Читать книгу The Sweetheart Deal - Syndi Powell - Страница 12
ОглавлениеIT TOOK TWO days to get clearance to enter what was left of the Sweetheart. Even then, Megs had to be accompanied by Will Stone, the town’s code inspector. And she had to wear a hard hat. She adjusted the heavy thing on her head and stepped over the threshold of her bakery. She stood in what once had been the retail area where her customers bought and ate their pastries. Snow now covered the broken glass of her display cases, the tabletops and chairs. The cash register was buried under more snow and broken timber. She walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
The damage here seemed minimal compared to the disaster in the front. Megs walked to the marble top of the work island that had saved her life and ran a hand along it. She glanced behind her to Will. “The insurance adjuster said he’d arrive at ten. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
Will nodded and glanced around. “I’m really sorry about what happened, Megs.”
“Not your fault.” She turned back and wandered to the shelves that still stood connected to the partial back wall. She pulled down a worn but now wet recipe book. She clutched it to her chest. “I’m glad Grammy’s not here to see this. It would kill her for sure.”
Will cleared his throat, probably not sure what to say to her gallows humor. She shrugged and walked back to the dining area. Being in the kitchen made her wish for something she could never get back.
A tiny man wearing a heavy parka ran into the bakery and glanced around. “Horrible. Simply horrible.”
Megs nodded. “Mr. Simon?”
The insurance adjuster brought out his cell phone and started to take pictures. “The devastation.”
She glanced around. Yep, that was what it felt like. “But you’ll be able to help me rebuild?”
He didn’t answer but continued to take pictures. She followed him around the front room, then through to the kitchen. Will handed him a hard hat, which the man put over his earmuffs. He snapped at least fifty pictures before he glanced at her. “Rebuild? Maybe. Mrs. Sweet’s insurance policy covered fire and flooding. But acts of God?” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“When we spoke on the phone, you assured me that this wouldn’t be an issue.” She looked around at her ruined business. “I believed you when you said that my policy covered damages.”
“Damages? Yes. Rebuilding?” He screwed his face up into a grimace. “Do you realize how much it will cost you to do that? Even on a smaller scale than what you once had?” He shook his head. “Your settlement will help you get started, but I’d suggest consulting a banker for a business loan. You’re going to need a lot more than what I can offer.”
The image of a certain banker’s face popped into her head. No. Never.
She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t this ever be easy?
Mr. Simon walked past her and into the kitchen area. She raised her brows questioningly at Will, who shrugged and followed the insurance adjuster. Maybe she could go into one of the Traverse City banks to get a loan. The bakery had a strong track record of sales, almost a century of them. Surely that would get her the funds she would need. It shouldn’t matter that she’d only been in charge of the business for four months, right?
Mr. Simon promised to inform her of the settlement within a few days. She shook his hand and thanked him for being prompt. Will Stone also shook her hand, but he paused before leaving through the front door. “I hate to say it, Megs, but Mr. Simon’s right. Anything to do with construction these days costs a lot. The insurance money will help, but you’re probably going to need a loan to cover the difference.”
She knew that, even as she resisted the idea. But she also knew she would do whatever she needed to avoid having to ask Adam for money. Anyone but him.
She thanked Will again, then locked the door behind him after he left. She sighed and walked back to the kitchen. She needed someone to give her advice. Someone who knew the business and could direct her. Problem was the person she’d depended on wasn’t here anymore.
Decision made, she grabbed her purse and locked the door and then walked down the street to where she’d parked her car on Main, since they still weren’t allowing vehicles on Lincoln.
She drove out to the countryside cemetery, where four generations of Sweets had been buried, and parked on the side of the road before trudging through the snow up the hill to where Grammy lay buried. She brushed the snow off the headstone marking her grandparents’ graves, then stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “I suppose you know why I’m here. The Sweetheart is in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”
She paused, listening to see if her dear Grammy would be able to communicate with her from the beyond. But only silence answered her.
Not that she’d expected to actually hear anything.
She thought of Grammy and how she and Pop Pop had kept the bakery going even through the lean times during the Great Depression and the sugar shortages of World War II. They’d rebuilt after a fire had destroyed the kitchen when her father had been a baby. They’d never given up, but had poured their hearts and souls into the Sweetheart.
They’d expect no less from her.
She kissed her glove, then rested it on the headstone. “Thank you both. I won’t let you down.”
She walked back to her car, determined to make things work. Somehow.
* * *
MONDAY MORNINGS REQUIRED enough coffee without a visit from the district manager. Adam sighed and poured himself his third cup, as well as one for Dave Thompson. He took both mugs to his office and handed one to his boss. “I don’t remember us having a meeting planned for today.”
Dave chuckled. “If I announced every time I was going to visit, I wouldn’t find out nearly enough about how things are really running in my branches.” He looked out the glass walls to the lobby area where a customer filled out a deposit slip at the stand and another stood at Eva’s window making his withdrawal. “Not that busy for a Monday morning, I see.”
“The weather has really affected the traffic the past few weeks. Besides, the snow birds are in Florida and won’t return until April or May.” Adam didn’t worry about the trickle of customers in January. But looking at the frown on Dave’s face made him rethink that position. “The winter months tend to be slower in Northern Michigan.”
Dave huffed and claimed the chair in front of Adam’s desk. “I thought when I brought you here that I was getting a go-getter who would make things happen in this area. Not a man who would offer excuses before he’d even started.”
“I am a go-getter, but I’m also realistic.” Adam rubbed his forehead above his nose where a tension headache threatened to form. He opened his eyes and looked at his boss, who waited for more. He sighed again. “The community had a setback last week when several businesses suffered from snow damage. Many of those business owners are our customers who will be looking to rebuild. I wanted to talk to you about an initiative that will not only leverage the business we have, but bring in more.”
Dave nodded. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”
Nothing like spitballing and making up things on the fly. Sure, he’d spent time considering options and alternatives for the community since the buildings had collapsed. But he hadn’t put anything concrete down on paper. They were merely ideas in his head at the moment. Adam put his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned slightly forward. “When you hired me for this location, the biggest obstacle you explained was the public image of the bank. Foreclosures on homes in the community were at a high. Deposits were down. And the previous bank manager was seen as the villain in the town drama.”
“Sounds right.”
“In the current crisis situation, I’d like to change the bank’s image so that we’re seen as a benefactor. Set up a community fund to help those who lost the most. Extend low-interest-rate loans to business owners who’ll need to build again. Make the bank a partner with the community in order to improve not only the businesses, but also our image.” He sat back in his chair. “If I can change that, I can bring in more money. We will be their first choice rather than last.”
Dave took a sip of his coffee then nodded. “Solid ideas. You think you can write up a plan and get it to me by the end of the day?”
Did he have a choice, really? “Absolutely.”
Dave stood, so Adam rose to his feet, as well. The other man extended his hand. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”
They shook hands, then Adam escorted Dave to the door of his office. He opened it to allow the other man to walk through. Dave turned back when he was halfway out the door. “I hope this works. You have ninety days to prove it to me, or I’ll have to reassess who I have at the helm of this branch.”
“Understood.” Adam kept the smile on his face even as the bottom fell out of his stomach. Ninety days? An ambitious plan like his would take almost that long to be put into place. He watched as Dave greeted Eva, then walked out to his car in the parking lot. He entered the lobby and let himself into the teller’s area. He waited until the customer in front of Eva had left before addressing her. “Dave was here.”
Eva didn’t look at him but nodded. “I saw. Everything okay?”
“Remember those ideas you said were locked in your head?”
“Yep.” Eva turned and gave him a smile. “You ready to hear them?”
He nodded and regarded the tiny woman. He’d been told by Dave that she was a dynamo and his biggest ally in the branch. It was time to see if it was true. “I’ll buy you lunch, and we can discuss what we both have in mind.”
“You’re on.” She straightened the bills in her drawer so they faced all in the same direction. “And you might want to consider going to the town hall meeting tomorrow night. They’re discussing the Lincoln Street situation and what to do.”
If he could present some of his ideas to the town council, perhaps he could get their support in helping turn around not just the community but also the bank. He nodded. “Great idea. Thanks. You’re worth every penny we pay you.”
She glanced up at him with a smile. “Then, maybe you can send more of that my way?”
He laughed. “In ninety days, if I’m still here, I’ll ensure it happens.”
* * *
MEGS ENTERED THE high school auditorium and scanned the crowd to find her sister. Kelly had promised to get them three seats together for what was sure to be a packed town hall meeting. Already they’d had to change the venue from town council chambers at city hall to the high school when people had called for details about the evening’s meeting. And if the half-full room was any indication, they had been correct in switching to a larger space.
Kelly waved at Megs from a spot in the middle of the fifth row. How she had missed her sister when she’d been living in Nashville pursuing her music career. Grammy’s death had brought her back, one bright light in those dark days. She walked down the aisle and stopped when she found Adam sitting at the end of the fifth row. He had his dark head bent over a stack of three-by-five note cards and didn’t notice her. She’d have to squeeze by his tall, lanky form to get to her sister. She cleared her throat, and he looked up at her, his chocolate-brown eyes peering into her hazels. “Excuse me. I need to get past you.”
He didn’t seem to understand her English but stared at her. She held up her hands as if to ask him what the problem was. He stood but didn’t move into the aisle to let her pass. Instead, she faced a dilemma: squeeze by him with her back to him or turn to face him as she attempted to walk by. She decided she couldn’t spend any more time looking at him and turned her back to him to squeeze past. The tight quarters made her brush her arm across his chest. If she’d still been in high school, she might have described the event in her diary and swooned as she told her sister about it. Instead, she ignored the fluttery feeling it brought to her belly and walked toward her sister. She glanced behind her and found Adam watching her. He nodded at her before returning to his seat. Megs rolled her eyes and took the open seat next to Kelly.
Activity on the stage brought Megs’s attention to the front of the auditorium. She leaned closer to her sister. “This should be interesting.”
Kelly’s eyes twinkled. “The meeting or that awkward moment with Adam?”
“You saw that?” Megs groaned. “A gentleman would have stepped out into the aisle to let me pass, but he wouldn’t budge. Not that he was ever anything but a cad.”
Kelly’s eyebrows raised at this. “A cad? Been reading regency romances again with your free time?”
“Free time seems to be all I’ve had lately since I can’t seem to get a loan.” She shook her head and glanced at the agenda someone had thrust into her hand. “This is probably just another waste of time.”
“Since when has the community coming together to help out ever been a waste? I think the accident has made you cranky.” Kelly stood and scanned the rear of the auditorium, probably searching the audience for Sam. “Don’t let what’s happened change you, Megs. You’re better than that.”
“You sound like Grammy.”
Her sister turned back and nodded. “And maybe she’d kick your backside until you got out of this funk, too.” She paused and waved, then sat down next to her. “Grammy wouldn’t give up on the Sweetheart.”
“I haven’t given up.” Megs adjusted her coat around her shoulders since there was a chill in the auditorium. “I’m being realistic. I’ve applied to two banks for a business loan. Struck out at the first place, and the second wouldn’t even take my application because I haven’t owned the bakery long enough.” She sighed and shook her head. “Worked at the place for fifteen years, but apparently that doesn’t mean a thing when you’re asking for tens of thousands of dollars.”
Kelly nodded toward the end of the aisle. “So talk to Adam.”
“Be serious.” She glanced at him quickly and then shook her head. “He’s the last person I’d go to for this. You remember what he was like in high school.”
“Was being the key word.” She looked up at Sam as he approached them. “Hey, babe.”
Sam bent over and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Full house tonight.” He looked around and nodded at several people. “I would have been here earlier, but my inspection went longer than planned with Will.”
Kelly and Megs held their collective breaths. With a soft voice, her sister asked, “And what did he say?”
Sam shrugged. “He approved all the changes.” He gave them both a wide smile. “We’re officially finished renovating.”
Kelly squealed and jumped up to hug him. “All that work and time.”
“It was worth it, right?” He let go of Kelly and put an arm around Megs’s shoulder. “You girls actually have a beautiful fully remodeled home.”
“You mean, you and Kelly do. Grammy left it to the two of you.” Megs smiled despite the sour feeling in her belly. “Congratulations, you guys.” She joined the group hug and willed herself to feel happy for the couple who seemed to have everything going right for them. Finally.
A gavel sounded on the podium onstage, so they ended their celebration and took their seats. Megs took another glance down the aisle at Adam, who still studied his note cards. She wondered what that was all about.
Rick adjusted the microphone. “Testing. Great. If we could all settle down, we’ll get the meeting started. I know there are a lot of questions and concerns about what’s been going on. If you didn’t receive an agenda for tonight, hold up your hand and I’ll make sure you get a copy.” He shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked out at them then nodded. “Good. First, let me express my regrets about the loss of property. I’m glad to say that there were no fatalities. Randy Simms remains in stable condition at the hospital, but Vicky tells me she expects to bring him home next week.”
Several people clapped at this. Rick joined in for a second or two, then continued. “Next, I’ll have our town code inspector Will Stone talk about the damage the businesses on Lincoln received and his expectations of what happens next. Will?”
Will took his place at the microphone. “Thank you, Rick. And like you, I am grateful that there was no loss of life. The businesses, on the other hand, took quite a hit. The hardware store had minimal damage, but the bakery, aquarium, bookstore and the apartment complex have suffered quite badly.” For the next several minutes he described what Megs already knew. The shell of the buildings stood, but the interiors had been wiped out. Rebuilding was now the priority for not only the business owners, but the community members, as well. “I know I’m missing my cinnamon roll fix like you are.” He looked out into the crowd and smiled at Megs.
She put her head down. Without her hands in dough, her life felt emptier and colder. She longed for the heat of the ovens and the scent of yeast and sugar. She’d tried making cookies and bread at home, but it wasn’t the same. She missed the Sweetheart. Her bakery.
“In terms of rebuilding, I’d like to introduce someone who is dedicated to bringing back the Lincoln street businesses. Our local bank manager, Adam Hawkins.”
Her jaw dropped. Will had to be mistaken. Adam was dedicated to himself and his own interests alone. Certainly not to Lake Mildred’s.
* * *
ADAM HADN’T EXPECTED applause as he took the stage, but he hadn’t expected stunned silence, either. He shook it off, reminding himself they remembered his past and not his present. He put his note cards on the podium and took a sweeping glance out over the audience. He found hazel eyes staring at him from the fifth row, but chose to ignore her for the moment.
He nodded to Will. “Thank you, Mr. Stone and Mr. Mayor. I appreciate this opportunity to present Foster Community Bank’s proposal to rebuild Lincoln Street.” He flipped the first card over. “And that’s what this is—an opportunity to come together as partners in redeeming what was lost.” He glanced out again and squelched the nerves radiating from his fingers, making his note cards tremble. He found Megan staring at him. He kept his focus on her. “Foster Community will offer low-interest-rate loans to those business owners affected by the snowstorms, whether directly or indirectly. After all, what happens to one of us touches the entire community.
“We are also proposing a community fund to raise the funds necessary to help in the rebuilding process. I have set up an account where anyone can donate a dollar, five, ten. Whatever you have. Foster has agreed to match all contributions.” He flipped the next card. “We want to be a partner during this difficult time. And I hope that together we can rebuild and revitalize Lincoln Street as well as Lake Mildred. Any questions?”
Hands shot up around the auditorium. He wanted to groan, but Eva had warned him about this. Rick approached the podium and pointed to a gentleman near the front. “Mr. Finney?”
“You said low interest rate. How low?”
Adam smiled. A question he was prepared for. “Three percent less than the current rate, which will save the business owner thousands over the life of the loan. And no application fee or closing costs.”
“Why would Foster be willing to work with us now when many of us lost our homes before because they refused?”
A hard question, but again he’d come prepared. “I regret how things were handled in the past. Those responsible are no longer with Foster Community, and we are working hard to repair those bridges we burned. I have been brought here to salvage the relationship the bank once enjoyed with you all. We want to be your source of sound advice and help you achieve your financial goals.” He stopped before he sounded anything more like a public-relations brochure. Another hand, and a familiar guy stood. Adam wanted to ask someone else, anyone else for a question, but he stood and waited. “And we should believe you why?”
His smile faltered slightly at the sight of his old friend Shane Lee. “I approached the bank president regarding these plans, and she has agreed to them all in writing. I have copies of our proposal should anyone need one.”
“I still don’t trust a word you say. We all remember what you were when you left here.” Shane took his seat.
Adam winced. He’d anticipated that something like this might come up, but he’d hoped it would come from someone else. “I grew up here, so you all know the boy that I was. But I’ve returned as a changed man. I don’t want to see us lose any of the businesses, including the aquarium store. Let’s work this out together. I’ll be in my office every day and every hour the bank is open this week and next for those who want to discuss this plan further.”
He glanced out at the audience but didn’t see any more hands. Most had gone down after the last question, which meant he had to rebuild more than the bank’s reputation. He had his own to consider.
* * *
AFTER ADAM’S PROPOSAL from Foster Community, there was another rival branch manager who stood to offer assistance. But Megs noted that it didn’t come close to what Adam had offered. There was no talk of a community fund with matching contributions. Or lower interest rates.
Maybe Adam had changed. Megs shook her head. She meant the bank had changed. The Sweetheart had been a customer for longer than she’d been alive, so it had been a no-brainer to keep the accounts there as they were before Grammy died. And though she hadn’t been affected by the foreclosures, she knew many of her customers who had been. The town’s population had shrunk by almost a quarter during that time. Slowly, it was changing for the better. People were now buying homes that had been sitting empty for years and bringing their money to spend in her shop and others.
She stole a glance down the aisle to where Adam sat listening to the other bank manager. Had he changed from the angry bully she remembered? The one who hurt others to keep everyone at a distance? He turned and found her looking at him. She turned back and tried to keep her focus on the speaker, her cheeks heating at getting caught.
After another hour, the session broke up with Rick assuring everyone that there would be a follow-up next week at the town council meeting. Megs rose to her feet and reached behind her to grab her thick coat. The snow had stopped for now, but the frigid temperatures had returned with a vengeance. She struggled to get the parka over her shoulder when a helping hand intervened. She turned and looked up into Adam’s long thin face. She stammered and cursed her flaming cheeks. “Thanks.”
“I meant what I said up there, Megan. I’m here to help.” He glanced past her, at her sister and Sam, then nodded and left.
Megs turned to Kelly. “What was that about?”
Her sister shrugged. “Sounds as if he wants to help you.”
“I don’t want his kind of help.” But she felt less sure of that than before.
“But you might need him more than what you want.”
Megs noticed him walk up the aisle to the back of the auditorium before getting stopped by several people with questions. He leaned down to hear them better and seemed interested in what they had to say. He seemed so different from the boy who had bullied her and her friends. Less hostile, more willing to help. But could she trust him? She already had two strikes against her with the other banks. What could it hurt to try the third at Foster with Adam?
But to help her case, she’d be sure not to show up with empty hands reaching out.
* * *
WHEN SHE RETURNED HOME, she scoured Grammy’s cookbooks for the best recipe to use for what she had in mind. She needed to tempt Adam with her sweet treats, but it had to be special. Something more would be required than a batch of chocolate-chip cookies if she expected him to hand her a loan for thousands of dollars. It had to require an effort on her part since she was asking for the same thing from him.
Cannolis? She wrinkled her nose. Those always sent the wrong message, especially if it was a gift for the opposite sex.
Strudel? Nah, she didn’t want to come across as flaky as the pastry.
She willed Grammy to direct her hands as she flipped through pages, as if the woman could tell her from the other side what to do about the business. The back door opened, and Kelly breezed in, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Megs gave a smirk but returned her gaze to the cookbook. “Said good-night to Sam?”
Kelly brought her fingers to her face and nodded. “That man sure can kiss.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to take your word on that.” Despite the fact that she’d known Sam longer and perhaps in some ways better, it was her sister’s attention he had snagged. She flipped through more pages and sighed. “So now that you’ve gotten the all-clear on the house, what are you two going to do with it?”
Her sister hung up her bright pink wool pea coat on a peg, then took a seat across the dining room table from her, snatching a cookie from an overflowing plate. “Good question. The will won’t be out of probate for a few more months, so it’s not as if we have to decide right this minute.”
Megs looked up at her. “Do you think you have the money to buy out Sam’s half? Or are you two planning on something more permanent?”
Kelly teased, “Now that I don’t have my paycheck from the bakery, I have even less money than before. And Sam hasn’t mentioned the future lately. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.” She munched on her cookie for a moment before she said, “The best thing would be to sell the place. As much as I hate to say it.”
Megs shook her head. “Sam’s planning a future, all right. And you’re the only one he’s intending to spend it with.”
Kelly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
They both looked around the renovated dining room that now opened into the living room. It would be a shame to have to leave not only their family home, but the beautiful showcase that Kelly and Sam had turned it into. But for them to each get their share of the inheritance, it meant selling would probably be their best option. Kelly frowned. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Crazy meeting tonight, huh? So are you going to finally meet with Adam and discuss that loan?”
“That’s what I’m working on.” She held up the cookbook and pointed to a recipe. “Does he look like a Napoleon kind of person?”
Kelly took the book from her. “He’s too tall. You thinking of buttering him up with one of your pastries?”
“I need him to see that I’m more than just doughnuts and cookies. That I’ve got a head for business as well as baked goods.” She picked up Grammy’s old recipe ledger that now had a warped cover from the water damage. She opened it and with a finger traced the blurry handwriting. The ink had run on certain pages, and she wanted to howl at the loss of not only the recipes but Grammy’s notes. This book was her legacy from the woman who had taught her to cream sugar and sift flour. Her mentor who ate the first piece of her peasant bread and sampled her crème fraîche. She ran a hand down one page. “I keep hoping that something will jump out as the perfect recipe.”
“Like this?” Kelly turned the page around of the cookbook she’d been looking at and pointed to their grandmother’s handwriting. “She wrote that these were perfect for desperate times.”
“I’m not desperate.” At her sister’s doubtful expression, she shook her head. “I’m not. Worse comes to worst, I take the insurance money and start over somewhere else.”
“But then it wouldn’t be the Sweetheart.”
“It would. Just in a different location.” She took the book from her sister. “But it wouldn’t hurt to try. Right?”
She read over the recipe for baci, a small Italian cookie that Grammy recommended dipping in chocolate. It looked easy. Simple but elegant. And she had all the ingredients already. It could work.
At this point, it couldn’t hurt.
* * *
MEGS TOOK THE cream canvas bag from her backseat and carefully placed it over her arm as she shut the door. She glanced up at the bank and took a deep breath to calm the buzzing bees that filled her belly. She could do this. She could go in there and prove to Adam that the Sweetheart deserved that loan. That she could meet the repayment terms without a struggle.
She had to do this.
Another deep breath, and she walked forward. She’d arrived ten minutes before her appointment time, but she hoped that he would see it as a sign of her determination rather than desperation. She opened the front door and allowed Mr. Finney to enter before she followed him inside.
The lobby looked the same as it always did when she brought in the daily deposit, but it felt different today. Ominous. Foreboding? Megs really had to stop reading those regency romance novels for a while. She felt as though she was going off to face the lion in his den, and knowing Adam as she did, it might not be that inaccurate of a description.
She signed in on the clipboard then took a seat to wait her turn, putting the bag at her feet. She glanced inside at the plastic container of baci that rested on top. She’d had Kelly and Sam taste test them before she had filled the container for Adam and his staff. If Kelly’s and Sam’s moans of pleasure had been any indication, she had something special in her arsenal against the bank manager.
Adam’s office door opened, and the man himself stood in the frame. He looked taller, thinner than his high school days, and he wore a tie and suit rather than a letterman’s jacket and worn jeans. It was the look in his eyes that made her pause. The wariness remained there.
“Megan Sweet?” He called her name as if he didn’t know her. As if he’d never hurt her.
She took another deep breath and rose to her feet. Grabbed the handles of the tote bag and brushed past him into his office, trying to ignore the spicy scent wafting from him that hit her nose as she did so. She took the chair in front of his desk and removed the plastic container from her bag and placed it in her lap. Popping open the top, she let the aroma of chocolate fill the tiny office. She removed a napkin with the Sweetheart logo and placed a baci on it before putting it in front of Adam.
He frowned. “What’s this? A bribe already?”
He claimed he’d changed, but he’d just proved that nothing had. He still used words to hurt and belittle. She bristled in her chair and pointed at the pastry. “It’s a treat for you and your staff from the Sweetheart.”
He eyed it, then took it in his hand. She watched as he lifted to his mouth and raised one eyebrow. He chewed it slowly, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick any crumbs left on his lips. He nodded. “Good.”
“This is just a sample of what I can do.” She brought out her recipe ledger and spread it open. “My grandmother not only left me the bakery, but all her time-tested recipes guaranteed to make the Sweetheart a success for years to come. And success means money, which means you and I both profit. See this recipe for True Love’s torte? It’s a hot seller especially around Valentine’s Day, which is just around the corner and...”
Adam held a hand up. “Recipes and products that sell are good.” He paused. “For you, that is. They don’t mean a thing to me or the bank.”
Megs sat back in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankles. She regretted having worn her practical boots rather than the high heels that Kelly had suggested. “Sex sells,” her sister had told her as she pulled out a different outfit from what she currently wore. Maybe she should have worn the low V-neck wrap dress rather than the turtleneck sweater under the wool blazer.
“So that’s it? You’re turning me down already?” She rose to her feet and grasped the handles of the tote bag.
Adam came around the desk and put a hand on her shoulder. “Where are you going? We’re just getting started.”
“I’m not about to sit here and let you mock me. I put up with enough of that when we were teenagers.” She grabbed her coat that she’d draped on the back of the chair. “I have too much to do to waste my time with you.”
Adam left her side and stood in front of the door. “You’re so quick to judge me.”
“You taught me well.”
They glared at each other until he blinked. “I’m not mocking you, Megan. I’m trying to tell you what I’m looking to get from you. While I appreciate you bringing the cookies today, I need more than that to risk the bank’s money on the bakery.” He seemed to rise several inches as he gestured to the chair she’d vacated. “Now, why don’t we sit down and go over what I need?”
She eyed him warily. She didn’t have much choice, did she?
* * *
ADAM BLINKED SEVERAL times before Megan took her seat and placed her coat and bag in the empty chair next to hers. He let out the breath he realized he’d been holding and returned to his seat behind the desk. He pulled out a folder and handed it across to her. She looked up at him with those hazel brown eyes filled with past pain. He knew he’d been responsible of putting that there and had regretted it every day since. “If you look at the first page in your packet, you’ll notice that we will need several documents from you to support your loan application. Tax returns. Profit and loss statements. An accounting of all your assets and liabilities.”
She looked over the list and seemed to grow pale in front of him. He’d heard a lot about her prowess as a baker, but very little about her as a businesswoman. Perhaps she hadn’t had to worry about the business side of things until recently. He was tempted to reach out and put a hand over hers. Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and rested them on the desk. “It sounds a lot worse than it is. Your accountant will have most, if not all, of these documents. I will try to make this as easy on you as possible.”
She peered up at him. “Why?”
“Because I want to help you out.”
“Again, why?”
He cleared his throat. “Listen. I know our past history doesn’t make us friends or anything, but I could be your ally.” Before she could ask again, he barreled on. “Because I want to make up for what happened. Because you didn’t deserve anything I did to you. Or your friend.”
She paused and eyed him again. “If we work together on this loan, I want a couple of ground rules.”
That didn’t sound good. “Okay. Like what?”
She held up one finger. “No talking about the past. Especially about Kenny.” Two fingers. “Nothing to be done or offered out of pity or trying to redeem yourself because of said past.” Three fingers. “And we keep this on a purely professional level.”
“I can agree to those terms. Should we shake on it?” He held his hand out to her.
She stared at it, but kept her hand to herself. “And no touching.”
“You have a lot of rules.” He gave her a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. But the scowl on her face remained, so he put his hand back on the desk. “Fine. No touching.”
She looked back at the document list. “I have some of these items with me. Jack thought I should be prepared for anything.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick binder. “I’m glad I listened to him.”
Was this Jack her boyfriend? He tried to recall anyone with that name in their graduating class but couldn’t come up with a face. And why did the thought of Megan with a boyfriend make his heart sink? Not that she shouldn’t have one, as pretty and as sweet as she was. But the idea didn’t settle well with him.
She flipped through the binder and unsnapped the rings so that she could remove several pages. She handed them across the desk to him, and he stood. “I’ll go make some copies of this for your file. Can I get you anything while I’m out? Coffee? Water?”
“Hot tea, if you have it.” She flipped through the binder some more, then pulled out two more pages. “You may need these, as well.”
So civil. So polite. Adam nodded and took the pages as well as the cookies to the break room with him. He found Eva having her lunch, and held out the container. “Megan Sweet brought treats for the entire staff.”
She chose one and bit into it, closing her eyes as she chewed. “That girl is truly talented.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Lord knows I loved Addy, but her granddaughter is even better at making the bakery run than she was.”
Adam leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You think the Sweetheart would be a good risk?”
Eva finished swallowing her bite and smiled. “Don’t you?”
“I’ve got to make copies.” He held up the pages and walked out of the break room. Why was he already second-guessing Megs’s request for a loan? It wasn’t as if he was using his position to repay her for the past by green-lighting the request. Besides, she probably still had that same backbone that had helped her stand up to him and would use it again to rebuild the business and make it thrive.
He got his copies and returned to his office, handing Megs the originals. She spent several minutes reorganizing the pages back into her binder, and placed it in her bag. She studied the lone piece of paper left in front of her. “I noticed that the document list asks for a business plan.”
He sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Did you come prepared for that, as well?”
“You want it in writing? Rather than me telling you that I sell bread and cookies to the town?” She shook her head. “Because that’s my plan for the business. Not that difficult to figure out.”
He frowned at her. “No, I want a written description of your business, your target consumer as well as a forecast for any future growth. How many employees you have and your labor costs. A budget. I want hard numbers based on the information you gave me here.” He lifted the pages from his desk and waved them in her direction. “A concrete business plan for the Sweetheart.” When she continued to stare at him, he longed to groan. Instead, he put the papers back down. “You do have one, right?”
She stared at her hands. “Only in my head.”
“That’s a great start, Megan.” He watched her until she raised her head to meet his eyes. “If you’d like, I can help you formulate one to go along with your application.”
She stood and grabbed her coat and bag. “No, I think I can figure it out on my own. I don’t need you to do anything but put in the application.” She nodded at him then turned to leave.
He rose to his feet and walked behind her out of the office. “I’ll expect your application soon, then.”
She didn’t say anything but waved at his tellers before leaving the bank.
Well, that didn’t go too badly.
* * *
MEGS WALKED TO her car and opened the back door to put her tote bag in before letting herself into the driver’s seat. Don’t cry. Not here. Leave the parking lot and then you can lose it. She started the car and paused for a moment before putting it in gear.
Once out of the parking lot, she let the tears that had been threatening since walking into Adam’s office fall down her cheeks and drip off her chin unhindered. The fact that she’d had to go to him of all people with hat in hand to ask for money. Then for him to make her feel smaller than an ant because she didn’t have a written business plan. And if she didn’t have Jack for an accountant, she wouldn’t know the first thing about his list of required documents.
She felt like a fool in more than one way.
A fool to assume she had the business sense to run the bakery. If anything, she learned that she still had more to find out. And she felt foolish to imagine she could face him again without feeling like a fifteen-year-old afraid of the big bully. Without remembering Kenny and what it had cost him.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she answered it through the speaker phone on her car.
“How did it go?” Kelly, of course.
“I’m not sure exactly. He needs a written business plan, and I don’t know the first thing about writing one.”
“So we’ll Google it and put one together.”
“And the application is like twenty pages long.” She sniffed. “And it’s Adam Hawkins. I don’t exactly have the best history with him.”
“A lot can change in twelve years.”
She was probably right. Megs was glad she’d made that rule about not bringing up the past. Why rehash it?
Then, why hang on to it?
Okay, her conscience had a good point. Adam seemed to have gotten past all of that, and she needed to, as well. Just bury those memories away. Let it go. Move on. And every other cliché she could think of. “Yup. It’s for the best. Time to forget and—”
Her sister chuckled. “I didn’t say forget. I mean, he was a bully who hurt a lot of people. But he seems to have changed, so that’s all over with.” There was a pause. “Right?”
It was over, all right. Because there was no way that Megs was going to let him humiliate and hurt her or anyone she loved ever again. “Right, Kel.” Her phone buzzed, and she checked the caller ID on her car’s console. “That’s Mom. I’ll be home in about ten minutes.”
She switched the call using the buttons on her steering wheel and took several deep breaths. Talking to her mother was easier now that they had established a relationship as adults, but she couldn’t forget the abandonment. “Hi, Mom. Where are you today?”
Her mom chuckled. “Megs, I’m not exactly a globe trotter. Still in Florida, though Stan is talking about moving on to Arizona where it’s drier. Better for his asthma.”
Megs frowned. “Stan? I thought you were with Michael.”
“His kids didn’t like me much, so there you are.” Her mom was suddenly silent on the other end. “Listen, sweetie, I heard about the Sweetheart. Are you going to be okay?”
How? Lake Mildred, Michigan, was a long ways from Florida, but obviously the local grapevine extended that far south. “I’ll be fine. I met with the bank manager to discuss getting a loan to rebuild the bakery.”
“Can you afford that?”
“I can’t afford not to.” Because the option of doing nothing was unthinkable. “Unless you have some money you could lend me.”
Her mom laughed, but it sounded false. “Oh, sure. Let me send you a check for twenty thousand. Will that work?” Another pause. “You know if I had anything, I’d be the first to be sure you had enough.”
Her mom had never been one she could depend on in a crisis. She’d always turned to her dad, then Grammy after he’d died. They’d been the steady, strong ones in her life. Not her mother. “Thanks anyway, Mom.” Megs turned down the street where she lived. “I’m almost home, so I’ve got to go. Have fun with Stan.”
“Oh, I will.” Then her mother was gone.
Megs ended the call by pressing a button and gripped the steering wheel. It was time to start depending on herself. Time to do something different. Be something different. She could be strong on her own. Do it all herself.
But first, she’d have to research what a written business plan required.
