Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,21
Josh asked. “I know my Spanish isn’t very good, but what did I say?”
She shook her head helplessly. “It doesn’t matter what you said. They think they know what happened. Anyway, you’ve made their day.”
He looked around at their smiling faces, listened to their chatter without understanding one word, then leaned against a sack of peppers. “How often do you do this?”
She tilted her head back, feeling the heat recede from her cheeks at last, grateful for the change of subject. “Twice a week during harvest. We’re better off than most of the women you see in the market. We grow our own crops so we keep our own profits. Or we would if...” She paused and looked at the driver.
“If you didn’t have to pay the driver. If you had your own truck,” he finished for her.
“You said it, I didn’t.” She gave him a long look. “For every head of lettuce, every mango, every bunch of parsley we sell, he gets half the profits.” She tied her shawl in a knot under her chin, choking back her resentment.
“How much does he charge?” Josh asked with a troubled frown.
“It’s not what he charges. It’s the interest. We don’t have the cash to pay him in the morning, and by evening the interest has risen by fifty percent.”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “That sounds like usury.”
“Of course, but we have no choice. We just hope to break even. They think that’s the way it has to be, but I know better. I know you go to the bank in the spring for seed money and in the fall you pay it back.” The picture of stern old Mr. Grant floated before her eyes and she paused. “Theoretically,” she added.
“You do know what happens if you can’t make the payments,” he said soberly.
“Of course I know. I’ve seen farms sold and I’ve seen divorces and suicides. But we’re not talking about mortgaging the farm here. We’re talking about a truck, one truck, even one used truck in good shape.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t talk about it anymore.”
The wooden slats that held the produce rattled as the truck rounded a curve, and Catherine fell against Josh’s shoulder. She tried to move back to her place, but he put his arm around her waist under her shawl and held her tightly.
“It still hurts to think about your farm, doesn’t it?” he asked, his lips against her ear.
“Yes.” She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it, but sometimes it came back to her like a bad dream. Not as often as before, though. These past eighteen months had been good for her. As long as she stayed far away from Tranquility, California, and the States, she could keep the bad dreams at bay.
“Are you sure you want to take a chance again with a loan, with a bank and with a banker?”
She looked around the truck at the women, at their round, honest faces, weathered by the sun, lined with hard work. “Yes, it’s worth it. If you never take chances, you’re stuck in a rut. If they had a loan...” She bit her lip, determined never to mention it again. She leaned back and closed her eyes, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid to hear him say no again.
Josh stretched his arms along the top of the wooden slats. Taking chances was what bank loans were all about. He’d been a loan officer once. On his way to becoming a vice president. Minimizing risks was the name of the game, and this was a risk that had No written all over it. He reminded himself of the balance of payments, of rising inflation, and all he could think about was the woman next to him, the scent of her hair, the way her body felt pressed next to his and the swaying motion lulling her to sleep.
Was he going to violate every principle of good business just because he was touched by her story? He studied the faces of the women. Or was he going to make a decision based on some cockeyed idea that one truck loan could bring them into the twentieth century?
Take a chance... if you never take chances... The words went around in his brain. His father took chances. His life was made up of one chance after another, and you couldn’t say that he was ever stuck in a rut. To