Chapter 11 – Romance and a Business Proposition
As August began, Corrine agreed to step away from her hairdresser duties and concentrate solely on her business. Part of her decision was prompted by word that Maria Sanchez desperately needed the job, having recently been deserted by her husband, leaving her alone with a three-year-old child. Maria had occasionally worked at Debbie’s Salon when needed, and Corrine had liked her and knew she would be a great addition. Corrine spent time in the last week of July to show Maria several of her styles and to give her hints on the special demands of some of the customers whom she’d inherit from Corrine.

Freed of the need to spend more than an hour every morning to prepare her makeup, do her hair and pretty herself up for the afternoon work at the salon, Corrine dressed quickly in the morning following her shower, tied her long hair in a bun and put on a light gray or beige shift over her panties and bra. She wore the lightest clothing possible, since the room she used for dressmaking at the rear of her mother’s salon often became stifling. The room got little benefit from the ancient air conditioning system in the building. On days when she was expecting customers, she fixed herself up a bit more formally, usually wearing a cotton skirt and sleeveless blouse while applying additional makeup and brushing her hair so that it bobbed a bit in the back.

“I can’t believe you get up so early in the morning,” her mother said, commenting on Corrine’s practice of rising at five o’clock.

“I guess I’m eager to get to work,” she commented. It was the truth. Corrine was captivated with the idea of creating a business of her own, of designing outfits for the most discriminating of women and of modeling her creations herself.

She began her workday at six-thirty, finding time to attend to detail work or to tap on all her creativity to develop a design. She found designing to be a frustrating and sometimes even hopeless task. There were times she felt she could never come up with a design, having tried numerous sketches at her board and in the process covering the floor around her with scraps of paper. Several times, she gave up and walked out of the studio, going several shop fronts north to the coffee shop for a fresh cup of coffee and one of their cranberry-filled muffins.

“Mornin’ Corrine,” said a bright-eyed, bespectacled and studious looking young man. “Your usual?”

“Yeah, Leon. I need the calories to give me inspiration,” she said, laughing.

“Well, you artists are always looking for an excuse for your vices. Some turn to drink. I think the muffin is a better choice,” he laughed.

Finding a small table near the window, she settled down. Spying several acquaintances – a police officer, a lawyer and two young women from the local bank – she acknowledged them with a nod of her head and settled in to reflect. The workers and owners of neighboring businesses knew of her transitioning and, as far as she could determine, had accepted her as Corrine. She had feared there’d be a terrible reaction, but they all knew that Corrine’s very presence, first as a well-regarded hairdresser and now as a budding dressmaker who brought wealthy clients into the business district, had been good for business.

Sometimes, she would join one of her acquaintances for the morning snack but on this morning she wanted to sit and reflect. Corrine’s success in her business bothered her; she found the work to be satisfying and strangely enjoyable. Upon the completion of a design, she usually felt cautiously pleased that it would work; then, when the customer gushed over the result, she became positively overjoyed.

“I hate being so vain,” she scolded herself. “Of what possible social good is bringing joy to a bunch of pampered rich ladies?”

Corrine always claimed to want to go into politics, government service or social work in order to help people out. Now, she found herself being captivated by playing to the vanity of the wealthy. And she was liking it.

Her thoughts drifted to Adam. Oh how she admired him. Yet, he was engaged in a profession that she had thought would be destroying the environment, that of being a logger. She argued with herself about that, but realized Adam might actually be working to protecting the forests by following good logging practices and setting an example for other loggers. Could that example be applied to dressmaking? What would stop her from being a successful dress designer and still working to fulfill her dream for justice and peace in the community and in the world?

Back at the studio, her creative juices awakened by her trip to the coffee shop, she sat down at her board and, almost without thinking, sketched out a gown. She stood up and looked at it and smiled. “That’s it, I got it,” she said aloud, pleased that she had found a design that would work.

*****
“Every time I look at you Corrine, I hate you,” Maureen said later the morning. She had been busy working on the accounts that she had developed for the business.

“Hate me?” Corrine said, astonished by her friend’s remarks. Then she looked at Maureen and saw she was smiling.

“Yes, hate you! Here you are this morning with hardly any makeup on and wearing plain old work clothes and you look absolutely beautiful. How could a girl not be jealous of you?”

“Oh, come on. I’m not all that beautiful. Cheeze.”

“Of course you are, but I love you just the same,” Maureen said.

“You’re a dear, Maureen, and I don’t know how to thank you for helping to get this business organized. I certainly am not as organized as you.”

The two returned to their chores; Corrine was putting the finishing touches on a dress that had been ordered by another of Emily Penney’s friends and Maureen returned to her computer to complete the accounts.

“What do you hear from Tony?” Corrine asked a bit later as the two took a break for coffee.

“Oh, we’ve been talking almost every day and he and Craig are planning to come up for Irish Fest. They were hoping you’d join us so we’d have a foursome,” Maureen said, referring to the two young men from Chicago whom the girls met a few weeks earlier at Festa Italiana.

“I don’t know about that. I hate to be disloyal to Adam.”

“Craig’s not going to bite. He knows you already have a boyfriend. Just come with us. It’ll be fun.”

Maureen explained that the two young men had grown to enjoy coming to Milwaukee’s string of ethnic festivals on Summerfest grounds. She argued that Corrine and Craig had gotten along together quite well and that both enjoyed talking politics. Corrine, however, wasn’t sure she should accompany them. It just didn’t feel right.

“Look, I’ll tell Adam about your request the next time we talk, probably tonight, and if he seems the least bit jealous, I won’t do it,” Corrine said.

“I guess that’s fair,” Maureen nodded.

As the day wore on, Corrine began to worry about how she’d broach the subject with Adam, even though he had earlier said she was free to date anyone else while they were apart. He didn’t sound like the jealous type, but then didn’t he break off a relationship over his then girlfriend’s dalliances? Her stomach churned as she awaited Adam’s call that finally came just after ten o’clock.

Adam apparently sensed her discomfort from the start of the phone call and asked several minutes, “What’s bothering you, Corky?”

She loved it when he called her Corky; it seemed so personal and reflective of the passion he must have felt toward her. She almost said, “nothing,” but instead blurted out the suggestion by Maureen that she “double-date” for Irish Fest with a boy from Chicago named Craig. She raced through her words and finished with a question: “What do you think I should do?”

Adam was silent for a minute before replying, “Do what you want. You don’t need my permission.”

His answer was stated coldly and she felt turned off.

“I won’t do it then,” she said quickly.

“No. Go if you want,” he repeated.

“You don’t like the idea.”

“Corky. Listen to me. We’ve already had this discussion, haven’t we?”

“Yes, Adam, I guess we did,” she said, remembering the talk they’d had when Corrine had accepted the concert date earlier in the summer.

“At that time, I said you should go and enjoy. I meant it then and I still mean it now. I’m sorry. Look we’re 300 miles apart and we should both be free to enjoy ourselves, right?”

“I guess.”

“Look I trust you, Corky.”

“And I trust you, Adam.”

“My darling. I can’t wait to see you.”

“You’re sweet.”

Adam then asked: “Do you think you’ll be able to get here for the Labor Day weekend?” For several days, Adam had been saying during their phone conversations that he’d hoped she could get away for a few days and come to Pine Valley for a visit. While Corrine felt it would probably be good for her to have a few days away from the dress shop, she was wary of spending time with him and Amy and the rest of their family. The others in the family were not aware of her gender status and she was concerned about their reaction should they find out.

“It’s going to be hard to get away, Adam, I have so many orders to fill,” she said, realizing it was an excuse.

“You can take the bus to Spooner and we’ll pick you up, and then you can go back the day after Labor Day with Josh and Amy when they drive back to begin school,” he said.

After a few minutes of Adam’s continued urging, Corrine finally agreed, “OK Adam, I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Good. I can hardly wait!”

*****
Corrine’s calls with Adam became hotly sensual as the days neared before her departure for Pine Valley. She began to wonder whether real sexual intercourse could ever equal the arousal she felt each night as she and Adam grew more explicit in their verbal love-making. Even though hormones had made it nearly impossible to grow hard, her penis did stiffen a bit and eventually begin secreting to dampen her panties; she was getting moist enough to insert a pad into her panties each night as they began their calls. Adam grew breathless as the intensity of their mutual desires heightened and she knew he must have masturbated that night in his bed as he sought to get to sleep, excited by his admiration for her body.

Having never experienced sex – either in her male or female modes – she had no idea whether she’d feel as pleased as she did during the nightly phone calls. She could hardly wait to be a total woman and feel Adam enter her, and kept wondering whether she could hasten her sexual reassignment surgery.

As her bus taking her to Spooner rolled up Highway 53 Corrine looked in awe at the hilly countryside in which acres of dairy farms gave way to dense forests as they continued north. Corrine had tried reading a romance novel by Debbie Macomber, one of her favorite authors, but found it hard to concentrate. It was the last leg of a nearly eight-hour trip (including the changing of buses at Eau Claire) and she was tired and stiff. Yet, her heart was racing at full speed. She had hoped to find time to sleep on the trip, but outside of an occasional snooze, her mind kept thinking about Adam, about being in his arms and also about the reaction of his family to her. She was about five years younger than he was and she was strictly a city girl at heart, certainly not the sturdy type of woman that she felt the folks of a logging area might see as adequate. She was soft, physically not strong and quite fragile. Certainly they would not find her adequate for Adam, she reasoned.

*****
Adam greeted her enthusiastically and she stepped off the bus at Spooner, rushing past several others and scooping her up in his arms. They kissed and hugged as families around them held similar reunions, though none as demonstrative and passionate as theirs. Gathering up her bag, Adam led her to his pickup truck; she could see he had washed it again, obviously in honor of her visit. As Adam drove along the two-lane country highway, she expressed worry as to how his family would take to her.

“They’ll be fine, darling. They all know both Amy and I adore you,” he assured her.

Her concern grew as Adam drove up the long gravel road to the Hoffmann family home. Early evening shadows cast the house in a sheet of gray, but Corrine was impressed how smartly the home – apparently built in the frame, square farmhouse style so typical of the Wisconsin countryside – had been maintained. Its white clapboard siding was highlighted by a teal trim; a mixture of colorful flower beds surrounded the place.

When Adam stopped the pickup, Corrine hesitated a moment, suddenly losing her confidence; she was about to tell Adam to take her back to Spooner so she could get a return bus home. He noted her hesitation and walked around to open the door and assisted her out of the car. Even before she stepped down from the cab of the truck, she noticed an older couple standing on the porch, obviously Adam’s parents. They were smiling.

The Hoffmann family welcomed Corrine with enthusiasm with one exception: Adam and Amy’s oldest brother, Arlo, greeted her with a grunt, followed by a comment, “You’re a pretty fancy girl for these parts.”

“Now, be civil, Arlo. You don’t know the girl, yet, and she looks perfectly nice to me,” their mother, Anna, scolded.

Adam merely scowled at his brother; the two were almost spitting images of each other, both of medium height with rugged, muscular bodies and light brown – almost blond hair that appeared unruly -- giving them mischievous, little boy appearances. Both young men were most appealing, although Arlo was unshaven. Adam, on the other hand, was neat, obviously having showered and shaved before driving to Spooner to pick Corrine up, for he still smelled of after-shave. Corrine couldn’t help smiling to herself over the young man’s apparent effort to impress her.

“We’ll see,” Arlo said, his skepticism clearly not satisfied.

Their father, Arnie, was an older version of the two boys, though his head was largely bald; he had a warm, kind smile. “Now, Adam, show Corrine where her room is and then when you’re ready, Corrine, join us in the living room,” he said.

Corrine was to have the room that had been occupied by a second brother, Alex, who was married and had moved out. The room was bright and cheerful with a large window that looked out upon a huge storage shed and large gravel parking lot that contained several semi-trailers with strange-looking cranes. Bright yard-lights had been turned on to illuminate the parking lot and garages, and the light filtered into the bedroom.

“Sorry about all the light, Corrine, but those are light-darkening drapes that you can draw when you want to sleep,” Adam explained. “As you can see we run our business right from here.”

“Is that Alex with his bride?” Corrine asked, pointing to a framed picture on the wall of a tall, slender young man in a tuxedo and a nearly as tall slender blond woman in a wedding gown.

“Yes, he’s the only one of us who is married and mom and dad are hoping I’ll be next,” he said.

“Oh? And who’s to be the lucky bride?”

Adam blushed.

Corrine became angry and scowled at him, “Is that what this is? An audition?”

“No, no, Corky,” he stuttered. “I just wanted a weekend with you. This is nothing else than that. I can’t help what they think. My brother hates you, since you’re a ‘city girl’ and he thinks I need a husky girl to bear a bunch of kids and keep a clean house.”

“I’m not ready to even think about marriage, Adam. I’m not even legally a woman yet. And maybe I wouldn’t want to marry you, anyway.”

“Marriage was the furthest from my mind, Corky. Really, it was.”

She nodded and suggested he leave while she emptied her suitcase and got freshened up before going down to the living room. As she completed hanging up the few clothes she brought for the weekend and getting herself presentable, she wondered if Adam was denying the truth: that he truly contemplated asking her to be his wife. Certainly, that would be unlikely, she figured; after all, the two had only just met. Or was it such an absurd thought?

*****
“You and Adam were pretty cozy with each other,” Amy said on the return trip to Milwaukee. Josh was driving his parents ten-year-old Ford Escape. Amy sat in the front seat, while Corrine occupied the rear seat.

Corrine, who had been looking out the rain-soaked car window, said nothing. She looked at her friend and smiled.

“I’ve never seen Adam so taken with a girl before,” Amy pressed, having turned her body so that she could look at Corrine behind her.

“I wish this rain would stop,” Corrine said, still not responding to Amy’s observation.

“Come on Corrine. What do you think about Adam? You seemed quite content with him.”

“I like him a lot,” Corrine finally said.

“That was pretty obvious. It’s more than merely ‘liking’ methinks.”

Corrine nodded without commenting further. She wasn’t certain what she felt about Adam; it was true that she liked him, she wanted to be with him and she wanted to be snuggled in his arms and kissed and caressed. But was that love? And, is a creature like herself – part woman, part man – entitled to love a man, particularly a man as appealing and attractive as Adam Hoffmann?

“You have a marvelous family, Amy. I really got to like them, even Arlo who didn’t seem to be pleased with me at first.”

Amy adjusted herself trying to comfort herself in the awkward position she had assumed in trying to talk with Corrine as Josh drove; the young man listened to the conversation but said nothing.

“Arlo’s OK,” Amy said. “I think he’s just a bit jealous of Adam who appears to have a lovely girlfriend. Arlo, being the oldest, is still not married and there appears to be no one around for him. Alex is married already and now, it appears, both Adam and I have serious . . . ah . . . I guess it’s safe to say . . . ah . . . lovers.”

As she spoke, Amy looked at Josh. Still the boy said nothing, but it was obvious Josh was beginning to blush.

Corrine laughed. “Adam and I can hardly be considered lovers.”

“You and Adam spent a lot of time Sunday afternoon in his office, I noticed. I’m sure he wasn’t showing you his accounts,” Amy laughed.

“Damn, Amy, quit jumping to conclusions. Actually, he did show me his accounts, since I had told him about my business and had some questions. Adam really is a good businessman.”

Amy nodded. “Maybe you only looked at his books, but I’m sure there was a bit of kissy-kissy going on, too. I think you two are truly in love, even if you can’t consummate it now.”

“Maybe. Maybe.”

*****
With the new school year starting, Corrine was forced to curtail her time in her studio and she began to refuse to take new customers, a decision she felt was necessary but not good for her business growth. She had arranged her class schedule so that she started as early as possible and could return to her studio by one o’clock most afternoons. Recognizing that she was becoming more interested in her dress business than in her earlier plans to get involved in either politics or social work, she decided to begin taking courses in business administration.

Corrine, at first, considered that she wanted to be a positive influence on the world and that any business career was the antithesis to serving the poor and bringing about justice and peace in the world. Now, she began to believe that she could run a successful business and also serve those goals. It was a serious talk she’d had with Adam that weekend, both in the long hours they shared in the office (yes, there was a bit of kissy-kissy, but otherwise it was business) and in the drive that they took in Adam’s pickup to look at the areas where the loggers practiced good forestry practices.

In the conversations they had in those two meetings, Adam had shown her how she could both run a business and be a leader in the social and justice causes she believed in. He had demonstrated to her how loggers provided a valuable service to the environment when they practiced good forestry and also how a successful businessperson can bring about social change in society. Among other things, he told her how his father and himself had persuaded the local county board to resist censoring some books in the public library system. It had been a convincing argument; she recalled as well the example of Jason and Emily Penney whose leadership and monetary contributions had been instrumental and game-changing in civil rights in the Milwaukee area.

On Monday afternoon, the two headed deep into the forest following a rutted, one lane fire road, until they came to log bridge that spanned a fork of the Chippewa River. He pulled the truck off to the side, parked it and led Corrine to a log. They sat together watching flowing, fresh water sparkle as it ran over rocks and submerged logs.

“This is a beautiful site, Adam,” she said. They snuggled tightly against each other, holding hands.

Fortunately, there appeared to be no mosquitoes in the area since a cold snap had recently hit the area, probably decimating the numbers of the bothersome insects. An occasional black fly had to be slapped or brushed away.

“For a fancy city girl, you’re looking right at home out here,” Adam teased.

“Maybe I’m not as fancy a girl as you thought,” she giggled.

“I know that, dear, but you’re such a dainty girl I at first found it hard to think you could fit in up here.”

Corrine looked up at Adam. “Are you wondering whether I could live up here permanently?”

He reddened. It was obvious his questioning of her might have gone too far. It was true that he really was wondering that if they were to marry whether she’d be happy in Pine Valley as the wife of a logger. He knew it was not a question he should be dealing with now, given all the odds against them being married.

Corrine thought she’d change the subject and asked, “What did you and Lionel talk about down in Milwaukee, Adam?”

She referred to the discussion Adam had with Helen Comstock’s boyfriend, Lionel, on the evening as they watched fireworks during Adam’s Fourth of July visit.

“Oh then? Lionel’s really a sharp guy, Corky. He really is. I told him about my furniture company idea and mentioned my concern about marketing the product, and he came up with a really good possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I could set up one part of the production up here in Pine Valley, and we could cut and fashion the timber into parts. Then we could ship them to a city, like Milwaukee, Chicago or the Twin Cities, where he’d set up a minority company, using inner city residents to assemble the furniture and have a display room right there.”

“Do you think that’s feasible?”

“Not sure, but his thought is that there are some tax benefits and subsidies available for setting up companies in low-income areas where we could recruit workers, and then the finished product would be available to sell right there. Sounds kind of cool, don’t you think?”

Corrine pondered the idea and then smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“That’d mean you’d have to spend more time in Milwaukee, wouldn’t it?”

He laughed. “That’s if we were to set it up in Milwaukee and not, say, St. Paul or Chicago.”

“You better do it in Milwaukee,” she said, giving him a playful punch in the arm.

“We’ll see,” he teased.

The two hugged tightly.

*****
It was confusing. She wasn’t yet a woman in the fullest sense and he was a Northwoods logger; she was a fragile girl who relished lace and silk and high fashions and he drove a utilitarian pickup truck and favored work shoes and plaid shirts. How could they fit together for a long relationship? Absurd as it was, she reflected on life in Pine Valley on the long ride home. It might work, she mused, often smiling as the possibilities flashed through her mind. His family was great as were his friends; they were sincere and direct with not a bit of phoniness she sometimes detected among some her big city acquaintances. Yet, how would they react when they learned that she once had been a boy? It was scary.

The new school year began with a flourish of activity as she began changing her focus; no longer would she pursue a degree in either political science or social work and now would concentrate of business administration while also gaining a minor in history. It was Adam who helped her think through her decision.

“Darling, I know it’s important that you learn more skills that can help you in business, but I know you. You need to feel that what you’re doing is important and will help people,” he said during one of their long talks in the woods.

“I know, Adam, but I have to be able to make a living, too.”

“That’s why you should keep taking some liberal arts courses, just to keep you aware of the world as a whole,” he said.

Corrine accepted his suggestion, all the time wondering how this rural logger could have such a reflective and wise mind. It was what made her love him even more.

Her school schedule promised to be a demanding one at the same time her dress business was taking even more of her time. “Dresses by Corrine” was beginning to be a much-in-demand label in the outfits being worn by the upscale women of Milwaukee. Her friend Maureen saw the increase in work and queried Corrine as to how she could continue to both attend school fulltime and tend to her budding business.

In early October, Corrine got a call on her cell phone from Jason Penney, again asking her to lunch. He stressed to her that the lunch would be “strictly business” and would include another business executive who had an idea he’d like to share.

“My car will pick you up next Thursday at noon, if you’re free,” he suggested.

“That’s OK with my schedule,” Corrine agreed. “How shall I dress?”

“Nothing fancy. Business casual is fine. We’ll be dining at the University Club,” he said, referring to one of the more exclusive private clubs in the city.

*****
Corrine was much less apprehensive about her luncheon with Jason Penney than she had been for the first one. It appeared he was truly interested in engaging her in some sort of business proposition. She been encouraged by Jason’s daughter, Maureen, to accept the invitation; Maureen had helped Corrine organize the finances of her growing business and to take the steps needed to create it as a legitimate business.

“I’ve told dad what a promising business you have here, Corrine. He’s truly interested in it as a business investment,” Maureen told her.

“I guess it won’t hurt to listen to him,” she said, still not totally convinced of the wisdom of meeting Jason again.

“Even though you never told me what happened at that first luncheon, I know my Dad, Corrine, and I know he probably tried to hit on you, but I think you set him straight, and he won’t try that again,” Maureen admitted.

Corrine blushed. “Yes, he made advances and I wasn’t sure why. He knows I’m not a complete girl. Maybe he was just curious and maybe he’s bisexual.”

“He’s probably all of those,” Maureen said. “He’s always been an adventurer, I guess, and you probably represent a new frontier for him.”

“Does your mother know?”

“I don’t know for sure, but she must. Besides they still love each other but I think they give each other a lot of freedom.”

Corrine shook her head. “That’s not for me,” she said. “I think I’m a one-man woman, or, at least I hope to be.”

Maureen smiled. “If that man is to be Adam, you’ll be a truly lucky woman, Corrine.”

“I know. Isn’t he a sweet man?”

The two girls kissed briefly, enjoying each other’s company.

*****
On Thursday morning, Corrine decided after some indecision to wear a cowl neck sweater dress she had purchased off the racks at Macy’s. It was solid navy blue and reached to the knees, not too dressy for her two morning classes, yet fashionable enough for a business luncheon. She wore coffee-colored stockings and flats. She carried a pair of pumps with three-inch heels that she’d switch into for the luncheon.

“Corrine, you look like a successful young business woman,” her mother gushed at breakfast.

“Thanks, mom, I hope I do.”

“You do, honey, and I think it is so wonderful that I can see only a young woman when I look at you these days. You could even put on your old boy things and you’d still be all girl.”

“Thanks, mom, just so everyone else does, too,” she said, wondering if her mother was merely trying to make her feel good.

“You always were a girl, dear, and your true nature is only now showing,” Debbie Sullivan said.

“Oh mom, I love you.”

“And I love my sweet daughter.”

Riding the Green Line bus that morning to the university, Corrine pondered her new life and marveled at how natural she felt. Never had she had more confidence in herself as she headed for her school classes and then the business luncheon as a young woman.

*****
Jason Penney was at a table along a large window that looked out upon a snow-covered Juneau Park with the ice-covered shoreline of Lake Michigan in the background. The scene was muted by the gray day and a light fog that hovered along the shoreline. Nonetheless, it was a dazzling, breathtaking sight. A youngish African-American man with neatly cropped hair was seated with Mr. Penney and both wore dark blue business suits, white shirts and ties. They were a picture of successful businessmen.

Corrine suddenly got a sense of being out-of-place in the Victorian environment, her casual outfit a blight upon the scene. Jason had stressed being “casual,” she recalled.

“So pleased you could make it, Miss Sullivan,” Jason said, rising out of his seat. His companion did the same and Corrine noticed that he towered over the older man.

Corrine nodded her welcome, holding out her hand to be grasped by Jason. “Let me introduce Lawrence Wilkens,” he said.

When the three were seated, Corrine addressed Penney, “You did say to dress casual, Mr. Penney, didn’t you? I feel I should have dressed a bit more formally. This is such a lovely room.”

“You look just great, Corrine, and you sparkle much more than any of the other ladies in the room, I assure you. Doesn’t she, Larry?” Jason said, smiling.

Larry looked at Corrine and offered a warm, welcoming smile. He had bright, dark eyes set into a handsome face. “She’d be lovely in anything, Mr. Penney, just as you said,” the young man said.

Corrine was immediately taken by the young man, by his open, broad face and somewhat shy demeanor.

They all selected a light meal off the menu, along with iced tea in lieu of anything alcoholic. They all turned down desserts. “All us girls must watch our waistlines, mustn’t we?” Jason quipped.

The conversation during the meal amounted to small talk, though Corrine learned that Larry Wilkens came from a broken family in Milwaukee’s inner city but broke out of his dysfunctional upbringing thanks to a scholarship, internships and loans to end up with an MBA from Northwestern University.

“Larry’s involved in providing investment dollars for startups, Corrine, and he was most interested in meeting you to discuss your budding dress business,” Jason explained.

Corrine expected that Jason Penney had something like this in mind when she accepted the invitation; right now she was not inclined to consider such a proposal. Yet, as Larry explained his funding operation and mentioned how excited he was at Corrine’s great success, the prospect of actually following through on such an idea grew tempting.

*****
Three days later, Corrine found herself in Lawrence Wilkins’ storefront office on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive, having been convinced by her mother that she ought to at least investigate the feasibility of entering into such a major undertaking. Dutifully, Corrine did an extensive online search on both Wilkins and Jason Penney and she was impressed with what she learned. While Corrine had gotten to know the Penney family quite well, she hadn’t really known how he came to be so wealthy, whether he was some sort of a big shot hustler or had come by his considerable good fortune more directly. Jason Penney had a solid pedigree and built a respected place in Milwaukee’s investment community; he was a leading Democrat and a heavy contributor to many civil rights and social justice agencies. Wilkins had been tagged as one of the bright young entrepreneurs in the city’s African-American community and had already been responsible for several of the new businesses sprouting up in the rejuvenated neighborhood.

“Once Devastated Area May Have Found Its Savior,” was the headline in the city’s main business weekly on a story profiling Wilkins.

Wilkins’ office was unexpectedly modest, taking up the back half of a storefront location. The furniture was a mismatched collection obviously picked up at second-hand stores; a few portable tables contained sketches and blueprints and a new iMac computer was on a small table, next to a desk covered with papers.

“Sorry about the mess, Miss Sullivan,” Wilkins said in escorting her into the room and beckoning she sit at chair next to his desk.

“No problem, it looks like you’ve got a busy place here,” she smiled.

“We’re in the midst of completing a proposal which explains part of the mess.”

Wilkins was dressed impeccably, wearing a navy blue suit that fit his trim, athletic body. His smile was warm and affecting and Corrine felt herself drawn to the man, an emotion that scared her and made her feel almost cheap. It wasn’t that she didn’t desire getting to know Larry Wilkins better; the fact was that she paid far more attention to her appearance for this business meeting with Wilkins than she had for the luncheon date at the University Club. She wore a dark violet pencil skirt and a matching jacket over a pink blouse with a lace bodice; she wore coffee-colored stockings and sensible navy blue pumps with a three-inch heel. She wore her hair straight with a bob and cute bangs that spread across her forehead.

“I’m embarrassed to bring such a lovely woman into this disorder, Miss Sullivan,” Wilkins said.

Corrine blushed, careful to smooth her skirt as she sat in a comfortable side chair in the office, crossing her legs so that her skirt rose to show a hint of inner thigh. She smiled as the man quickly diverted his eyes to avoid seeing the loveliness of her legs, realizing that she raised the sexual desires of most men.

“Well, let’s get down to business, Miss Sullivan, or may I call you Corrine?”

“Please do,” she said.

“Good, and I’m Larry, OK?”

Corrine nodded, hoping to turn their meeting from its sexual overtones and onto the business Larry Wilkins had suggested they discuss: the creating of a business with financial support from Wilkins and his associates.

“First of all, Larry,” Corrine began, “I’m aware that Jason told you of my special status, my gender situation, and I’m wondering why you’re still interested in investing in someone like me.”

“Corrine, you’re a woman to me, and to everyone who sees you, so I wouldn’t worry about that. And I expect we’ll only know you as a woman.”

“It’s not exactly been a secret that I’m in transition, even though only a few truly know my background. I’m not interested in blabbing it around, nor am I interested in my ‘difference’ being exploited, if that’s what you had in mind.”

“Whoa, hold on there. I’m not interested in exploiting anyone here,” he said, showing a momentary touch of anger.

“Just so we understand each other, Larry.”

“I’m sure we do,” he said. Corrine nodded at his affirmation. In truth, based on what she had learned in her research, she was convinced he was not planning to use her trans status as a gimmick to market the business.

“Now, here’s what we’re thinking,” Wilkins said.

As he outlined the idea, Corrine began to question her original inclination to turn down the proposal; it deserved closer examination. The plan seemed to fulfill all of Corrine’s natural instincts to spend her life doing positive, worthwhile work, rather than to merely feed on whims and fancies of wealthy women.

Wilkins said Creations by Corrine could be developed into a unique business as the area’s only custom dress-designing business catering to a high-end clientele while at the same time serving the needs of the low-income, largely African-American neighborhood that he and others were seeking to improve.

He headed an investment group, called Harambee Associates, that was dedicated to bringing business into the area; there was a four-story building, built a century earlier as a shoe factory and until recently used as a health clinic that stood in need of occupants. His idea was to locate Corrine’s business in one floor of the building, with hopes of expanding it as the business grew to eventually occupy more of the building.

The plan called for hiring a half dozen seamstresses and other support personnel to expand the ability of Corrine to serve more customers.

“I could see you attracting clients from among the black elite of the area, some of those who live in the suburbs and still want to support the old neighborhood,” he said. “And, I know lots of white folks from the North Shore who like to do a bit of ‘slumming’ and come in with their fancy cars. There’s a nice parking lot adjacent to the building that we could make secure for customers. It’d be an up-scale place right here in the ‘hood.’”

“That sounds good, Larry, but how could we be sure to get enough customers to keep all those seamstresses busy?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, once word gets out about your talents and you get clothes modeled on the red carpet in New York and Hollywood, you’ll be big business,” he said.

“That’s too much of a dream,” she objected.

“It’s not. You’ve got the talent and we can market it, I’m sure. I’ve prepared a summary of the plan, complete with some drawings of the prospective remodeling we’d need to do,” he said.

“And what about our workers? Do you think we can find experienced seamstresses and others to fill the jobs?” she asked, adding, “I don’t want to try to train them for the work.”

“Listen, my dear,” Wilkins said. “In this neighborhood, you’ll find plenty of women who know their way around a sewing machine.”

He handed her a pink folder, containing a four-page summary of the plan, some photographs of the building and some artist’s sketches of possible changes. She took a few minutes to scan the summary; she stopped at one point and looked up at Wilkins.

“You’re looking for some federal funding for this?” she asked, referring to the reference to a federal grant program that funds new businesses in depressed neighborhoods.

“Yes, I think we’re a good candidate for it. We truly want to serve the neighborhood,” he said.

"You honestly believe this could work?" She asked.

He smiled. "Anything is a gamble, dear, but I think it's something that is needed and if we put all our efforts into it, it'll be successful, I'm sure."

As she left his office, he moved over as if to hug her, but instead he held out his and, offering a business-like handshake. "I look forward to working with you, Miss Sullivan," he said.

"And I'll give you an answer before the end of the week, Mr. Wilkins, if that's OK."

He grasped her hand a bit more firmly, stating, "We need you Miss Sullivan."

As she waited at the bus stop, the only white person on the street, she pondered the offer. She looked at a boarded-up business across the street, a huddle of young men standing idly at a nearby corner and several older women struggling up the sidewalk trailing their grocery carts behind them. She saw poverty everywhere. Corrine made her decision before the bus arrived to take her on to the University.