Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit by Paul Goldman (general ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Waitingfor you, waiting for all of this, and now that it’s here I'm readyto grab it all. What I will apologize for is making you feel likeyou weren't a part of it. You are. You are a part of everything Ido and I want you to understand that.” I stopped, promising myselfI would say no more until she gave me some sign, some hope that shewas open to what I was saying.

“I accept your apology,”she said plainly, still staring out of her window and not showingany signs of moving.

“Okay, so now what?” I washesitant to assume a next move. “Shall we go in?”

“Yeah, okay.” And withthat business-like agreement, Audrey slowly opened the door andheaded toward the front entrance without so much as a glance in mydirection. Still feeling completely lost, I slowly got out andfollowed her in.

The office was brightly lit, overly airconditioned, and filled with the sounds of Neil Diamond’s voice. Awoman at the front counter, dressed in a cardigan that bore acertain shade of orange I had never quite seen before in nature,provided an enthusiastic greeting. We took our seats in theconference room.

I shifted uncomfortably in the club stylechair, trying to get comfortable and generate some body heat whilewe waited, and just as “Forever in Blue Jeans” was officiallyburned in my brain, a middle aged man in a short sleeved dressshirt and blue tie abruptly came in and greeted us.

“Mr. and Mrs. Goldman,thank you for choosing our loan company for your transaction,” hebegan, and he handed us each a loan application.

“It is not Mrs. Goldman,”Audrey insisted firmly as I felt the old wound reopen. “Call meAudrey.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “Iwill need two IDs from both of you.”

“I can’t be on the loan,”Audrey again spoke firmly. Between her coldness and the painfulrefrain of “Song Sung Blue,” I was all but ready to walk out thedoor. Audrey may have said she accepted my apology, but I stillfelt like I was being punished.

“Why not?” I askedcalmly.

“Because my damn husband,Joe Munson, destroyed my credit,” she said, looking down, stillunwilling to face me. It occurred to me then that all of this angershe’d been feeling may have had very little to do with me. If herfinances were in ruins because of her first husband, perhaps thatmay finally start to explain some of her behavior. The loan officerinterrupted my thoughts.

“Well, if you have badcredit, Audrey, it will make it a lot harder to qualify for theloan with both you and Mr. Goldman on it. Or, at the very least,the interest rate will be higher.”

“Of course, we want thelowest possible rate,” I replied softly, reaching out for Audrey’shand. “I guess I’ll be the only one on the loan then.” With that,Audrey squeezed my hand and looked at me for the first time in aweek.

“Thanks for understanding,Paul,” she said sweetly. Audrey then stood up, tossed herapplication on the desk, and said, “So, I guess I’ll only be on thetitle then, and not the loan. Could you please tell me where theladies room is?” A brief nod toward the back of the office wasprovided by the loan officer, and Audrey was off, leaving me thereto feel the slight reassurance of our reconciliation.

But only slightly.

* * *

With the struggleover Saratoga Ranch quickly becoming a distant memory, Audrey and I spent thefollowing weeks and months feeling normal again, at least our ownversion of normal. Each new week found me counting the minutesuntil Wednesday, and each Saturday morning watched me sulk as Isaid goodbye to my part-time wife. The highs and lows that definedour week made me feel like I was on a constant roller coaster ride,with no hope of getting off. Despite our unconventionalarrangement, I was still relieved that we hadn’t let our blowupover the house ruin what we had. I was happy, while also harboringa hidden fear that any little event might cause anotherconfrontation and another chance of her walking out the door. I hadto get Audrey to open up and reveal more about her past if therewas to be any chance of having a real future with her.

As another Saturday morning came too soon, Iwalked Audrey out to her car to send her off to her grandmother inCocoa Beach. I opened her door, told her how much I hated herleaving, and I kissed her goodbye like I did every week. And likeevery week, Audrey smiled, nodded, and accepted my kiss beforeshutting her car door and peeling off down the road heading north.On this particular Saturday morning, however, Audrey stopped hercar halfway down the driveway and rolled down the window.

“Hey, Hanukkah is nextweek. Why don’t we have a party, so our parents can finally meeteach other?” The brown spirals of her hair were now spilling out ofthe window as she tilted her head to keep me in sight.

“Sure. That’s a greatidea,” I replied, disbelieving that Audrey had taken such aninitiative and interest.

“Leave all the details tome,” she said. “You have enough on your mind taking care of yourbusiness.” And with that, she rolled her window back up anddisappeared down the street, leaving only a trail of loose graveland a pleasantly surprised husband in her wake.

Though I had alwaysattributed her lack of words of endearment for me as part of herguarded personality as opposed to any real ambivalence about ourlove for each other, I was relieved and elated by her offer to plana holiday party for our families. I drove the forty miles south tomy home office. As long as a renter hadn't been found, I was happyto spend Saturdays through Wednesdays in Boynton. I enjoyed thehouse because there was so much to do. Between my work and caringfor my ten thousand square foot garden, time passedquickly.

On the Wednesday of theparty, I raced back to JupiterLakes, curious to see what Audrey had comeup with. I had no idea what was in store.

Even before turning the corner onto ourstreet, I could hear the sounds of a loud air pump. When our housecame into view, the sound explained itself. On the front lawn sattwo enormous, inflatable snowmen with swirling snowflakes dancingin