Chapter 41

              "Mr. Meadows" came the call over the office intercom.

            "Yes, Mrs. Keeting, what is it?"  George answered.

            "You have a visitor to see you.  A Ms. Perkins," came the reply

            "Does she have an appointment?  I'm in the middle of coordinating some important  papers needed for today's close."  George answered.

            "She says it'll only take a few minutes," Mrs. Keeting answered.

            "Okay, send her in."  George gave in reluctantly.  He wheeled his desk around as the door opened.

            To his pleasant surprise, Ms. Perkins was Ms. Shawanda Perkins, dressed in a suave two-piece blue-skirted suit and three-inch heels.  She glided into the room with the smoothness of a professional model.  One foot was placed almost directly in front of the other as the toe of her shoe encountered the floor slightly before the heel.  Her hair was once again fluffed out full and draped down to sweep gently over her shoulders.  The slight cosmetic touches were again impeccable and she wore a radiant beam of a smile.

            "Good morning, Mr. Meadows," she said professionally.

            "Well, well, well," he replied.  "To what do I owe the honor of so special a visitor this morning?"  He asked.

            "May I have a seat?"  She asked.

            "Of course, of course," he said as he held out his hand toward one of the leather-covered office chairs opposite his desk.  She elegantly moved around in front of the chair, brought her ankles together, and slowly and gracefully seated herself.

            "Mr. Meadows," she began as George leaned back in his chair with a quizzical look on his face as he wondered why she was being so formal.

            "I don't like to..." she hesitantly as if trying to choose each word very carefully.  "to impose on our...our... friendship."

            "Sure, sure," George said.  I'd hope we were at least friends.

            "I need a favor," she continued.

            "If you need a favor, you've got a favor," George snapped, actually quite delighted that he might be able to do something special for this vision of loveliness.

            "I know you are a man of means and influence..." she continued.

            "Yes, yes," George was growing impatient.  "How can I use my means and influence to help you?" He asked directly.

            "Jesse's grant for money for his last year of grad school has been denied."  She said as she lowered her eyes."  "I wonder if you would do something about getting it restored."

            As she looked up after finishing the statement, he thought he saw moisture in her eyes.  Yet he couldn't help but let out a whistle as he turned away, stood up and walked to his office window.  Whirling around after a moment he blurted out, "He's as close to a mortal enemy as I have and you want me to help him?"

            Shawanda sat silently, her eyes lowered again.

            "It might be better if he did drop out."  George went on.  "Then maybe he'd go back to wherever it is he came from and leave you alone!"  He almost shouted.

            Shawanda stood to her feet and looked him in the eyes.  "Mr. Meadows, I realize it's difficult and you must realize my struggle in even coming here to ask, but," she paused a moment.  "He doesn't know I'm here.  He doesn't know I am asking, in fact, he'd be furious if he did know.  But, Mr. Meadows, we don't have the resources that you do."

            George understood that she meant we (black people) and you (white people).  He didn't like the separation but he knew what she meant and even knew that to some degree it was true.  "So you want me," George began, "to help him out.  That is, use my money, my influence, whatever, but not let him know I'm doing it.  And all the time he'll still hate my guts and think of me as his enemy."

            Shawanda slowly moved toward him while maintaining her gaze into his eyes.  As she came within arm's reach he could smell the sweet aroma of her perfume.  "George," she said, using his first name for the first time since she had come in.  "You say you're a Christian man.  Well I remember having to read the Gospels when I was a little girl.  I think Jesus said something about loving your enemies, and doing good to them that abuse you and despitefully use you."

            She paused, never letting her gaze into his eyes waiver.  "Are you that type of Christian man, George?"  she asked.  "I think you are."  She stated without waiting for an answer.  She quickly kissed him on his right cheek, spun around and briskly left the office.