Part 3 (1/2)
”You okay now?” Elena asked.
”Yes,” Samantha lied. ”Call down to Luke and tell him to put together the mother of all gift baskets.”
At 10:00 a.m. Samantha walked into the bank bearing a cellophane-wrapped basket filled to the brim with goodies from Sweet Dreams Chocolates. If this didn't melt Blake Preston's heart-well, then, he had no heart to melt.
Speaking of, there he sat at the manager's desk in the far corner, a sandy-haired tackling dummy in a suit. Blake Preston looked more suited to a WWE Friday night smack down than to sitting behind a bank manager's desk, deciding the fate of local businesses.
Lauren sent Samantha a welcoming smile from her teller's counter, but the one she got from Blake Preston when he saw her approach his desk wasn't quite so friendly. Wary would've been a better word for it. Even wary, it qualified for a toothpaste commercial. Whoa, that was some wattage, and she felt the electricity clear across the room. She couldn't help checking his left hand for signs of a ring as he stood to greet her. None.
Never mind his ring finger or any other part of him. You're here to do business.
She could almost hear her sister whispering in her ear, ”Charm enters into business more than you realize.”
She donned her most charming smile and said, ”Hi,” injecting her voice with goodwill. You like me. You want to give me a longer extension on my loan. ”I'm Samantha Sterling from Sweet Dreams Chocolates. We went to high school together,” she added, hoping that would earn her some brownie points.
He held out his hand for her to shake. She took it and felt an even bigger jolt than she'd gotten from his smile. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe they were going to hit it off. Maybe he'd be happy to grab a mop and help her clean up the mess she was in.
”I remember,” he said.
Right. You were older and too busy partying and cutting cla.s.ses to pay attention to a nerdy undercla.s.sman. ”I was just a lowly freshman, but you made quite an impression.” There, that was pretty darned charming if she did say so herself. ”I thought you might enjoy some samples from the best chocolate company in Was.h.i.+ngton,” she said, handing over the gift basket.
He took it and stood there as if uncertain what to do with it. His computer and several piles of papers were taking up all the surface s.p.a.ce on his desk. ”Well, thanks. That was...nice. Have a seat.”
She sat and he sat, still holding the goodies.
”You'll really like the chocolate-covered potato chips,” she said, pointing to her basketful of bribes. ”Those are our newest product.”
”Interesting.” He s.h.i.+fted the fortune in chocolate sitting on his lap as awkwardly as though he were an old bachelor who'd just been handed a baby.
Okay, that took care of the charm. Next, she decided to play the sympathy card. ”I'm not sure if you're aware of it, but we've had a few challenges in our business. We just lost my stepfather.”
”I heard. I'm sorry,” he said, and looked properly sympathetic.
”Things have been a little chaotic and then this morning I discovered a letter from you.”
He cleared his throat. ”I'm afraid we have something of a problem. You're behind on your loan.”
As if she wasn't aware of that? As if she hadn't read the friggin' letter? She could feel her blood pressure rising and it took every last ounce of willpower she had to remain professional. ”This business has been in my family for a long time. I'm the fourth generation.”
”Ms. Sterling. Samantha. I understand what this business must mean to you.”
No, you don't. You have no idea. She was probably radiating anger. She tried her best to look charming. ”Not just to me. We employ a lot of people, all who have families and live in this town.”
”I know that. I grew up here. But-”
Oh, no. Here came the but.
”But the kind of leniency the bank indulged in under the previous management is what got them in so much trouble.”
”I'm not asking for any more money,” she said, keeping her voice low so everyone in this fishbowl wouldn't hear her. ”I just need a few months to sort things out. If you could give us a little extra time, extend the loan...”
Now he was shaking his head sadly. ”I'm afraid I can't. I'd like to, but I can't. As I said in the letter, Cascade Mutual has a strict ninety-day policy on past-due loans. We've already extended yours until the end of next month.”
”I recognize that,” she said, and trotted out her most charming smile, ”but surely you can make an exception for extreme circ.u.mstances. All we need is another six months while we restructure the company.”
”I'm sorry,” he said earnestly. ”I really am. I wish I could extend the deadline but my hands are tied. You're going to have to come up with that money before the end of February.”
”That would take a miracle,” she protested.
He heaved those big boulders that pa.s.sed for shoulders in a helpless shrug. ”We've got several churches in town. I think if I were you I'd have them start praying.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. ”You know, you have a sick sense of humor.”
”I wasn't kidding,” he said. ”I'm sorry. I wish I could help you further but I've got my orders.”
What was this, the military? ”You're a bank manager,” she said between gritted teeth. ”You could do some managing and find a way to work with me.”
He shook his head. ”Don't think I haven't been trying. I'm aware of what your company means to the community and I appreciate your situation.”
”I'll just bet,” she growled. Oh, very charming, Samantha.
Well, who cared? Her s.h.i.+p had already gone down and she was now bobbing in the icy waters of despair. And she'd given him treats to eat while he watched her turn blue. All her business training, all her sister's advice to be charming, fled before her rage. She stood and plucked the basket from his lap.
He blinked in shock. ”What-”
”There's no use wasting fine chocolate on those who don't value it enough to want to save it from extinction.” And with her peace offering clutched to her chest, she turned and marched out of the bank.
The gaze of every bank employee was on Blake Preston, making him feel like a c.o.c.kroach under a magnifying gla.s.s. Arnie Amundsen had left him here, an invader in a hostile land.
Of course, no one was overtly hostile. They were all too glad to have jobs for that. But he could sense his unpopularity from the polite yet lukewarm reception he'd been given, from the looks, sometimes thoughtful (What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?), sometimes resentful (Who asked you to come back and meddle in our business?). He was there to get them out of the disaster their beloved Arnie had created. And if he hadn't come to meddle in their business, they wouldn't have a business, d.a.m.n it! He knew it and they knew it. They just resented it.
And he resented the quickly snuffed snicker he'd heard in one corner of the room, the way Lauren Belgado over at her teller's counter swallowed her serves-him-right smirk and went back to serving Heinrich Blum, who was making a deposit for Lupine Floral. The way heads lowered to hide smiles.
He pressed his lips firmly together in the hope that it would, somehow, stop the sizzle on his cheeks and neck. This would be all over town by five o'clock. Of course, no one would know the details. All anyone would be able to pa.s.s on was what they saw-him being an obvious jerk and upsetting their reigning queen of chocolate. Great, just great. Welcome back, Preston. He'd barely returned to his hometown, and he was already campaigning for Public Enemy Number One.
What was he supposed to do, anyway? He wasn't king of the world. He was a bank manager and if he didn't manage this bank well, it would go under. And all those old high school buddies and friends of a friend who wanted special treatment were going to have to get that through their thick heads.
Maybe that old saying was true and you couldn't go back. Icicle Falls had been a great place to grow up. Church picnics, Boy Scout camping trips, fis.h.i.+ng the river with Gramps. But now Blake found himself thinking he should have left small-town life in the idyllic past where it belonged. Taking this position hadn't been a step up. It had been a step into a big pile of s.h.i.+t.
He adjusted his s.h.i.+rt collar that had gone suddenly tight and then went back to work on the loan application papers in front of him. But all he could see was Samantha Sterling's full lips frowning at him. What had he been smoking when he decided to go into banking after he graduated from college? Heck, he could have followed his folks when they moved to Seattle and helped his dad run that Honda dealers.h.i.+p. Or gone into computer sales and made a fortune. Or become a construction worker. Truck driver. Prison warden.
Right now he felt like a prison warden with everyone around him planning to stick him with a s.h.i.+v, and all because of one angry woman. Correction, angry and unbalanced.
Of course, he could see how his predecessor had gotten sucked into making poor decisions. That long red hair, those big hazel eyes, that cute little tush-Samantha Sterling was hotter than the Wenatchee Valley in August. So were her sisters and her mother. He'd seen them around. They were a tag team of damsels in distress. He could imagine Muriel flas.h.i.+ng a bit of cleavage and batting those thick-lashed eyes of hers at old Arnie and putting him in a trance where he'd happily give her everything, including the keys to the vault. Watching her and her daughter struggle so valiantly to keep the family business going, watching those big eyes fill with tears-the poor slob hadn't stood a chance.