Without waiting for him to reply, Maybelle gently pushed past Sarah. “Come along, Sarah.”
Following her mother, Sarah listened for anything else Lance might say, but all she heard was the firm click of his closing door, followed by a large guffaw from Maybelle.
“Well, I do believe round one went well,” Maybelle said.
“Round one? How many do you anticipate in this battle?”
“Whatever it takes to get a knockout.”
“Even if it’s a technical?” Sarah pointed to the polished wood clock hanging on the wall behind the teller counter. “Let’s get over to Buffalo Betty’s so we can visit for a few minutes before I need to meet Harlan at city hall. I promised to touch base with him fifteen minutes before the meeting in case he came up with any questions preparing his presentation to the council.”
“We’ll have to visit another time. We’re not going to get a biscuit this morning.”
“We’re not?”
“No. Round two is about to begin. I can assure you Lance and I will have the matter of the loan resolved before the meeting. By the way, it was a good idea to let Harlan be your spokesman at the council meeting. He’s pretty unflappable.”
Sarah agreed. Her boss, Harlan Endicott, was both a competent lawyer and an excellent speaker. Unlike how her emotions or the council members’ questions might distract her from hammering home her point, Harlan would stay glued to his topic.
“First, though, call your sister. Before I go for the knockout, I want to make sure Marcus and Emily didn’t get carried away and buy any of those thousand-dollar fixtures.”
“I’m sure Emily didn’t. You know how practical she is.”
“I repeat. Call your sister. I need my ducks in order before I circle back for the kill.”
“Circle back?”
“Of course. You go on to city hall and meet Harlan while I visit a few minutes with Eloise. Then I’m going to use the door your daddy preferred to finish my banking. I want that loan approved before the council meeting and before I tell him I’m moving my account.”
Sarah made a face but put through the requested call. Emily answered on the first ring and with equal quickness responded that neither she nor Marcus had ordered anything out of the ordinary for Southwind. There was nothing, Emily assured Sarah, in expenditures or proposed items that should have precluded the loan. Hanging up, Sarah shared Emily’s comments with her mother.
“I didn’t think Emily would have done something stupid. It will be interesting to see what Lance says once he reviews the file.”
“If it was an honest mistake and he apologizes and approves the loan, why move your account? Won’t that be a nuisance?”
“Because my reason for dealing with this bank was tied to your father and the relationship we built with Lance. While Lance was working his way up, he always provided us with excellent service. Now that he’s on top, he’s either shirking his responsibilities, enjoying people flattering him, or simply not keeping tabs on what his underlings are doing.”
She pointed at Lance’s closed door. “I’m afraid Lance’s other activities have gone to his head. He’s spending way too much time giving speeches and cutting ribbons to be an effective banker. He acted like he never signed off on this loan rejection, but his name was on the rejection letter Emily received. If he did know the details of the loan and still disapproved it, he’s simply a louse. Either way, I don’t want him as my personal banker, and I certainly don’t want to deal with Bailey after he already rejected a loan request from our family. Now, get going, and if we’re a few minutes late, remember the meeting can’t start without the council president.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Like Lance’s office, the council room had two entrances. Most people entered at the top and walked down the steep steps in the auditorium-styled room to find a seat. A few feet in front of the first row, two unadorned long tables, each with three matching oak chairs, flanked a podium with a microphone. These seats, like those above them, faced the horseshoeshaped raised platform where the council members sat. The single door on the far side of the dais was pretty much used only by staff members bringing in documents or council members making grand entrances or quick escapes to their offices.
Today, Jacob stood just inside the top of the council room. Sarah was delighted to see him. Although she’d written him off as a rich pretty boy slumming in Marcus’s kitchen when they’d first been introduced, she’d come to realize he was the real thing—a hardworking friend who rarely thought about the good looks he’d been blessed with. They’d easily fallen into the teasing roles of a big sister with a pesky, but devoted, little brother, who shared her goal of rezoning Main Street.
“Deciding whether to stay or waiting for someone?” she asked him, opting not to tell him how proud she was when Emily confided he’d helped Marcus after the fire by insisting his share of the continuing wage insurance money go to the other employees.
“Waiting for my friend, Cliff.”
A perfect opening, Sarah thought, to find out who this Cliff guy was. Something about him nagged at her. She was unsuccessful at making any connection until she glanced toward the dais, where Mr. Rogers was engaged in conversation with Anne Hightower, Jacob’s sister and vice president of the council.
Seeing Mr. Rogers, Sarah remembered Clifford was the name of the nephew who was going to repair his fence. Considering coincidences rarely happened in real life, she doubted there could be many men named Cliff or Clifford who fixed things, living in Wheaton.
“Is your friend Mr. Rogers’s nephew?”
“That’s right. Cliff’s late mother was Mr. Rogers’s sister. Sorry about his huffing and puffing at the bank. He’s really a good guy. This bank thing really got under his skin.”
Lance, Sarah recalled, also characterized Cliff as a good guy. She wondered why, if Cliff was such a great guy, everyone was apologizing for him. She also questioned, but so Jacob could hear her, how she’d never met Cliff until today.
“Your paths probably never crossed. His mom sent him to military school between her second and third divorce. Back then, we’d have been way outside the high-school aged purview of my sister, Anne, and you.”
Sarah laughed, tossing her long dark mane. She reached up and pushed an escaped strand behind her ear. “You’re right. Back then, I wouldn’t have recognized the existence of anyone from the junior high.” She moved out of the way of someone trying to get around them.
“I’ve always understood that in this part of the world sending a boy to military school in those days was code for dealing with someone who needed straightening out.”
Jacob squirmed. “Let’s just say Cliff always stood up for what’s right or at least he thought was right. Sometimes that meant he came across a bit impulsive or abrupt.”
“You’re kiddin’. You should have seen him when he came back to Lance’s office. Abrupt wouldn’t quite be the word for describing that encounter.”
“He came back? When?”
“While my mother and I were having our appointment.”
“I didn’t know that.” Jacob rubbed his forehead. “You know, he’s a very talented contractor. Wheaton was the last place he expected to land back on his radar.”
People fled Wheaton promising to never come back, but often did. Her sister, Emily, was a perfect example. She’d sworn when she left for culinary school she was done with Wheaton and Birmingham. Emily’s journey had taken her to New York, San Francisco, and other exotic-sounding places, but she’d ended up right back where she started. “What compelled him to come back?”
“His brother needed help in Birmingham.”
Sarah screwed up her face. “I’m confused. Does Cliff live in Birmingham or Wheaton?”
“Until recently, he worked exclusively in Birmingham, but he’s had a place here for almost a year.”
It didn’t make sense to Sarah. How could someone live in a small community like Wheaton without her seeing him when he shopped for food,
banked, or took advantage of other downtown services? “Considering how many times we’ve seen each other today, I can’t understand how our paths never crossed.”
“Because he’s rarely been in town. When Cliff called and told me his brother wanted his help on a short-term project, I invited him to bunk with me. He accepted, but once he realized the Birmingham project was going to take a lot longer than he’d been led to believe, he moved out.”
“He got a place in Birmingham?”
“No. He’d spent time hiking around Wheaton’s outskirts and suddenly couldn’t remember why he never wanted to come back here. Instead of renting a place in Birmingham or Wheaton, he stayed in a hotel room in Birmingham but bought land on the bluff. About a year ago, he ran utilities to a small trailer he put on it to live in while he built himself a regular cabin. Unfortunately, until he finished the Birmingham job, he only worked on the cabin in his spare time.”
“I gather from the scene in Lance’s office, that loan was important to him. After watching what Emily and Marcus are going through as small business owners, I can understand how having his loan called on even one construction job would make things difficult across the board.”
Jacob peered around the lobby and lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “I shouldn’t say anything, but it was the mortgage for his cabin rather than related to his construction jobs. Having it called made so little sense, I told him he needed to make an appointment with Harlan because he might have a claim of some kind. Cliff’s not overextended and there’s no problem with his stream of income. He doesn’t do odd jobs. His are all well-funded and big.”
Sarah was glad Jacob had referred Cliff to Harlan. She liked the idea of additional business for Harlan. She still felt guilty for the many hours he’d neglected his practice while getting Emily and her out of trouble four months ago. Then again, after listening to Lance’s explanation about compliance and regulations and Bailey’s assurance that every reason a loan was denied was documented, she feared there wouldn’t be any cause of action. “What job is Cliff doing?”
“Right now, he’s the contractor the strip center hired to reconstruct the part that burned, including Southwind. That alone is a large job, but Marcus and a few of the other tenants have also hired him to oversee their buildouts.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Marcus contract with him separately?”
“Because the shopping center only provides a shell or four walls. Anything else you see in a store or restaurant, like the fixtures and décor, falls on the tenant. That’s why opening anything is expensive and risky.”
Jacob raised his hand and waved over her shoulder. “There’s Cliff, now.”
Sarah turned back and glanced toward where Cliff was coming through the doors. As striking as he was in a rugged way, he appeared more disheveled now than he had been during the altercation at the bank. She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable with what she’d learned about him. When she looked up again, he was glaring at her while rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. He stuck his hand into his pocket, but the direction of his gaze didn’t waver.
Sarah decided they should meet another time. Faking seeing someone she had to say hello to, she muttered a quick good-bye to Jacob and took off.
Committed to continuing down the steps, Sarah peered around the auditorium, hoping to spot a friendly face. The first person she saw in a row on the left was her ex-husband’s bimbo, Jane. The sight of her made Sarah’s skin prickle. Feeling no need for an unpleasant confrontation, Sarah searched for a seat on the right side of the council room. She was relieved when Emily, seated midway down on the right with Harlan and Emily’s boyfriend, Marcus, caught her attention and pointed to empty seats in their row. Sarah waved back and made her way toward Emily’s row.
As she neared it, she noticed a handsome man she didn’t recognize seated next to Emily. Rather than climbing over everyone in the row to reach the empty seat on Harlan’s far side, Sarah sat next to the stranger. She snuck a peek at him and almost laughed out loud. For the second time in a day, she mentally found herself labeling someone a hunk. This one was more her type than Cliff. He was handsome in a similarly rugged way, but this guy was Mr. Polished. He could be cast as Adonis in any play.
Emily leaned over, in front of the stranger. “Glad you made it. Sarah, I don’t think you’ve met Thomas Howell, the owner of the new Birmingham Howellian luxury hotel.”
Sarah put out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve been hearing about your art collection, especially the cat-themed exhibit. I understand it’s quite something.”
“So, they say.” He smiled at Sarah, showing perfectly straight white teeth. He’d had a great orthodontist or been as blessed with teeth that were equally fine as his other well-chiseled features. Either way, Sarah labeled him model material.
“I have a Siamese cat, RahRah. Since I inherited him, I’ve really learned to appreciate cats. I guess you fancy them, too?”
Sarah barely heard him comment about his mother starting the collection because of her love of cats and how nice cat ownership was. She was too busy berating herself for letting her mouth run wild. As memories of what she knew about his hotel, travels, and lifestyle came back to her, Sarah was sure she’d come across as a first-class idiot, but his words belied that.
“If you like, I’d be glad to give you a personal tour of the cat exhibit.”
“That would be lovely,” she stammered, excited at spending personal time with him. She glanced over to see if Emily was paying attention to their conversation. If she hadn’t known Emily and Marcus were an item, she might have thought Emily’s flushed face and general level of excitement, so like the mannerisms Sarah associated with their mother, also showed a personal interest in Thomas. Instead, Sarah realized he’d probably invited Emily to do something in his kitchen.
That made sense. Thinking back, Sarah recalled Emily showing her his card right after Emily won the Wheaton Food Expo competition four months ago. Thomas had been in the audience that day. He’d been so impressed with Emily’s presentation and cooking talents, he’d stopped her as she left the stage, pressed his card into her hand, and invited her to participate in a future food-related event at his hotel.
“Your sister agreed to do a cooking exhibition at the Howellian. You’re welcome to join her.”
Before she could explain how cooking wasn’t really her thing, Marcus let loose with a tart zinger. “Better be careful, Thomas. When Sarah finds herself too close to a kitchen, she and anyone around it are liable to get scorched.”
Sarah played along. Better not to dispute what was being said about her kitchen prowess, especially because it was true. In her mind, the best way to keep a kitchen clean was to never turn on the stove. Then again, after surreptitiously examining Thomas for a few minutes, she concluded he was a man she might be willing to learn to cook dinner for. He not only was handsome, but she couldn’t help noticing he had the type of hands, with long tapered fingers, that made her melt.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself and keep from again demonstrating she talked too much, she reminded herself her ex-husband, William Taft Blair, also had had those kind of hands and things hadn’t turned out well. But, as her mother repeatedly advised, “Sarah, you need to give men a second chance. They aren’t all rats like Bill.”
Stealing another peek at his hands, Sarah observed his watch. Like his hands, it was beautiful. Sarah wasn’t sure what brand it was, but she knew it was expensive. Silver or white gold, it had a wide face easily read even from where she sat. She was surprised to see it was already past one. Glancing back to the top of the auditorium, the double doors were closed. When she’d last looked, Anne and only one other council member were seated, but now all the council members were in their places except for the council’s president.
The rising decibels of the mutterings in the room indicated the natives were getting restless. Her mother had joked that nothing could start without Lance, but as punctual as her mother always was, S
arah knew Maybelle would have prodded him to be on time for the meeting.
Sarah checked her phone to see if she had a message from her mother.
None.
Commotion near the door used by the council members caught Sarah’s attention. Bailey, the loan officer, stood in the doorway. This time he wasn’t burdened down with a pile of papers when he scurried into the room toward the dais. If it was possible, Sarah thought his face was even paler than before. Although he went straight to Anne Hightower, who sat erectly next to Lance’s empty chair, instead of quite facing Anne, Bailey was intently scanning the audience. He froze when his gaze met Sarah’s.
“It’s Mr. Knowlton. He’s dead!”
Not sure if she’d heard right, Sarah maintained an unbroken stare with Bailey. Only when he repeated “he’s dead” and added “your mother” did she break the linkage of their gazes to push her way out of her row and the auditorium. Behind her, Anne Hightower postponed the meeting.
CHAPTER FIVE
With Harlan and Emily close on her heels, Sarah ran toward the bank. The three worked their way around the small group of bystanders already peering through the bank’s glass doors and windows, as well as the ambulance and fire engine that blocked the front of the building. The security guard who’d been on duty earlier let the three into the lobby but stopped them from going beyond the entrance by using his body as if it was a solid wall.
“Alvin,” Harlan said to the security guard. “What’s going on?”
Still huffing from running from city hall, Sarah didn’t wait to hear an explanation. She forced words out of her mouth. “My mother?”
Alvin pointed across the lobby toward Lance’s office.
Sarah shuddered. “My mother is in his office?”
Shaking his head, Alvin again pointed. This time, Sarah looked to the left of Lance’s partially closed door to the seats where Eloise had Maybelle and Sarah wait earlier that day. Her mother was seated in one chair. Eloise sat beside her, her head bent toward Maybelle. She encircled Maybelle’s shoulders with one arm, while reaching across her lap with the other to clutch Maybelle’s hand. Even from this distance, her mother looked fragile and small, but she was alive and seemingly uninjured.
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