Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,37

come into the bank tonight to make their deposit, I’ll give them a pep talk. There’s a lot riding on their success. If it works...”

“You’ll get your promotion.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. The implication of self-interest was unmistakable and hurt him as if she’d stabbed him with a knife. He took her by the shoulders and held her while the women around them froze, watching the scene with wide-eyed fascination.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “I made this loan against my better judgment. But I want it to succeed as much for your sakes as for mine. If it does, they can go on to make a business out of farming, not just subsistence. If they have a business, the men might be able to come home from the mines and work the land with them. Who knows? Maybe they could dam up the river and make a mill.” His blue eyes blazed.

There was complete silence in the stall when he finished talking. Everyone had their eyes on Josh, straining to understand why he was so angry with their beautiful, good-natured Catherine. Only Catherine knew, and her cheeks burned. But he wasn’t finished yet.

“I don’t know what kind of bankers you’ve dealt with in the past, but I think I should be judged on my own merits or faults. I gave you the loan because I believed in you, whether I was right or wrong. It may not be the smartest thing I ever did, but I did it and I’m going to do everything I can to make it work out for you.

“But it isn’t going to work if you’re going to resist every time I try to help you. Yes, I want you to be successful and pay it off. Sure that will make me look good. But it will make the villagers look even better, and then they can go on to bigger things. But to make it work we need each other, you, me and them.” He let her go, but she could feel the pressure of his fingers on her skin after he went up the street, out of the market and back to the bank.

Without speaking she unloaded a crate of melons with trembling fingers. The other women followed her example, and soon they were laughing, arguing and bargaining as they did every day. Jacinda’s eyes were full of questions, but she confined her conversation with Catherine to the number of sheep in the dowry and the color of her dress.

Catherine answered calmly, but underneath she was a torrent of emotions. She was ashamed of herself. She knew that deep down Josh wasn’t only interested in his career. He’d pretended to be, but he wasn’t. He’d even made plans for the farm. Far beyond what she’d ever dreamed of. She wished she didn’t have to see him at the end of the day. She knew she ought to apologize, but she dreaded it.

At dusk they counted their money. They packed their goods in the truck and spread burlap over the crates. The women were excited. It had been a good day. For making money, but not for making friends, Catherine thought. They walked to the bank, the cash tied in cloth sacks deep in their pockets. Josh was waiting for them. She let the women go first. They spread out the money on the counter and counted it in front of him.

They were doing it all without her, and they were proud of themselves. They should be. For the first time there was no driver to pay off at the end of the day. The women were going to a conference room with a big blackboard and a man who spoke Mamara. They each had a deposit slip in hand. It was their second lesson, and this time it was for real. They had real money and they would make a real deposit. Catherine turned to share the moment with Josh, but he wasn’t there.

Maybe he was called away to speak to another client. She thought of going to the receptionist and asking to speak to him, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ready. But she was ready on the next trip. She’d had time to memorize her speech.

“You were right,” she’d say. “There was no reason to drive home in the middle of the night. I was so excited about the truck I wasn’t thinking clearly. Thank you for taking me to dinner and thank you