I Still Dream About You

What Had Possessed Her?

AFTER A FROZEN DINNER, MAGGIE CONTINUED ORGANIZING, AND BY ten-thirty that night, she had all her paperwork stacked into the throwaway and shred piles. Going through all of those old things and seeing Richard’s photograph had brought back so many memories. What had possessed her to stay with him so many years?

Richard did have curly black hair and a sweet nature, but she now realized (too late) that he had also been weak and a little dumb. His father had been the smart one, though he had been completely ruthless in business, a trait she did not admire. In fact, had she met the family first, she might have had second thoughts about getting involved with Richard at all. She had been modeling at a charity luncheon in Dallas when two women demanded in loud voices that she come to their table so they could feel the material of the suit she was wearing, and as they were complaining about how cheap the material was (it wasn’t), Maggie happened to glance down at the name cards on the table and realized it was Richard’s mother and sister. Oh, dear. Not only were they rude, they were two of the most unattractive women she had ever seen. They looked like frogs with large pop eyes. Through some quirk of genetics gone right, Richard was a prince born into a family of trolls, but you never know when those other family genes might strike again.

Richard never did leave his wife. He dropped dead of a cerebral hemorrhage at age forty-six. If that had not been enough of a shock, three days later, she was handed an eviction notice. Richard’s family (armed with a copy of an old canceled check) claimed that he had bought her condo with company money, and not only did they want the condo, they wanted all the furnishings, dishes, silverware, paintings, television sets-things she had paid for. She could have fought them, but in order to avoid a scandal, she left the next day with nothing but the few clothes she was able to pack.

After Maggie left Dallas, she found a job on a cruise ship teaching classes in scarf tying and napkin folding. It sounded good on paper, but the cruise line she worked for was a far cry from the Queen Elizabeth or the Crystal cruises. She had hoped to teach people who wanted to learn about how to set a lovely dinner table, but her classes were filled mostly with children whose parents just needed a babysitter for an hour. And so when her parents became ill and she had to move back to Birmingham to take care of them, it was a mixed blessing. During the time she had been living in Dallas and she had come home to visit her parents or to attend the yearly ex-Miss Alabama reunions, it had been so much easier to keep up a good front. All anyone at home really knew was that she was modeling for a major department store in Dallas or, later on, working on cruise ships. Both professions had sounded somewhat glamorous from afar (they didn’t know the details), but now that she was home for good, it was going to be much harder to maintain even a semi-glamorous image. Her parents’ medical bills were piling up, and she had to find a job, and it was not going to be easy. She was getting too old to model, she couldn’t type, she had failed algebra (twice), so bookkeeping was out, and a former Miss Alabama couldn’t very well wait tables at the Waffle House or Hooters.

After a few weeks of looking, she was on the verge of taking a low-paying, somewhat humiliating job as hospitality director for the downtown Sheraton Hotel. Her duties would mostly consist of greeting people, handing out city maps to conventioneers, making hair appointments for their wives, and arranging shopping tours and visits to the Civil Rights Institute and the statue of Vulcan. But fate stepped in and saved her at the last minute.

THE MORNING OF her job interview at the hotel, Maggie was walking through the lobby on her way out the door when she heard a familiar voice.

“Maggie! Maggie Fortenberry… Hey, Miss Alabama!”

She looked around, but there was no one there. Then, from below, she heard a woman’s voice: “Maggie! It’s Hazel… Hazel Whisenknott.” Maggie looked down and saw Hazel beaming up at her.

“Do you remember me? You used to come to my house for fittings with your mother when you were a little girl.”

Maggie knew who she was immediately (how many three-foot-four people do you meet in a lifetime?) and said, “Of course I remember you. How are you?”

“Great, fantastic, couldn’t be better. How are you?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she lied.

“You look fabulous, as always. I read that you’re living in Dallas now?”

“Well, yes, I was, but I’m home for a while; Mother is not in great health.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. She was always such a sweet lady. I still have that Easter bunny costume she measured me for-do you remember that? With the big ears that stand up?”

Maggie laughed. “Oh yes, I spent hours helping her insert the pipe cleaners so they would stand up, and I helped her sew the cotton balls together for the tail.”

“You did a good job; I still wear it.”

Hazel cocked her head and looked up at Maggie. “Listen, doll, what are you doing right now? Can I buy you a drink? A cup of coffee? I’d love to catch up with you.”

Maggie looked at her watch; she had plenty of time before she had to be home. “Well sure, I’d be happy to.”

Hazel talked a mile a minute as they rode the elevator up to the restaurant on the top floor, telling her about all the things that were happening and how Birmingham was on its way to a big comeback and that a lot of the old companies that had left in the sixties were now coming back, and new companies were moving in. When they got upstairs, of course the maître d’ knew Hazel and seated them right away.

After they ordered coffee, Hazel said, “I just finished doing a breakfast speech for the Lions Club. What are you doing at the hotel? Are you staying here?”

“Oh, no. I was here for a meeting.”

Hazel looked at her quizzically. “Ahhh… a meeting.”

Even though she was embarrassed, Maggie felt compelled to explain why she’d been in the lobby of the hotel. She didn’t want Hazel to think she was a call girl or something. “Well, they’re looking for a hospitality director and wanted to talk to me about it, so I met with them.”

“I see. So you might be home to stay for good?”

“Well… I’m not sure yet, but I thought while I was here, maybe I’d look around for a little something to do…”

Hazel’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean a job?”

“Well. Yes. Maybe…”

Hazel slapped her tiny little hands together. “OOOOH booooy, when I found that penny this morning, I just knew this was going to be my lucky day.” She called out to the waiter, “Hey, Billy, forget the coffee-bring us two martinis,” and then she turned to Maggie with a new gleam in her eye.

“Honey,” she said, pointing her tiny little finger at Maggie, “I’ve been searching for someone exactly like you. I need a gal with looks, class, and style to head up my Mountain Brook office, someone who knows the territory, understands the upscale market, and you would be my dream come true. Forget what they offered you here. With me, you can double it. No, triple it. What do you say?”

Maggie had to laugh. “Oh, thank you, Hazel, you’re very sweet, but I don’t know a thing about real estate.”

Hazel looked surprised. “What is there to know?”

“Well, a lot. I wouldn’t have a clue about how to draw up a contract, for instance.”

“So what? Real estate is more than contracts; it’s instinct, it’s emotion, it’s presentation, and with your looks and background, you would be a natural.”

“Well, thank you, but you don’t understand; I’m really not very smart about details and things.”

“Now look, baby doll, you let me worry about the details. I have sharp gals working for me who can handle details; all you have to do is look pretty and deal with people. I know you’re good at that. What do you say?”

“Well, I’d have to think about it. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me? How could you? There’s no way you can make a mistake. Oh come on, don’t break my heart, say yes.”

“But what if you’re wrong about me?”

Hazel threw her head back and laughed. “Me? Wrong? Oh honey, I’m never wrong. Trust me, you’ll love it… it’s the best business in the world.”

The waiter brought the drinks, and Hazel said, “Thanks, Billy.”

“Hazel, I’m really very flattered, but I don’t know how to sell houses.”

“Okay. Let me ask you this: Are you nosy?”

“Nosy?”

“Yes. When you drive by a house, are you just dying to get inside and see what’s there?”

Maggie thought about it. “Well yes, I guess I am curious about seeing how people have decorated.”

“I knew it! I have instincts. I took one look at you today and said to myself, ‘Now, that’s a real estate woman if I ever saw one.’ But not just any run-of-the-mill everyday real estate agent. You’re a Miss Alabama!”

Maggie hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t want to trade on… that.”

Hazel’s little eyes flew open. “Why not? It’s a terrific advantage. Listen, honey, in this life, where we get so few advantages, particularly women, if you have something that can get you in the door, use it. It’s what happens after you get in that’s important, and using what God gave you to your advantage is nothing to be ashamed of. Look at me: when I was a little girl”-she laughed-“well, littler than I am now, I said to myself, ‘Hazel, the doctor says you’re never going to grow taller than three foot four, so you have two choices: one, you can feel sorry for yourself or two, you can use it to your advantage.’ So, I did.” She took a sip of her martini. “I noticed from an early age that people were curious about me. Why? Because I was not your run-of-the-mill person. Once they met me, they never forgot me.”

“Well, Hazel,” Maggie said, “you are hard to forget.”

“That’s right! I’m different. And that’s our calling card, doll. We both have something of interest about us: Hazel Whisenknott, cute midget. Margaret Fortenberry, beautiful ex-Miss Alabama…”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way. But still…”

Hazel leaned in. “Listen, Maggie, I understand you have a certain standard to live up to; you can’t just take any job. You need it to be a high-level prestige position, and with me, you would be starting at the very top, dealing with only the best clientele. And if you come work for me, I will guarantee you’ll never be sorry.” Hazel looked at her watch. “What are you doing now?”

“Right now? Well, nothing, I guess.”

“Good. I want you to come downstairs with me. I have to do another speech, for the Women in Real Estate luncheon, and then we’ll talk some more. I’m not letting you get away from me, young lady, until you say yes.”

The enthusiasm in this little teeny woman was amazing, and Maggie found herself getting up and following Hazel right back into the elevator like a large dog trailing after the Pied Piper. She had been forced to make so many decisions lately. It was a relief to just let someone take charge and tell her what to do next. Hazel had already plied her with liquor before noon, and Maggie thought it was a good thing Hazel wasn’t a man. With her powers of persuasion, she probably would have been pregnant by now.

Before Maggie knew it, Hazel had her downstairs and in a seat in the back row of the huge ballroom packed to the rafters with hundreds of women. After being introduced, Hazel walked out on the stage to thunderous applause, stepped up on a wooden box, flashed her famous smile, and began her speech the way she always did: “I’m so happy to be here today; I can’t tell you how much I look up to all you gals in WIRE”-pause-“but then I look up to everyone.”- Wait for big laugh.-“You know, the other day, I was out to lunch with Susie, one of the girls from my office, when a friend of hers she hadn’t seen for a while came over to the table and asked her what she was doing, and Susie let out a big sigh and said, ‘Oh, I’m just a real estate agent.’ After the friend left, I asked her why she had said ‘just’ a real estate agent. And she said, ‘Oh, because she has a really important job.’ So, just in case we have any Susies out there who think your job is not important, I’m here to remind you just how important it is. Home ownership is not only the backbone of this country, it is the secret of a successful society. Once a person owns a home, he has something invested not only in himself, but in his country, his state, his city, and in his neighborhood. As a home owner, he has a stake in everything and everybody around him. It’s the reason people flocked to America from all over the world, with nothing but a strong desire to work hard and a dream of one day owning a home of their own. Don’t forget, private ownership is still a pretty new idea in the time frame of the world, so when you help a family buy a home, you may be fulfilling the dream of generations of that family. And one day, a family member will be able to say, ‘This is mine; I own it.’ ”

She paused and smiled. “Now, I have nothing against renters, you understand. Our rental department does very well. I used to be a renter myself. But with just ten percent down and a forty-year mortgage, I was able to buy a house, and to this day, I will never forget the moment when my real estate agent handed me the key and said, ‘Welcome to your new home.’ I felt at least ten feet tall, and for me, that’s twenty feet.”-Another big laugh.-“So, remember, when you help a family buy a home, you’re not just typing up papers; you’re helping that family make years of memories. If you don’t believe it, every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, you ask people what they’re doing, and they’ll say, ‘I’m going home.’ I’ll bet everyone in this room can close their eyes right now and still remember the house where they grew up. How many times have we heard people say about a house, ‘This was where I was the happiest, this is where I raised my children.’ A home is a special place that will live in someone’s heart forever.

“I know our business is hard work, and sometimes we get caught up with all the little details, but never forget that you are part of one of the most important transactions in a person’s entire life, the biggest investment in the future most of us will ever make. Remember, you’re not just a real estate broker, you are a dream broker. So get out there, girls, and keep on selling those dreams!”

As soon as she finished, the entire room leapt to their feet and cheered, and Maggie, who was not even a real estate agent, jumped up and screamed along with them. She was ready to run out the door and start selling houses that day. But as Maggie was to find out later, in all the years she was with her, she’d never seen Hazel do a speech where she didn’t get the same reaction. The truth was, Hazel had never really stopped being a cheerleader. She cheered for life itself.

After going through that terrible ordeal in Dallas with Richard’s family, she had been depressed. That’s probably why the day Hazel Whisenknott had walked back into Maggie’s life, she had been like a spring tonic. It had been said about Hazel that she was a person who could change your mind about the entire human race.