Southern Comforts

by Nan Dixon

  “Dolley tells me you girls want to expand,” Wayne said.

  Girls? Abby gritted her teeth. Dolley rolled her eyes.

  “We have seven more rooms to complete on the third floor.” Abby pulled out the floor plan. “Then we plan to remodel the carriage house into a restaurant—Southern Comforts—and add guest rooms above that.”

  Wayne nodded absently. “That’s ambitious.”

  “We can handle it.” Abby forced herself to relax. Confident people didn’t grip the edge of the table as if it were a life raft.

  Wayne riffled through the stack of papers in front of him. Probably the family’s financial history back to the 1800s. “When did you last update rooms?”

  “We brought the last room on the second floor online this month,” Abby said.

  Wayne frowned as he flipped through financial statements. “You’re doing pretty well.”

  “We’re making a profit.” Dolley rapped her pen on the tabletop.

  Abby laid a hand on top of her sister’s.

  “We’d like to restructure our current loan and turn it into long-term financing.” Dolley pushed at her curls.

  “That’s a stretch,” Wayne said. “And what about this restaurant? You’re requesting another three hundred thousand. That’s a lot, given how many new restaurants fail.”

  “We have a great location and reputation.” Abby schooled the desperation out of her voice. “This isn’t as if we’re starting from scratch. We have a built-in customer base.”

  “Plus, Abby managed a successful restaurant in New York,” Dolley added.

  Wayne nodded but didn’t comment.

  Dolley pushed a printout toward him. “Here’s a record of people who’ve tried to book rooms during the next few weeks. We’ve had to turn them away because we’re at capacity. We could easily fill the seven rooms we’re asking to remodel and another houseful.”

  “That’s for St. Paddy’s Day.” Wayne tipped his head. “Can you sustain that occupancy rate through the rest of the year?”

  “We believe we can.” Dolley’s voice cracked.

  “And your father thought he could sell those condos.” Wayne tapped his finger against the file.

  “This is a B and B, not our father’s condos.” Abby’s hands shook.

  Wayne waved his hand over the file. “The mistakes your father made are part of your family’s credit history.”

  “We’ve never been late on a payment.” Dolley’s face was so red, Abby worried she might erupt.

  “Do you know of any economic-development loans we might qualify for?” Abby asked.

  Wayne scrunched up his mouth. “You might check with the SBA, but I don’t think they’ll lend you this much money.”

  “Maybe we could get a portion from them and the remainder from the bank,” Abby suggested.

  Wayne tapped his fingers together. “The bank would insist on being the primary security holder.”

  “You’ve already asked that we collateralize our loan with a mortgage on the entire Fitzgerald House. The bank will have at least five times more collateral than you need.” Dolley folded her files. “Abby, it’s time we look for another bank.”

  “Dolley,” Abby gasped. Had a grease fire blown through and sucked the oxygen out of the room?

  “You think you can change banks in this economy?” Wayne snapped.

  “We need a bank who wants to be our partner.” Dolley slapped her cup down and it sloshed on the papers strewn across the table.

  How had this conversation deteriorated so drastically? They couldn’t handle the work of changing banks while heading into their busiest months.

  She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Let’s step outside.”

  Wayne shoved his chair away from the table. “Good luck.”

  Abby pushed out of her chair. “Can we take a time-out here?”

  Dolley and Wayne glared at each other.

  “Our relationship goes back decades,” Abby pleaded.

  “And we’re not getting credit for our years of business.” Dolley planted her fists on the table.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Wayne said. “Taking changes in front of the loan committee isn’t easy. With the terrible economy and tougher scrutiny of the bank’s assets, we have to be careful.”

  “And will you fight for us?” Dolley asked, staring him in the eye.

  He hesitated before giving a slow nod.

  “We’re wasting our time. Obviously, Wayne doesn’t really believe we can succeed.” Dolley stuffed papers into her briefcase. “Maybe another bank will appreciate our business. We’re leaving.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rule #12—Once guests check in, they’re our responsibility.

  Mamie Fitzgerald

  GRAY SLID HAMBURGER patties onto toasted buns and set one on each plate. Amazing how natural it felt, grilling dinner on the small private patio in the Fitzgerald House courtyard with Abby.

  She wasn’t in the best of moods. While they ate, he planned to find out why she kept scowling. Hopefully, he could cheer her up.

  “I’ve made your family’s dinner reservations.” Abby set the plates on the table.

  “Thanks. Can’t wait to introduce you to them.” He shut off the gas. “How do you want to describe us?”

  Abby rubbed her forehead. “I—I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  “Okay.” He gritted his teeth, wanting to push her to acknowledge their relationship. And that wasn’t like him at all.

  “No. Go ahead and tell your family whatever you want,” she said, waving her hand.

  As she headed back to the kitchen, he said, “I should warn you, my mother...” How should he describe her? “Even though she didn’t grow up super wealthy, she’s kind of a...snob.”

  “Nice to know.” Abby turned at the door. “But I’m pretty good at handling people.”

  The screen slapped shut behind her.

  Yes, she was. But this was his mother.

  When Abby came back out to the patio, he asked, “How did your bank meeting go this morning?”

  Abby slammed down a bowl, and cottage fries spilled out. “Awful.”

  Gray jerked. He’d never seen Abby angry. “Did they turn you down?”

  “We never even got to that point.” Abby’s hands fisted at her sides. “Wayne harassed us about the debt our father racked up. Dolley freaked out at Wayne’s condescending attitude, and she threatened to pull our business from the bank. Then she walked out.”

  Abby took a gulp of her beer. She was so tense, he could see the bottle shaking in her hand.

  The screen door banged, and Dolley stalked to the table. “Bess says you called that rat, Wayne.”

  “I had to fix the mess you made.” Abby slapped her hands on the table. “He wouldn’t talk to me.”

  Abby’s posture mimicked her sister’s, fists on the table, body leaning forward. The women glared at each other.

  “I’m serious about finding another bank for this loan.” Dolley punched her fist against the table, and the dishes rattled. “We don’t have to take that crap from anyone.”

  “We can’t!” Abby threw her hands up in the air, knocking her bottle over. Beer sprayed all over the table.

  “Why not?” Dolley yelled back.

  “You’re supposed to be the numbers person. Read the damn loan. I did after the meeting imploded.” Abby righted the bottle and futilely mopped up the spill with a napkin. “We’re required to maintain all our accounts at Mercantile until the balloon is repaid.”

  Dolley’s mouth dropped open. Her already pale skin turned a little gray.

  Abby threw down the sopping napkin and paced the small patio. “If we pull our accounts, we’re in default. I may not have gone to business school,
but I can read a damn loan document.”

  Dolley slumped into an empty chair and dropped her head in her hand. “Oh, shit. I forgot. Must be sleep deprivation.”

  Gray caught Abby’s shoulders on her next pass. “There’s got to be an escape clause.”

  “Full repayment of the loan.” Abby rolled her eyes.

  Dolley’s head jerked up. “We can refinance with another bank. The other bank could pay off Mercantile.”

  “We don’t have months to find another bank, and then get through the appraisal and loan negotiations,” Abby snapped. “Samuel’s already started working on the first room.”

  “We can try,” Dolley said, twisting her hands together.

  Abby scowled at her sister. “I should have sent you home when you told me you’d been up all night. You can’t work those hours and then meet with Wayne. Combining a sleep-deprived, espresso-fueled sister with an idiot loan officer is a recipe for disaster.” She pointed a finger at Dolley. “No one has a temper like you.”

  Gray sat, hoping Abby would follow his lead. “Sometimes there are ways around the loan stipulations,” he said.

  “Really?” Dolley turned to him.

  “I could take a look if you want,” he suggested.

  “You’d review the documents for us?” Dolley asked as if he’d thrown her a life preserver.

  “Gray is our guest.” Abby crossed her arms and frowned. “This is our problem.”

  Guest. A sharp pain twisted in his chest. “I thought I was more than a guest.”

  “You...are.” Abby’s hand covered her mouth. She shot a look at her sister and shook her head.

  Yeah, couldn’t let the sisters know they were dating. He exhaled. “Between my real estate background and watching how you run the B and B, maybe I can see something.”

  “He’s seen our renovation plans,” Dolley said. “What will it hurt if he sees the financial side of our business?” Dolley held out her hand.

  “I’m willing to help,” Gray said, patting Dolley’s hand.

  “My sisters and I will take care of this.” Abby’s lips formed a straight line.

  “I know I screwed up, but damn it, we can’t do everything by ourselves.” Dolley’s frustration came through loud and clear. “Gray knows about this stuff. Sometimes we need help.”

  He stood and touched Abby’s shoulder. Her muscles were as hard as granite under his fingers. “I’d like to help.”

  Tears glittered in Abby’s eyes. Were they from anger or embarrassment?

  “Our meeting this morning reinforced every misconception Wayne has about the Fitzgeralds,” Abby whispered. “We need this loan.”

  “Why don’t you let me look things over?” he offered again.

  “Come on.” Dolley stood and wrapped one arm around her sister’s waist. “Maybe Gray can see something that we can’t.”

  Abby sank into the chair. “All afternoon I worried I’d be the person who lost Fitzgerald House.” She clutched at the hand Dolley placed on her shoulder. “Mamma left me in charge. It would kill her if I let something happen to the house.”

  She was carrying that kind of burden around? He’d had no idea things were that bad.

  Dolley slumped in the chair and laid her head on Abby’s shoulder. “Please, let Gray help. Then if I have to grovel to Wayne, I promise I’ll do it.”

  Gray hated the defeated look on Abby’s face. “Let me take a look,” he said softly.

  Abby’s shoulders slumped. “Sure.”

  “What do you need?” Dolley asked him.

  “The current loan agreements, the application and any financial information you provided to the bank. That should start me off.”

  He pictured reviewing everything tonight while Abby worked on the St. Paddy’s Day preparations. He liked the idea of working together in the evening. That was a better date than any dinner or benefit he’d attended back in Boston.

  “My file’s in the kitchen.” Dolley gave her sister a small squeeze. “Abs, everything will be fine.” Her curls bounced as she glanced at him. “Thank you. Hell, maybe you’d want to invest in the old house.”

  “Dolley!” Abby’s glare could have seared her sister.

  Dolley shrugged. “Gray has a better idea of how we operate than Wayne does.”

  Gray covered Abby’s cold hand with his. “Is this okay with you?”

  She hesitated before nodding. Her face was passive, and she just looked beat. All because of some idiot loan officer.

  * * *

  AFTER REVIEWING THE Fitzgeralds’ information the night before, Gray was impressed. The family was asset strong, but cash poor. If he were looking to get into the B and B business, they would be the perfect takeover candidate.

  They’d had big cash outlays over the past twenty-four months, but the expenditures had improved the house and the services their guests received. The bank should be jumping at the chance to loan Abby money. She’d work herself to the bone before allowing Fitzgerald House to fail.

  At this afternoon’s meeting, he hoped to get Abby’s loan process back on track. He’d called Lennertz this morning, and the man had suggested they meet at a café on Broughton Street.

  “Thanks for agreeing to this, Mr. Lennertz.” Gray shook the man’s hand. Soft, just like everything else about him.

  “Call me Wayne.” The chair creaked as the banker settled his weight into it.

  “And I’m Gray.” He nodded to the waitress standing with a coffeepot in hand and she poured him a cup. He doctored the brew with cream, wishing it were Abby’s coffee.

  Wayne ordered coffee and pecan pie. “You’re rehabbing a warehouse over on River Street, right?”

  “That’s right.” Gray sized up his adversary. He’d done his research before coming here this afternoon. The Lennertz family had run the bank since Sherman had delivered Savannah to President Lincoln as a Christmas present. Wayne held his position because of family, not talent. Gray had run into his type too often. The best way to deal with a man like this was to play to his ego. No wonder the Fitzgeralds had problems. He couldn’t picture Dolley kowtowing to this man.

  “What can First Mercantile do for you?” Wayne added a serious dollop of cream to his coffee and then stirred in some sugar.

  “I’ve been staying at Fitzgerald House while I’m in town.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Wayne took a bite of his pie and sat back and sighed.

  “I’ve had the pleasure of living there since the beginning of February.” Gray leaned his elbows on the table. “I’ve taken an interest in the sisters’ plans.”

  “Those sisters are something else. I can’t believe they’re thinking about starting a restaurant.”

  Gray’s shoulders tensed at Wayne’s tone. “You don’t think they can do it?”

  “Sure, if they use someone else’s money. I doubt they’ll ever break even with a restaurant. I won’t let my bank take the risk.”

  “I heard the meeting yesterday imploded.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus, you should have seen Dolley blowing her stack.” Wayne leaned back in his chair, grinning.

  “She’s got a short fuse.”

  Wayne snorted. “Those Fitzgeralds have always been so uppity. They got their comeuppance after their daddy lost everything.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got history there.” Was that the real problem?

  “Yeah. I asked Mamie out too many times, but she only had eyes for Beau. Beau’s loan was the first one I ever made.” Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “I had to go back to working as a teller for two years because of his mess.”

  “But these women aren’t their father.” Gray forced a neutral expression across his face. “Fitzgerald House is the best-run place I’ve ever stayed in.”

  Wayne swallowed a chunk of pie. �
�I really shouldn’t be talking to you about their loan.”

  Now Lennertz discovered discretion? Gray wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, he tipped his head, trying for a buddy-buddy tone. “Well, you know women. They’ve asked me to straighten up the mess Dolley’s mouth created,” he lied.

  “’Bout time they got a man involved in their business. Maybe if they had more male influence, the sisters wouldn’t be looking at defaulting on the balloon. Too bad they didn’t bring you to the meeting yesterday.” The man leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure I could find a buyer for that prime piece of real estate.”

  “They aren’t looking to sell. If they were, I’d make an offer.” But only if Abby and her sisters ran the place.

  “With the depressed real estate market, a buyer could get a real bargain,” Lennertz said.

  “True, but I’m here to help get the loan application back on track.”

  “Yesterday’s meeting was supposed to be a quick review before I take the loan request to the committee,” Wayne drawled. “Too bad Dolley stomped out of my office.”

  “Can I answer any questions you didn’t get to ask?”

  “I don’t have any.” Wayne leaned forward. “I’m willing to support the house expansion loan, but no changes to the balloon loan and no additional funds for a restaurant.”

  This guy lacked vision. Gray had run into too many bankers who wouldn’t see a vision if the Angel Gabriel descended on them. “Have you ever been in the B and B?”

  “Sure. Years ago.”

  “I can’t count the number of guests I’ve met who come back year after year. Those sisters have loyal customers recommending their business to friends all over the country, all over the world.” Gray held up a hand. “You can’t buy that kind of marketing.”

  Wayne crossed his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy Fitzgerald House?”

  “No. As I said, I’m just here to talk about the loan.” Abby would skin him with one of her knives if she knew he’d met with Lennertz. “I’ll suggest Abby call you. I’d appreciate it if you kept this meeting between us. You can tell her the loan committee will be reviewing their application.”