Unlike the feeling she got in modern banks with their faux columns, glass windowed cubicles, and modular gray steel furniture, the almost one-hundred-year-old décor of this branch always lulled her with its sense of security. In her mind, the wood-paneled offices, polished furniture, and comfortable leather chairs, strategically placed throughout the lobby—so each had a view of the open vault door and the guarded safe deposit boxes—was what a bank should be. The only thing marring the historical feel of the building was its modern security cameras.
Lance’s secretary, Eloise, intercepted Maybelle and Sarah before they reached his door. She guided them to two small chairs situated to the left of his office. “I’m sorry. He’s running a few minutes behind. May I get you a cup of coffee or a soda? The matter he’s dealing with just came up, but he should be finished momentarily.”
When they declined, Eloise returned to her desk at the right of Lance’s office. Its placement always made Sarah think about how secretarial desks were positioned at the beck and call of the boss in 1950s sitcoms. Sixty plus years later, except for Eloise and her ever-present intercom, bosses and secretaries communicated by email, rarely seeing each other.
Sarah’s pondering of the furniture and Eloise’s role in the bank was interrupted by an angry string of profanity, accompanying the words coming from inside Lance’s office. “Lance, you had no right to call my loan. I swear I should kill you.”
As she focused on the closed wooden door, trying to make out more of the shouted words, it crashed open with such force the doorknob banged into the wall.
A scowling man, whose plaid shirt contrasted with his tanned face and tousled blond hair made Sarah think “Paul Bunyan meets Surf City,” stomped by her. He stopped almost even with where Sarah sat openmouthed. His presence squeezed the air from her space, making her feel she might as well have been invisible.
Lance’s voice brought her attention back to where he stood in his doorway, “Cliff, I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” Without glancing at Lance or her staring at him, he crossed the lobby and exited the bank.
Although the tension outside Lance’s door immediately dissipated, Sarah looked toward Lance to gauge his reaction. As she glanced in his direction, he stepped closer to Eloise’s desk to let a second man leave his office.
She wrinkled her brow in confusion. It was Jacob Hightower, a Southwind line cook. “Jacob?”
He acknowledged Sarah and Maybelle with a quick smile and wave but hurried past to catch up to the blue-jeaned windswept hunk. Sarah couldn’t help wondering what about a loan being called generated such angry words or the need to barge in on Lance without an appointment.
Knowing Jacob, she bet it involved a development deal. Even though he was the son of the wealthiest Wheaton family and recently had been burnt in more ways than one, he remained one of the biggest promoters for establishing a new entertainment district. Unfortunately, his chief opposition was the rest of his family.
Sarah’s thoughts were interrupted by Lance. “Maybelle, Sarah, how good to see you. Sorry you had to wait. Please, come in.”
With one hand gesturing in welcome, he pulled a big white handkerchief out of his pocket with the other and dabbed his forehead.
Sarah let her mother step into his office ahead of her. As she followed, Sarah glanced back and realized Lance had stopped to talk with Eloise.
Maybelle pointed to a small door at the rear of the office. “See that door? When your daddy was alive, that’s the only way we came in or went out of this bank. Your daddy didn’t believe in going through the main lobby. He liked using the alley entrance to keep our banking business private.”
Maybelle stopped talking as Lance came in and settled himself into his high-backed leather chair. “My apologies again. I try to keep my job as president of this bank separate from my responsibilities as president of the city council, but on days like today, when our council meeting is only a couple of hours away, that’s hard to do. Someone always seems to want something at the last minute.”
He pointed to a stack of papers on his desk. “These papers are the ones going to the meeting, and they’re only half of what I read each week to keep up with city issues. By the way, Sarah, I was pleased when the council voted last week in favor of permitting your animal parade idea as a means of earning money for the shelter. It was nice to see everyone in agreement on something when they expanded your idea into being an entire YipYeow Day. Let me know what the bank can sponsor for five thousand dollars.”
Sarah was thrilled to hear her pet project not only had the city’s formal blessing with its promise to provide traffic control and protection and let the shelter use the park pavilion for free but now had a sponsorship commitment from the bank. In Wheaton, having the bank and power company as supporters guaranteed a project’s success. “That’s so generous of the bank and you. Don’t forget, the organizational meeting is Thursday at six at my house. I hope you’ll come.”
“Thank you, but I have another commitment Thursday evening. Just remember, when your committee is doing its planning, you can count on this bank for five thousand dollars.” He paused and smiled. “It’s nice to sponsor a project the entire council is behind.”
Sarah agreed. Her excitement at his offer was only dampened by his not saying the council was also in favor of Emily and Marcus using the big house for a restaurant.
“Now, what can I do for you two lovely ladies?”
That, Sarah realized, was all the opening her mother needed to spring into fighter mode.
CHAPTER THREE
Sarah sat back to watch the Maybelle show.
“Lance Knowlton, you can tell me when you lost your mind. How could you refuse to give my daughter, Emily, and her friend Marcus a bridge loan when you had full collateral for it? Considering the extensive history my husband and I had with you, and that most of our deals were done based on a handshake, I don’t understand this.”
“Well, Maybelle, I’m not quite sure which loan you’re referring to, but you know banking regulations have tightened in the last few years. Things we used to do on a handshake can’t be done anymore. Compliance is the name of the game.”
“Hogwash.”
“Maybelle, I’m sure Bailey, my loan officer, had a good reason for turning down the loan application. Restaurants are tricky businesses.”
“But guaranteed loans aren’t.”
“Excuse me?”
Maybelle waved her hand at the stack of papers on his desk he’d previously shown Sarah and her. “Have you gotten so carried away with your city council position that you’re ignoring your bank duties? The guaranteed terms offered on this loan were the kind you should have signed off on in your sleep.”
Sarah was glad she’d taken the guest chair farthest away from Lance’s desk. While he stammered about bank regulations and how Bailey reviewed every loan carefully, she could tell from her mother’s rising voice level and increasingly flushed cheeks that her anger and attack on Lance hadn’t yet peaked.
When Maybelle rose and leaned over his desk, Sarah knew it was only a matter of seconds before her mother made mincemeat of Lance. “Since when does your bank turn down a loan when one of your longtime customers offers to either cosign or put up one hundred percent collateral from personal assets for it?”
“Maybelle, there could have been any number of reasons Bailey turned down the loan. He may have found the collateral insufficient or felt items in the loan request weren’t financially sound. You’d be surprised how many times these young borrowers want money for thousand-dollar light fixtures when hundred-and-fifty-dollar fixtures over the bar will suffice.”
Maybelle straightened and placed her hand on her chest, under her neck. “Bless your heart, I do understand the problems your Mr. Bailey must encounter all the time. Horrible. Simply horrible when your loan officer has to weigh helping folks and our community against profitability.”
“That’s part of the stricter compliance
laws.”
“Except none of those considerations applied here. My daughter wouldn’t overspend for anything anymore than I would be so lax as to not know to the penny what money I have in your bank.”
Sarah remained silent. After her daddy died six years ago, Maybelle was petrified of outliving her money. Only when Emily and Sarah sat her down and showed her in black and white that she’d need to live to about one hundred and fifty-two to run out of funds did she relax. Since that day, Maybelle accepted with gusto the twins’ encouragement to be a bit of a madcap, spending on things she wanted.
Spa trips and searching for positive energy might be an essential part of her mother’s free-spending existence, but keeping track of every cent was equally important to her. If Maybelle said there was more than enough money to guarantee the loan Emily and Marcus applied for, Sarah knew there was.
“Let me get Bailey in here to clear this up. I can assure you having happy customers is this bank’s primary goal. If a mistake was made, I’ll personally make sure it’s rectified.” He picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “Eloise, have Bailey come in here and tell him to bring the Southwind file, please.”
While he made the call, Sarah watched Maybelle rest her large purse on Mr. Knowlton’s desk and rummage through it. Maybelle placed the spiked fence topper, a pair of reading glasses, and an old-fashioned savings account passbook on the desk. She kept her smartphone in her hand. Once Lance looked in Maybelle’s direction, she typed something into it and stared at the phone’s screen.
From Sarah’s vantage point, she wondered if it might be more effective to turn the phone on, but that apparently wasn’t important to either her mother or Mr. Knowlton. She stifled a giggle.
Her mother shot her a stern look before turning her attention back to Lance. “I noticed Jacob Hightower and someone who didn’t seem very happy about a loan call coming out of your office while we were waiting. Tell me, Lance, how much of this bank do Anne and Ralph Hightower own?”
Sarah was surprised to hear her mother mention Jacob’s sister and father. Not only were they two of the most influential people in the city but also the most outspoken in their opposition to creating an entertainment district. If they owned the bank, it was no wonder Emily and Marcus’s loan application was rejected.
“Now, Maybelle. You know they’re investors, not officers. They aren’t involved with day-to-day operations and certainly had nothing to do with the Southwind loan. My loan officer conscientiously handles all those applications, but I’ll look this one over again myself. I’m sure there was a valid reason for the denial, but if . . .”
A knock at the door and its immediate opening interrupted his string of platitudes. A middle-aged man stood in the doorway clutching a thin folder. His dark hair, dark suit, and dark-rimmed glasses blended together in sharp contrast to his pasty white skin. Sarah wondered if he ever went outside before the sun went down.
“You wanted the Southwind file, sir?”
Lance took the file from him. “Thank you, Bailey.”
Gesturing toward Maybelle and Sarah, Lance did introductions. “They’re inquiring about why the Southwind loan was rejected.”
Bailey raised his hands, palm up, directing his answer to Maybelle. “I’m sorry. I don’t know off the top of my head. Ms. Eloise said Mr. Knowlton wanted the file immediately, so I didn’t review it before bringing it in. And, well, we process so many loan applications that I don’t really recall the details related to Southwind, but, Mr. Knowlton, as you know, my reasons are always fully documented on the second page of the file.”
He held his left hand out toward Lance for the file. “Mr. Knowlton, would you like me to go through this for you? It will only take a few minutes.”
Lance glanced at his watch. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll personally look the file over. The council meeting isn’t for an hour and a half. While I review this file, save me some time by taking this stack of papers over to city hall and getting things ready for the session.”
“Yes, sir.” Bailey combined bobbing his head and upper body in Sarah and Maybelle’s direction with scooping the papers from the corner of Lance’s desk. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Johnson, Ms. Blair. Mr. Knowlton, I’m sure you’ll find everything in order, but if there is anything else I can do, please let me know. If you need me to run back and explain anything, you or Eloise can reach me on my cell.”
As Bailey juggled the papers and reached for the doorknob, Sarah leapt from her seat and opened the door for him.
“Thank you, Ms. Blair.”
“No problem.” Closing the door, she glanced back at her mother and Lance.
Lance opened the file. He shut it and dropped it on his desk near the finial without examining any of the documents. “Tell you what, Maybelle, I want to give this file the attention it deserves. We receive so many applications, Bailey may well have erred on the side of conservatism. I promise I’ll review this before day’s end.”
Maybelle put her cell phone back in her purse and tapped her finger on her passbook, which still lay on his desk, then used the same finger to point to his watch. “Lance, I think there’s more than enough time before the council meeting to approve a loan or for a customer to decide to move an account to a more independent bank.”
She slowly returned her reading glasses to her purse before picking up her bankbook. She turned it over in her hands, examining its back and front covers while holding it up in midair, so Lance and Sarah could clearly see it. “After all these years, I’d hate explaining to the sewing club why I moved my account to the bank down the street. What would your wife say?”
Whether it was the threat of Maybelle moving her account or telling his wife, Lance again used his handkerchief on his glistening forehead while she dropped the passbook into her purse. “Maybelle, there’s no need to make a hasty decision. Based upon what you’ve told me, I’m sure this loan matter can easily be resolved.”
“I think so, too, but considering the motion for rezoning for their restaurant should be considered today, it would be lovely if you could give Emily and Marcus an answer before the council meeting.”
Lance wiped the sweat beaded on his brow. “You know, Maybelle, the agenda is pretty full today and that’s a hot topic.”
“I understand, but wouldn’t it be to everyone’s benefit if people knew there are no financial barriers for rebuilding Southwind or establishing a second dining location if the zoning change is approved?”
“Definitely.” Lance smiled in Sarah’s direction. “Tell you what, why don’t you two ladies go get a cup of coffee while I review the loan application before the meeting?”
Maybelle returned his smile. “Why, thank you, Lance. I have had a hankering all morning for a Buffalo Betty’s chicken biscuit, but I didn’t want us to leave here with this matter unresolved.”
He leaned across his desk and patted Maybelle’s hand. “Nothing better than a Buffalo Betty’s chicken biscuit. Go enjoy one for me while I work on this loan. Don’t you fret about anything. By the way, Sarah, how’s that cat of yours? He playing the stock market yet?”
Sarah gave him a Cheshire cat grin. “He’s more into fur balls, but he’s just fine, Mr. Knowlton. Just fine.”
Before either of them could say anything more about RahRah, the door from the lobby burst open.
The hunk who’d left with Jacob rushed into the office, trailed by Eloise and a football player–sized security guard. “Excuse me, but this can’t wait!”
As Eloise grabbed for the hunk’s shirttail and missed, Sarah pulled her mother out of the moving train’s path. She couldn’t keep the hunk’s flying hands from knocking the various items from the desk onto the floor. The contents of Maybelle’s open purse spilled at the hunk’s feet.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Knowlton. I tried to stop him,” Eloise said.
Lance waved her and the security guard, whose presence filled the room, away. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of this.” He repeated himself until
Eloise and the guard, still not looking fully convinced, left. With their departure, the room felt less claustrophobic. She released her grip on her mother but didn’t step forward to help as the hunk haphazardly picked up the various items strewn on the floor and threw them back into the pocketbook or on the desk.
From behind his desk, Lance held his hand out for the purse when the young man finished scooping up its fallen contents. “I’ll take that, Cliff. Why don’t you go back outside and make an appointment with my secretary?”
The hunk growled something, but when Lance held his ground, he hung the pocketbook over Lance’s outstretched hand. Grunting an apology to Sarah and Maybelle and another warning to Lance that this wasn’t the end of it, he backed out of the office, but not before Sarah felt chilled by the gaze she observed him exchange with Lance. Interestingly, the bank president didn’t seem nearly as upset as when Maybelle threatened to move her account.
Lance came around his desk and gently took Maybelle’s arm, while handing her the purse. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Cliff gets a little hot at times, but he’s a good guy.” Lance glanced at his watch. “You two better hurry if you’re going to get one of Betty’s biscuits before the meeting.”
Guiding Maybelle, Lance ushered her out of his office but stopped abruptly when she froze in place. Sarah stumbled behind him. As she tripped, she barely managed to squeeze around them. Regaining her balance, she peered at them.
Maybelle was looking at Lance with her best churchgoing look of serenity. Her honey tone matched the sweetness and light of her expression. “Lance, I was thinking about that young man who just barged in here. Maybe you should review his loan file, too? From the sound of it, you might find an error that’s enough to keep you alive.”
Two Bites Too Many Page 2