loan, as part of their due diligence, will look for one of us to be gainfully employed.”

Bob could hear the despondency in his beloved’s tone. “This is really bad timing. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Since we no longer have a paycheck, neither do I.” He entered the 131 South toward Caledonia. “Meet me at home. We need to figure out what the heck we’re going to do.”

Chapter 6              Despair

Debbie refilled Bob’s coffee cup and sat with him at the kitchen table. A month earlier she’d be pouring his second cup into a travel mug and they’d be walking out the door; him on his way to work, she to her new business.

But this early July morning Bob still sat, mulling over the bills and budget. Instead of the papers being stacked in nice neat piles, they were spread out in a big mess. Debbie was concerned for her husband’s well-being. He looked disconnected, still in his morning robe, with four days of dark stubble on his face.

“Bob, honey, are you okay? I think we need to get out of the house. It’s the Fourth of July weekend. We can take a walk. Or go see a movie.” She sniffed the air. “After you shower and shave.”

Bob didn’t look up. He keyed more numbers into his calculator while shuffling through the bills. “This is not good. I don’t know how we’ll make it. We have about four, maybe five months’ worth of savings and investments—including my
oh-so-generous
severance package—of money to live on. Six if we really cut back. And that’s it.”

Debbie had to inject enthusiasm into this conversation. It was bad enough Bob was descending into a twenty-four hour grump. Now she was feeling his anxiety.

“We’ll both find new jobs, sweetie,” she said with a mixed tone of authority and encouragement. “It’s only been a month since we lost our jobs. We just have to be patient. The right doors will open up. Trust me. You’ll see.”

Bob held up two statements and acted as if he didn’t hear a word Debbie said. “Look at our student loans. Together they total over a hundred thousand dollars.”

He set them down and shuffled through the mess of other various documents. “And somewhere in here are bills for two cars payments and five credit cards. Not to mention our home equity line of credit.”

Bob looked around the well-furnished house. “Look at all this furniture we bought. Unbelievable. What were we thinking? We might have to sell everything. We’ll have to eat and sleep on the floor.”

He looked directly at Debbie. For the first time since she had met him, she was genuinely startled. Dark circles formed around his eyes. He had lost ten pounds off an already lean frame and he was in dire need of a haircut.

Bob continued his unblinking gaze. “We’re in deep trouble.”

Debbie refused to quit. She felt her heart jump. A problem? A challenge? She was up to it. And she would pull Bob up from his dark pit of despair.

“Something will break. If today is problematic, then tomorrow is a brand new day full of opportunities.”

She reached across the table and held his hand. “Don’t worry, Papa Bear. Something amazing will open up for the both of us. I promise.”

Bob pulled back and scrolled through his tablet. “I called everyone I know—family, friends, Pastor Thompson. People from high school and college. I thought for sure I could get another job. But nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. That jerk Rotten Ronnie blacklisted me. I don’t think I can get a job, at least not here in Grand Rapids.”

“What about Detroit?”

“Tried. Nothing.”

“Chicago? Cleveland, maybe?”

“Too far of a commute. We’d have to sell the house and move there. After I find employment first.”

He tossed the bills on the table. “How about you? How’s your job search going?”

Debbie fidgeted, then sipped her coffee. “Nada for me as well. Seems like Bernie Butthead blacklisted me, too.”

Bob gave her a stern look. “You should show respect for those who signed your paycheck, regardless of how difficult of a personality they are.”

Debbie cupped her chin in her hands. “He’s still a royal butthead.”

“What about Linda and Old Country Tuscany Olive Oil?”

Debbie knew Bob was getting desperate. He had not asked about her business venture during the past thirty days.

“The bank won’t include me on the loan docs. Linda, Janette, and Monica waited two weeks for us to get new jobs.” Debbie sighed. “But they had to move forward without me.”

Bob stood to stretch and yawned. “You’re right. We need to get out of the house.”

Debbie wasn’t about to let an opportunity pass. She stood and met her husband before he could change his mind. “Great idea. And, as your wife, I submit to your authority. Let’s see a movie.”

Bob shook his head and scratched his facial stubble. “No can do. Movies cost money. But, we can take that walk.”

Debbie knew when to concede and find the middle ground. “Okay, a walk it is, hubby of mine. But only after you take a shower. And please, a shave? And after that, I’m giving you a haircut.”

Chapter 7               Now or Never             

Bob plopped the stack of bills on the kitchen table. He didn’t bother to open the new ones that came in the morning’s mail. The pile was larger than last month’s.

Adding to their financial dilemma were new expenses. Four new tires for Debbie’s car. Fixing a slab leak under the living room. Carpet cleaning and water damage bills. A risky investment in a stock that went south. These unforeseen costs added to his stress and eroded away two months’ worth of savings.

He looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall: 11:08 a.m. He and Debbie were still in their bathrobes. Debbie’s inherent enthusiasm and encouragement waned as they accepted summer was coming to a close, as were opportunities for finding a decent job. Hiring for good positions in Michigan was largely seasonal, and once summer ended, so did the probability of going back to work.

Bob rubbed the stubble on his chin and looked up at Debbie as she sipped her first cup of coffee. His always positive and forward moving wife was beginning to look a bit haggard. But of course he would never tell her that. Bob couldn’t think of anything else to say. Better to let her start the conversation.

“It’s Labor Day weekend, sweetie. Come on. Let’s do something fun,” Debbie muttered. “Anything. I have to admit, I’m frustrated. This summer has been a roller coaster of emotions.”

“Welcome to my world. No money, honey. I’m looking at the numbers. Our savings is dwindling faster than expected. At this rate, we’ll last another month. Maybe two. And that’s all.”

Debbie rubbed her head and massaged her fingers deep into her scalp, making even more a mess of her hair.

“And then what?”

“Then,” Bob said in a reserved manner, having accepted what he thought was inevitable. “We’ll have to put our house up for sale.”

Debbie pushed her chair back and stood. “No. That’s unacceptable. Something will break. Trust me. Tomorrow’s a new day. No way are we selling our house.”

Bob noticed Debbie had far less conviction in her words. But his honey was trying. He admired her eternal optimism and desire to push forward.

That’s one of the allures that caused him to fall in love with the ravishing, blonde haired, hazel eyed beauty. He stood and walked around the table and held Debbie in a Tango pose, his six foot two frame rising almost a foot above her.

“Listen to me. We have to be realistic about our situation. We can’t risk going into foreclosure and losing what little equity we have. The bank, they’ll short sell our house and recoup what’s owed and that’s all.

“The greedy bastards won’t care about our assets. They’ll look out for their best interests, not ours. And without jobs, we can’t pull any money out of the house. You have to understand, this is the way the world works.”

Debbie forced Bob to lead her into a horizontal dip. “I say we hold out. So what if we get behind on payments. If the bank short sells our house, we can legally live here for months.”

Bob pulled her up and gave her a quick spin. “No. We can’t have bad credit or bankruptcy. Not an option.”

“So where does this leave us?”

Bob reached with one arm and picked up the pile of bills, held them level to Debbie, then tipped his hand and dropped them in a cascading free fall. “We have enough cash left for one last mortgage and utilities. Car payments. Credit cards. Student loans, too. That’s it. You need to be realistic and face the facts. This is our reality. Right here. Right now.”

Debbie, still in Bob’s other arm, snapped her fingers. “Job prospects. What do we have?”

Bob snapped his fingers back in a mocking fashion. “Not a damn thing. What do you have?”

Debbie had to laugh. “Nothing.”

Bob returned to his normal self. “Same as me. Nothing.”

Debbie, submissive but not quite ready to relent, peered through sleepy and sultry Marilyn Monroe bedroom eyes. “So, Mr. Numbers Man with all the answers, what do we do now?”

Bob had to take charge and fight off his urge to spend another day with Debbie cooped up inside the house. Not that he was complaining, but he did need to balance pleasure with business. He released Debbie from their tango pose.

“You need to follow my lead. We did things your way over the summer. And you did your best. I love you dearly for that. But these are the facts and I need to take action.”

Debbie sat back down and sipped her coffee. “Okay, you win. I’m on board. What do you think we need to do? I’ll follow your lead. You know I trust you.”

Bob flipped the wall calendar one month forward and wrote a large X with a red pen. “I’m setting a goal of thirty days from today. If we both don’t have good jobs, then we’ll run out of cash. We will miss November’s mortgage payment.”

Debbie folded her arms on the kitchen table and buried her head.

“For now, save everything.” Bob sighed. “We’ll have to go to food banks at local churches.”

Debbie looked up and scowled. “No. I’m not going to show my face at our church pantry. Or any local pantry. They all know us. I’ll be humiliated.”

Bob placed his hands up to slow her down. “I know. We’ll go to Battle Creek and visit the Catholic churches.”

Debbie wagged her head, then clutched Bob’s hand. “That’s it. No more. I can’t deal with this. We need an escape. This is Labor Day Weekend. Go take a shower and get dressed. Right now.”

“Where are we going?”

“For a drive.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m packing a picnic basket with leftovers from the fridge. And a couple bottles of wine. Now get moving. One hour. Then we hit the road.”