MissManaged

Chapter Six

Tobin

The whole time we shared a pizza yesterday, my anger at Charlotte’s situation grew. How dare Pastor Brown stiff her on the money the church owed her? Despite her claims to the contrary, Charlotte needed that money, and it wasn’t to buy luxury items. Her car was almost ten years old, and her apartment was on the lower-income side of Walker’s Grove. It wasn’t an exactly unsafe neighborhood, we didn’t have any of those, but it was certainly run down, and her building had seen better days.

We’d reviewed the flyer she’d created and made a few small tweaks. Then I paid for lunch, and we parted ways, my mind still churning. When I’d arrived home after stopping at the hardware store, I got even more mad when it hit me that I’d wasted my time with Charlotte being pissed instead of present with her. Sure, we’d accomplished everything we needed to, but I was distracted the entire time. It ended up being a purely business meeting, unfortunately.

“What’s got your boxers in a twist, son?” my dad asked from behind me.

I stopped rage sweeping the barn floor and turned to face him.

“Charlotte told me something that made me angry, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

He threw up his arms in frustration. “Toby, you’re not doing anything about being angry with her. You’re only having a professional relationship with her. If she makes you this mad, maybe you should take it as a sign that this is not the woman for you.”

“No, Dad. I’m not angry at her, though she was throwing around some attitude yesterday. She told me that Pastor Brown is refusing to pay her for work she did for him”— I paused and chuckled—“after I stopped her from confronting him at the diner during lunch. I thought she was going to march over to his table and take his head off.”

“She’s got a little temper on her, huh?” my father noted. “Good thing you’re not pursuing her.” He gave me a look that I ignored, making him sigh in frustration. “Do not do anything that will make her quit again. Your mother and I love the ideas she’s coming up with and the photos she’s taken look great.”

“I was thinking I’d go pay Pastor Brown a visit and get her money for her. That won’t make her quit. In fact, she’ll probably be so grateful she’ll forgive me completely,” I mused.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt like this was the way to smooth everything over with Charlotte. She may have said she didn’t need the money, but the way she couldn’t meet my eyes afterward told me that wasn’t entirely truthful. If I showed up with a check, she had to agree to leave the past behind us, and then maybe we’d have a brief discussion about her lies…

“Tobin.” My father’s voice shook me out of my daydreams. “If you want to collect her money, I’m not going to discourage you, but don’t expect her to fall all over you in thanks.”

I cringed because that was exactly what I was hoping would happen.

“Do it because you care about her as a person and because you’re a good man who wants to help a friend.” He held my gaze for a moment. “Got it?”

I nodded. “Yeah, Dad. I got it. We’re friends and this is a friendly thing to do. No expectations for anything in return.”

He nodded back, and I returned to sweeping, this time plotting and planning my visit to the pastor.

The next morning,I approached Charlotte’s apartment building slowly, taking in everything I’d missed the first time I came here.

Then, I was nervous about my apology and afraid she’d turn me down, so I’d been blind to the peeling paint on the old house that had been split into three units. She lived downstairs in the front of the house.

The porch steps shifted and groaned when I stepped on them, and I noticed the entire structure needed to be sanded and reinforced before it fell off the front of the house.

The driveway held a rusting pickup truck, a mini-van with a large dent in the rear passenger quarter-panel, and Charlotte’s old sedan. Of the three vehicles, hers looked to be in the best shape, and that wasn’t saying much.

I pushed the bell and clearly heard the loud tones ringing in her apartment.

Then I heard Charlotte yell, “Coming!”

A second later, the curtain on the door moved, and I caught a sliver of her confused face before she unlocked the door and opened it.

“What are you doing here, Tobin?” she asked.

“Nice to see you, too, Charlotte,” I replied. “Can I come in for a minute? I have something for you.”

She looked even more perplexed at my statement, but she opened the screen door and stepped back to let me inside.

“How are you today?” I asked, sweeping my eyes around the combined living room and dining room that stretched across the front of the house. To the right of the front door was a two-seater couch, a comfortable looking armchair, a coffee table, and a small entertainment center that held her television. To the left was a round table with two chairs. Nothing matched exactly, but she’d coordinated everything with paint, pillows, and colorful rugs on the hardwood floors. I knew little about decorating, but it looked homey and comfortable.

“I’m good. Tobin, what’s going on?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip while studying me. I couldn’t tell if she was nervous because I was looking around her home or because I’d shown up unannounced. Probably both.

“Do you mind if we sit down?” I asked but didn’t wait for an answer.

Deciding that the dining table would be more business-like than her small sofa, I took one seat and waited for her to sit in the other.

“I know you said you weren’t having any financial problems,” I began while taking a folded envelope out of the front pocket of my dress shirt, “but—”

I didn’t get any farther before Charlotte interrupted me.

“I’m not taking your money.” She pushed her chair back and folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t need it.”

I tried again, taking a breath and scanning the table for a second in an effort to remain calm in the face of her petulance.

“I know you don’t want my money, but this is—”

“No. Put that away. I won’t accept money from you.” Her tone was one I wouldn’t use on an enemy, and I couldn’t figure out why she was being so harsh. We were friends, I thought.

“Charlotte,” I said, setting the envelope down and lifting my hands in surrender. “I don’t know why you’re being so hostile, but if you’d just let me finish, I could explain to you—”

“I’m hostile? Well, at least I’m not patronizing and controlling,” she shot back, and now I was the one who was thoroughly confused. “I will not let you take over my life.”

“I’m not trying to take over your life. I’m trying to help you,” I explained, but that was the wrong thing to say.

Charlotte stood so fast her chair hit the ground behind her. She leaned over the table, both hands flat on the surface, eyes flashing with anger.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want any man’s help. I can take care of myself,” she ground out in barely restrained fury.

“Really? You can take care of yourself?” I shot back.

“Yeah, I can.”

She straightened and crossed her arms again but stayed standing across from me.

“Is that why there’s a giant stack of bills right here and the one on top is stamped past due?” I slid my hand to the left and grabbed the pile of papers. “I wonder what I’d find if I look through the rest of these.”

“No,” she cried and came around the table and tried to snatch them out of my hand, but I was too fast. I turned my back to her and looked at the next one.

“Here’s the electric bill, and it’s also late.” She pulled at my shoulder and tried reaching around in front of me, but she was too small. “And here’s the cable bill. It’s stamped final notice.”

“Tobin, stop! Those are none of your business.” She smacked my back hard enough to sting, and I’d had enough.

Before she knew what was happening, I spun around in my seat, set the bills on the table, and had her facedown over my lap.

“What are you doing?” she screeched. “You can’t do this—”

I silenced her with a firm smack to her behind.

“Be quiet, Charlotte.”