Victor Morton Jr., CEO of Morton Technologies, looked at his mother Mrs. Vallie Morton.
“Vanessa was our sister,” he said, gesturing at his brothers and sisters, “but she was your daughter, Mama. You have the floor.”
Mrs. Morton breathed a deep sigh, and closed her eyes in prayer before speaking.
“Mrs. Slocum-Lofton, thank you for coming. I've asked the Lord to help me tell you only what will be helpful to you on your new journey with Him.
“The first thing you need to know is that humility is the key thing, and we see you practicing it. Let me help you a little more: you were never that important, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton. Don't think we were waiting 29 years to hear from you on anything. We already know how your type of people are, all the way back to 1619. We expected you to act a plain fool, and you did not disappoint us.
“My family and I left you and yours in 1991, and never looked back. It was Henry you hurt, because he had forgotten he was white and had to learn who his people were off the mountain. He didn't know. You almost took him from us too, but if you've got it square with him, good. God bless you. But we wouldn't have even taken your filthy money if it had come from you.
“We didn't need your blood money. Vanessa and Victor's work has spoken for itself for ten times what you are worth now. But because Henry gave us his money,, we accepted it – and returned it to him when we no longer needed it. We are rid of all trace of you now, and would never have left ourselves in any position in which you can say you're responsible for what we have. Never. To God be the glory!
“We let you come here because you needed to do that, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton, and because we are bound by the Word of God to help our brothers and sisters in Christ of all colors mature in their faith. Humility is important. You're here so we can bless you, because you need to repent. We never wronged you. But we never considered ourselves your victims. Never. You never have and you never will have that kind of power over the Morton family, and it's just good to know you don't want to anymore.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Mrs. Slocum-Lofton answered, and felt another drop of sweat rolling down her leg. Never in her life had she been the subject of a “Black woman READ,” and indeed it was all that she had heard and feared. Vallie Morton hadn't expressed any of those loving, comforting emotions of “forgiveness” so often expected from Black victims of racism – oh, no. Mrs. Morton wasn't going there.
Furthermore, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton had picked up Mrs. Morton's mentioning of their comparative net worth, and had correlated that with the folders her CEO son had in front of him on the table. The heat was about to be turned up.
“My son, Mr. Victor Morton Jr., does have some tangible works of repentance you can do toward the community we come from to show the change in your life.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“You have the floor back, son.”
Mr. Morton opened up the folder in front of him.
“We – and I mean Morton Technologies and a consortium we have built – would like to buy Lofton National Bank from you.”
Ah ha. Mrs. Slocum-Lofton's mind ran down all the rabbit holes. She knew that there was talk of a Black bank coming to Lofton County, but she also knew the red tape from the state to the federal level was going to be ridiculous. No one in Mrs. Slocum-Lofton's circle wanted the competition, so much so that they had sort of acquiesced and let her buy up anything and everything she wanted to consolidate local banking – with the 39 percent of the Black population of Lofton County riled up, and the three percent of the Latino population equally riled up over the Ridgeline Fire, white-owned banks in the county stood to lose 42 percent of their deposits if a Black alternative popped up.
However, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton had merged the three banks that held most of the Black and Latino deposits to stabilize them: Lofton National Bank was in excellent condition and had been able to take the strain, so she had expanded it over the other two. She thus already held most of the deposits in question – so, the Morton consortium, if they bought that up, would not have to go through the trouble of getting their bank up and running from scratch, and the other banks would not be hurt quite as badly … at least, not initially. There would be trouble later of the racist kind when Black and Latino people began to get loans and grants like everyone else from Lofton National Bank.
But that had nothing to do with what Mrs. Slocum-Lofton needed to do, and, Mr. Morton slid her a folder that showed a fair price.
“Let it be known back home,” Mr. Morton said, “that although your circle fears that we would do what you would do if you had us at your mercy again, that was always all y'all's problem. We are a community-minded people originally of Africa's civilizations, civilizations of abundance without the need of perpetual war over presumably scarce resources. We were in your culture but never of it, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton, which is why we can make a fully above-board, win-win offer.”
“I see that,” Mrs. Slocum-Lofton said as she looked through the prospectus.
“I take it you also follow the news of the world, and so you know that on these kinds of transactions, sooner would be better than later.”
“Yes, sir, I am aware of the potentials of 2020 being difficult, financially speaking.”
“We would like to close on the deal by December 31, 2019.”
Mrs. Slocum-Lofton considered that … it was the 27th … tight, but possible.
“Do you have a contact in Lofton County I can meet with to facilitate the beginning of the sale process tomorrow? It would be helpful if you did so we can work together to prepare the sale documents in accord with both our wishes.”
“As a matter of fact, we do, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton. It's on page 25, at the top of the page.”
“I will reach out to him today and set an appointment with him tomorrow.”
“I'll let him know you will be calling.”
Mrs. Slocum-Lofton closed the folder, and then took another deep breath, and reached out her hand to Mr. Morton. She knew both her parents would have fainted at the idea that she would even be touched by a Black man's hand, much less as an equal business partner with more money than she had … but she also knew that God had chosen her for a different eternal fate, one out of every tribe and nation equal in the love of their Father, God, Who had made of one blood all the families – not the races, but the families – of the earth. It was time to consistently act like it.
Victor Morton Jr. stood up without hesitation, and shook Mrs. Selene Slocum-Lofton's hand – a handshake deal between two former enemies, now reconciled in Christ. After that, the meeting was over. All that had needed to be said and done had been done – now, bigger gears were going to start moving, from New York to Washington to Ontario and back to Lofton County, VA.
Victor Morton Jr. drove his mother back to her home before going back to his office to get those gears moving.
“Well, how about that?” he said. “Vanessa's death becomes the means by which the generation of Vanessa's children and grandchildren will never have to struggle as hard to get their ideas funded as we had to back in the day – beginning in 2020 instead of 2022.”
“God is good,” Mrs. Morton said. “Never saw it coming like this, but, I say Amen to it, and even Amen to Mrs. Slocum-Lofton getting right with God on a personal level. She's aged really well for such a wicked person, but she was late enough.”
“The Ridgeline Fire must have struck her as a preview of coming attractions,” Mr. Morton said.
“Ain't the truth -- God does know how to get the message to us, son. She got the message in time. Good for her, good for us, and good for all the people we love in Lofton County. If I read the news as you do, our folks are going to need all the help they can get.”
Mrs. Slocum-Lofton had walked downstairs, and out the door, poised and elegant as ever, gotten to the car, gotten in, and collapsed into Mr. Worley's arms, sobbing.
Mr. Worley noticed that his beloved was slightly damp – the strain must have been intense for her to have perspired that much – but she was not complaining, so nothing had offended her. So, over to his penthouse in Manhattan for her to take a shower –“I'm coming in there with you next month, Selene!” he had said to get her laughing – while he had her clothes cleaned and added some outfits with it.
“Oh, John,” she said, “but thank you. You are getting to know me, because these are lovely.”
“I figure, you're going to have a busy several days, and I heard from my first wife that fresh clothes keep a woman's morale up,” he said.
“They do, John, they do, especially when they come from the man you love.”
“You're finally figuring that out too – I always knew you were smart!”
An hour later, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton was snoozing again in Mr. Worley's arms, on their way back to the airport. She had made her call to the contact in Lofton County while at the penthouse, and she had her appointment for 11:00 the next morning … so she could rest easily.
Image by Barbara Bonanno from Pixabay