“Good. You’re alive, so that means you didn’t get mugged last night,” Terri said, resting a coffee cup on her desk and folding her arms as Octavia strolled through the office the next morning.
“Nope. God protects His own. Plus, Landon provided extra security.” She childishly stuck out her tongue.
Shaking her head, Terri tsked before picking up her cup. “I’m sure that was a sight to see—a homeless man scaring off a mugger.”
“Homeless today, CEO tomorrow. With his personality, Landon will rebound. He mingled with the seminar attendees as if he was at another networking event. I believe God will restore whatever Landon lost, and who knows, I might be the agent to sell him a $500,000 home.”
Her friend’s chuckle turned into an annoying laugh. “I want to see his credit score and be at that closing.” She tee-heed some more. “I doubt Kmart would give him a credit card.”
“Stop hatin’.” Octavia frowned, offended by her friend’s remarks. “It’s the grace of God that we have a home, job, car and everything else. You don’t know Landon’s story.” She settled at her desk—the small space she rented every month—and pulled out her laptop.
“So what’s his story?” Terri lifted an eyebrow.
“Don’t know, but I have a good feeling about him. Landon is a fighter, and he’ll get back into the ring.” Octavia got up and strolled into the small kitchen and placed a sack lunch in the office refrigerator, then scanned the daily message board.
Terri was on her heels. “You have a lot of confidence in a man you know little about. What you see with that man is what you get: nothing. That also goes for James. What you see is what you get.”
“Is James paying you a commission to sell him to me or something?” Terri had never been so resolved about any other man she had tried to set her up with.
“Nope. I know a good man when I see one.” Terri leaned closer. “If you wanted to, I bet you could have that man eating out of your hands.”
A puppy. She smiled. Hadn’t she felt as if she was treating Landon like a stray dog the night she left him at Mac’s Place? “I’m sure James is everything you say, but Landon is a soul who needs help.”
“And I need bridge work, but my dentist isn’t volunteering free services. Weeks ago when I teased you about male companionship, I didn’t think you would go to the salvage yard and pick one out. I just get a sense he’s using you. Didn’t you say he doesn’t want to go to church? So when are you going to cut him loose? Surely, Mr. McCoy or Rossi could pick up the slack from here.”
“Neither does James, but he won’t come out and say it. We’re done here.” Octavia doctored her coffee and returned to her desk. Terri sulked back to hers. If Octavia was a train engine, she would be spewing steam out the stack. She calmed down and said a prayer, then got up and strolled to Terri and waited while another agent asked a question. When they were alone again, Octavia took a seat. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Let’s keep it that way. You’ve crossed the line with that hurtful statement about another human being. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that because no friend of mine would ever say something that demeaning. Now, I’m drawn to Landon for God’s purpose, which is unknown to me. I like him as an individual. We may even become friends at some point. As for now, I’m reaching back and praying him forward.”
“I just feel you can do better than spending time with him.” Terri looked away, contrite. “My apologies.” Her eyes teared. “It was a bad choice of words. Sometimes you give so much of yourself away and get nothing in return. I mean, the Bible says the poor will be with us all the time.”
“Just so you know, I did invite James, but he had other commitments,” she paused. “Don’t twist scriptures out of context, T. If you really understood the entire passage, you would know that a poor woman gave Jesus the best she had. Read it for yourself in Matthew 26.”
Both of them were saved by the bell when the phone rang and the call was for Terri. Octavia took a deep breath and allowed her emotions to settle. How was Terri to know and even understand that God had a GPS tracker on Landon’s soul?
Enough. It was one thing for Landon to occupy her thoughts, but not her day. She had work to do. Back at her desk, Octavia made follow-up calls, including to Frank Lindell from the mixer.
“Octavia, I was hoping you would call sooner than later. I’m meeting some colleagues for lunch, and I would like for you to be my guest,” Frank didn’t waste time saying.
As long as he didn’t try to ogle any of her body parts, which were well covered, despite the heat, they would do fine. “Of course. When?” She pulled out her day planner.
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Actually, in about an hour. I’m leaving my office now.”
“Okay…” She scribbled the name and address to use the GPS ap on her phone, then ended the call.
As she grabbed her purse and locked her desk, Terri asked, “Where are you going?”
“To lunch.”
“But you brought yours.” Terri frowned.
“True, but I can’t turn down a lunch invitation from Frank Lindell at the Algonquin Club Country.”
“Ooh.” Terri nodded. “No, you can’t! That’s how you make that Million Dollar Club,” she paused. “You know I love you and I’m in your corner?”
“I know,” she replied softly, “but every now and then someone needs a friend. Remember that.” She waved. “I’m gone for the day. I have two showings later.”
As she drove, her mind revisited her argument with Terri. Landon didn’t come across as a man who used people. Should she be concerned? A passage from Galatians 6 came swiftly. Be not weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if you don’t faint. The opportunity is there. Do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.
The GPS guided her onto a two-lane road. A white wooded fence that sectioned off the golf course led her to the entrance of Algonquin Golf Club: private members only. She had heard from other agents that it was considered an elite golf and country club in St. Louis. She saw why and wondered how many African-Americans had been members since it opened more than one hundred years ago.
While checking her makeup, Octavia gave herself a pep talk. She was always on display when she networked, but when it came to judges, CEOs, attorney, and doctors who didn’t share her skin hue, she prayed that wouldn’t be a barrier, but a blessing. She always prayed Jesus would give her favor with her BA in Business and her MBA.
She stepped out and smoothed any wrinkles on her dress. Her pearl drop earrings and bracelet jazzed up her simple tan dress. She walked with confidence to the entrance and was about to ask for her host when she saw Frank coming to meet her. “Perfect timing. We haven’t ordered.”
His smile relaxed her nerves as he shook her hand and then led her by the elbow down a short hall to a dining area where the men out-numbered the ladies as guests.
Frank pulled out the chair and took his seat beside her. Once the introductions were made, the server attended to them, serving salads.
“So, dear, when was the last time you attended the National Association of Realtor’s conference?” Mrs. Ashen, a retired surgeon Octavia recalled from the introductions, asked.
“Although I’m a member—” She stayed current with its news—“I’ve never been.”
“Oh,” another woman at the table said with an expression of disbelief.
“So what’s your area of expertise?” Frank asked.
“I’m a realtor, which sums it up,” Octavia stated. Not all real estate agents could boast that distinction without being a member of NAR, which was why she paid her dues, but her allegiance was to the National Association of Real Estate Brokers. NAREB was established as the black counterpart when non-whites couldn’t join Realtor organizations, which made her proud to be called a Realtist. “I like to build and nurture relationships, so when a friend is in need of my services, I can provide them with the highest level of professionalism.”
That seemed to buy her smiles. After a few hours and a couple drinks from her guests, the mood was festive, but Octavia had to go back into the city to show houses where the sales would barely pay her booth rental at the office.
“I’m having an afternoon tea tomorrow. I would love for you to come,” Mrs. Ashen said.
Octavia tried to tame her excitement, so she wouldn’t come off as unpolished. This was the open door. Yes! Octavia was about to accept, but she remembered tent revival. Her answer was a no-brainer: being in the hot sun to win souls vs. an air-conditioned party. “I would be honored. However, I have a scheduled engagement tomorrow afternoon that I can’t miss.” She smiled. “Another time I hope.”
“Let’s hope,” Mrs. Ashen said in a tone that was hard for Octavia to decipher.