From the book Chapter Four:
Frank frowned at the mortgage payments, which were exorbitant in 1976. The payments were around seven hundred dollars, plus utilities and upkeep.
We moved a week before closing, so we didn't have to pay another month rent at the apartment.
Frank was a Union Steward for the FPC in Maxwell and went out of town for a union meeting. I couldn't wait one more day. I hired James, the maintenance man at the apartment complex, and rented a big truck equipped with furniture pads. We moved all the furniture in one day.
Jack, the man next door, introduced himself and offered to help. It was thoughtful but I wanted to do it myself. The lot was bounded by three streets, Highway 143 was in front, old highway 14 was on one side, and the dirt road to the lake was behind the house. Jack was our neighbor. We loved it. Everywhere we looked was open space.
Amazingly we had enough furniture to fill the five-thousand square foot home. Frank came home that evening and we got the bedroom set up. Everything about the house was huge. The eleven-and-one half foot ceiling made me feel like I was walking around a Palladian villa in Italy.
The smallest room in the house was fourteen by sixteen feet. We had four bathrooms. Our bedroom was the largest room with two doors opening onto a beautiful porch with massive, white columns holding up the roof.
The porch overlooked a spacious, marble patio surrounded by a flower bed bordered with bricks. Two huge, old Cedars stood guards on the left side of the patio. Three ancient, wild chestnuts joined branches, and the one closest to the porch sheltered the roof with its branches. The trees seemed animated, as squirrels jumped constantly from branch to branch. Behind the Cedars, was the guest house which was originally slave quarter.
I was so proud I thought I'd explode. My biggest dream came true. The house felt as comfortable as a tailored dress. The first night Frank and I slept there, we felt we were in a huge barn in the country. The feeling of accomplishment, happiness, and pride was equal to what I felt at Sabrina's birth.
Frank, the baby and the house were my biggest accomplishments. I had a husband who worshipped me, a beautiful child, good health, an executive job, the mansion on the hill, and I was still in my prime. I was close to thirty-five then, still beautiful, intelligent, strong, and healthy.
When I cranked the Mercedes in the morning, and drove out our big, circular driveway, I looked in the rearview mirror and congratulated myself.
We were so happy! I must have been born under a lucky star. I needed to spend more time being thankful, relaxing, and enjoying life, but I had more goals. I always wanted a business of my own, and I thought about opening an antique shop in the house. I wanted to help Sabrina achieve her gold medal in roller skating. My family and I would be on top of the ladder, I had the strength to fight. Frank always thought I was crazy, but he stood behind me, which I appreciated.
One week after the closing of the house, March 17, 1976, I awoke to a rush day. I cleaned the kitchen, the bathrooms, made our beds and fixed Frank's and Sabrina's lunches.
"Sabrina, wake up. Time to get ready for school. Hurry up, Sabrina; I've got the car running. Get your sweater, it's chilly."
It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was lulled by the notes of Moon River on the radio when Sabrina started singing.
"Baby I can't listen to you and the radio at the same time? Let me turn the radio off and you can sing to me all way to school."
"What can I sing for your mom?"
"I don't know, why don't you start with Paper Roses?"
"Here we are, Third Grader, be sweet and don't bite the teacher." I admonished her when we arrived at the school.
"Oh, mom!"
"I love you Sweetheart. Bye."
As I turned my Mercedes towards Wetumpka, my thoughts turned into my job. Entering the office I called out my usual, cheerful greetings. An office girl handed me my mail while I looked for the office keys.
"What did I do with the key?" This purse is worse than a junk-yard. I am so confident today, I'm going to make at least four sales."
As I settled at my desk, the phone buzzed. "Tina," my secretary, Mary Lee said, "would you please pick up line two?"
"Thank you. Hello, this is Tina Hartley, may I help you?"
"Mrs. Hartley, this is the telephone company. Our man will be at your house to install your phones at nine thirty."
"Good, thank you, I'll be there to let him in."
As I left I instructed Mary Lee. "Please tell the boss I'm on my way to Briller Brothers. I'll call from there. Then I'll go home to meet the telephone man. Oh by the way, please make four copies of this letter and mail them to these agencies for me. I've signed them, so you don't have to wait until I come back."
I made my sales calls and went home.
"Well, I see my friendly phone man beat me to the house. Have you been waiting long?"
"No, Ma'am, I just got here."
"Good, let me tell you where I'd like the phones installed." He followed me. "Now," I said, "one in the den, one in the kitchen, two in this room, one on each night stand, one in the baby's room and the red one in the playroom."
"OK, Ma'am."
"Listen, I got a few calls to make. How long will it take you?"
"A couple of hours, Ma'am."
"In that case. I'll leave and come back. If I don't return would you please lock up on the way out?"
He nodded.
I drove slowly, looking for the address of my next prospective customer. I parked and entered the building.
"Good morning, Sir, may I speak to your general manager, please? I'm Tina Hartley with the local radio station, and I have a special program I'd like to discuss with him."
He picked up the phone. "Mr. Marvin, will you see Tina Hartley? She's a radio representative."
I looked around trying to determine the size of their advertising budget.
"Ma'am," he said, "You may go in."
"Thank you. What's the manager's name, please?"
"Mr. Mawlin.". I thanked him again and knocked at the manager's door.
"Good morning, Mr. Mawlin. How are you in this beautiful day?"
"Okay, thank you. Do I detect an accent?"
"Yes, you do Sir. I was imported from Italy. I'd like you to listen to this new Johnny Cash program. When the recording is over, I'll present my idea how to sponsor the program and advertise your product."
We were quite while the tape played.
"Good, good, that sounds good," he said.
"I'm glad you liked. I knew you would." I handed him a paper with an ad typed on it. "This ad would be the ideal."
We talked about the cost. "I'm glad you liked it Mr. Mawlin," I said. "How about signing this contract and I will start the first of next month?"
"You came prepared, didn't you? How did you know I'd buy it?"
"Female intuition, Mr. Mawlin. Let me see…today is March17th, right? I have about thirteen days to have it ready to run."
He walked me to the door.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you and talking to you, and I hope we can establish a long lasting business relationship. I take care of my accounts personally. I'll call you before the end of the month to see if you have any specials to advertise." I shook his hand.
He opened the door. "Is that your Mercedes?"
"Yes, it's an old diesel and I love it to death. I put a new engine in it a few months ago. It was expensive, but I decided to keep it until it's an antique."
"Stop by any time for a cup of coffee."
"I sure will the next time I come by. Thank you and have a nice day.
I congratulated myself. Good Tina that was a hell of a start for today. This will be your lucky day. While I got into the car, I looked up and saw Mr. Mawlin looking at me from the glass door. "Now to the next stop I said."
Oh my God, what's happening? I can't keep the car on the road, I'm sliding. Oh my God! That's all I remember. Everything went black.
When I raised my head and looked at the rearview mirror, the whole trunk of my car was pushed up and smashed. I slid across the seat to the right door, because the left door was jammed. A tall, well dressed, blond, heavily made up woman approached.
"I'm sorry, I tried to avoid you, but I couldn't. Are you hurt?" She asked.
I checked myself and didn't see any blood. "No, I don't think so. I've got a headache. Brrr…I'm shaking. I suddenly felt cold. I reached for my raincoat in the back seat and put it on. My, I'm shaking! It must be the nervous shock. Well, Miss…what is your name?"
"Mayreen, I work for Lum Real Estate Company, down the road."
The policeman, a tall, dark-haired fellow, was kind and sweet about the whole thing. He explained there was a tar spill on the road. After filling the accident report, he talked to his partner who was directing traffic.
"Here is my business card, Mayreen. Do you have yours?" While I handed her my card I wondered how long it took her to paint her face every morning.
"Yes, I have one. Here," she said.
Please write your insurance company name, address and phone number on it." "The tar caused us to lose control of our cars. She pointed to a car parked in front of the 7-11 stores to our right. "That lady was coming towards you, but she avoided you by turning into the store parking lot." Mayreen was still talking, but I wasn't listening. I wondered why she hadn't turned into the store parking lot.
I wondered if she was day-dreaming or retouching her makeup.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Well, it's done now!" I replied.
The policeman came back. "Where do you live Mrs. Hartley?"
"You won't believe this, officer. I don't even know my address. We just moved a few miles up the street, across from Speedy's market."
An old, short, curious lady stepped out of the crowd. "You bought the mansion up on the hill?" She asked.
"Yes Ma'am and I'm proud of it." I answered.
After the policeman left, I was still shaking. I told Mayreen I'd call the radio station to have somebody pick me up.
When I returned Mayreen was looking her car over she drove a red Chevrolet, which looked like it was part of the trunk of my Mercedes.
She hit me so hard.
"Well, Mayreen," I said. "Bob is picking me up and we'll make your office our first stop. Call your insurance company and tell them what happened and I'll call mine."
"Okay, see you later."
Bob showed up thirty minutes later. The poor fellow was so fat After hanging up I realized something was wrong it took him a while to move around. He was always late.
"Tina, what happened. Are you hurt? You're shivering and it's not that cold."
"I guess the shock did it. I've got a terrible headache."
"Did you call Frank?" He asked.
"No, not yet. I've been too busy talking to Mayreen and the policeman. Let's call him now." We walked into the store.
"Hi Dad, I had a wreck here in Millbrook."
"Are you hurt?" His voice trembled.
"No, I don't think so, but the car is in bad shape. I think I can drive it to the garage though."
"Forget the car. You can always buy another. I'm glad you aren't hurt. Take care of yourself. I love you. Bye."
Bob looked at me. "Tina, before your next call we have to stop by a garage because my tailpipe is dragging."
I knew he was talking about the car's tailpipe, but I couldn't help looking at his behind. As fat as he was, it was dragging, too!
"Okay, but first we have to stop at Lum Real Estate. Mayreen is waiting to call her insurance company."
When we arrived to Mayreen's office she was on the phone with her insurance adjuster. She motioned for us to be seated.
"Before you hang up, I'd like to talk to him, Mayreen."
She handed me the phone.
"Hello Mrs. Hartley? I don't think my insurance company can pay for your damages, because it wasn't due to the negligence of our insured, it was caused by the road condition."
I was feeling bad and lost my temper. "I can't help the cause of the accident. She hit me in the rear and she's responsible. I'm notifying my insurance company, and you can settle this between you. By the way, my car will be moved to the Mercedes Benz garage to have the damages estimated. They are familiar with the car and will fix it properly."
After hanging up I realized something was wrong. I'd never been so harsh and rude in my whole life. I turned to Bob. "Let's go!"
Back in the car we headed towards the garage. "Bob, your tailpipe sounds like we are dragging a string of beer cans."
"Yes," Bob said. Hope we make it to the garage before we lose it."
I was flushed for being upset. "Did you hear that son of a gun trying to escape responsibility on the bases of non- negligence? What a bunch of unprofessional!"
"Why are you shaking?"
"I don't know…it's pr-r-probably the shock, and that phone call didn't help."
We were silent until we got to Bob's garage. While Bob talked to the mechanic, I stood near an electric stove in the corner. The heat felt good. The mechanic said it would take about forty minutes to finish. We waited.
"Tina, you're sure pale," Bob said. "Here, take two Librium's. They'll calm you down and stop you from shaking. It's making me miserable watching you."
We stood by the stove discussing business. When I looked at my watch it seemed an hour had passed, but it was only a few minutes.
They called us when the car was ready. I didn't feel like giving a sales pitch to anybody. I suggested we go back to the office.
"It's a good idea. You can make a couple of phone calls and reschedule your appointments." Bob said.
"Boy, my head hurts! It's been a hell of a day." I said. "At least I had a good start and made a big sale."
In the office we had a sales meeting and reorganized for the following day. We wrote advertisements and cut commercial tapes. That way we'd be one week ahead on our production work, avoiding misunderstandings with the disc jockeys. They fussed when we gave them things to tape at the last moment.
At three-thirty I took two aspirins and wrote letters to agencies trying to sell sponsorship for our new Hank Williams program. After finishing, I buzzed Bob and asked me to drive me to my car and follow me to the Mercedes Benz dealership. Thank God when we got there the car cranked, which meant I didn't have to fool with a wrecker. What a relief. I saved fifty dollars.
Some curious kids were looking at my car, and I ran them off. The car stopped. Crossing my fingers, I turned the key and pulled the starter. The generator light came on, but the gas needle didn't move. I knew the tank was full. I thought, Boy! I got hit so hard it broke the gas needle. Hope it didn't hurt the frame of my old Betsy. I'd hate to see her in the junk yard.
She stopped again. I tried to crank it one more time. The glow plug was red- hot. I pulled the starter and the car started.
"Make sure you follow me, Bob, I might have trouble on the road. I hope we can make it to the dealership."
When I arrived at the garage, Curtis and the other mechanics gathered around and made fun of me.
One said, "If there is anything harder and stronger than a Benz, it's a wop's head." The owner's son Ray, came to look at the car. "Howdy, Tina, what happened to you?"
"Nothing to me, I hope, but the car sure took a beating!"
"Yes, I see it did. Why don't you junk and buy a new one?"
"You sun of a gun, you don't miss a chance for a sales pitch, do you?" I handed him the car key.
"Okay, Tina, I'm glad you weren't hurt."
"You and me both! Thank you Ray. I'll check with you for the estimate."
"No, don't call me, call the body shop," he said.
"Okay, good-bye!"
Bob and I went back to the office to close up for the day. I was exhausted.