was going to kick them out on their butts, she'd rather it were sooner than later. Still in a breezy tone, she said, "We have absolutely no problem generating enough income for the day-to-day running of the business."
The statement made Corinne's eyes pop open, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
Laura crossed one leg over the other, batted her eyes at the man, and gave him a hint of an ironic smile.
He knew why they were there, obviously, and he was waiting for them to beg. Well, too bad. She'd rather show him her knees than fall on them.
She continued. "There's just one thing that we haven't quite got on top of yet."
"The loan from Great River Finance?"
Aha! So he was aware of it. She knew it: he was in cahoots with them.
"How did you know about the loan?" Corinne blurted.
Barclay didn't flinch. In fact, his smile seemed completely sympathetic, which Laura also found annoying.
"Can I speak candidly?" he asked.
Corinne nodded almost violently, and he said, "Great River is what's known in the bank business as a predatory lender. We were aware a few years ago that they were going literally from door to door on properties that—I'll be frank—looked as if they could use cash. They offered easy credit but brutal terms.
"Since that time, several properties in the area have defaulted and have had their loans called in. A couple of the owners have come to us to bail them out; but one or two of them just gave up and surrendered their holdings. I wish they hadn't," he added.
I'll bet, thought Laura. "And yet," she said grimly, "you denied my father a loan when he came to you for one."
Barclay leaned back in his chair and locked his blue gaze on hers. "Yes. I did. I had no choice. Your father refused to have his property appraised, a formality that was required for any loan to be approved."
"Why would he refuse something like that?" asked Corinne, dumbfounded.
Barclay shrugged with his eyebrows. "He was offended that I even dared ask, I think. He lit into me and then stormed out of here."
"My father? Not possible," Laura said dryly.
Barclay's tone was just as dry as he said, "My assistant remembers the day not fondly, but well. As do the tellers. And the security guard."
"I'm sorry," said poor Corinne, bowing her head.
He laughed softly and said, "Good Lord, why? You're not the one who threatened to blow up the bank and teach us all a lesson."
Corinne sucked in her breath. "He didn't."
But Laura could easily imagine the scene; she had faced the withering blast of her father's temper too many times to be shocked by it. "I'm surprised you didn't have him thrown in jail," she said evenly.
"Oh, I admit I considered it," Barclay said, leaning back a little farther and tapping his fingers on his grand mahogany desk.
He was watching her now, assessing her as carefully as she was him. Their gazes locked. They were in some kind of contest, but Laura had no idea how the game was played or what the prize for winning was. She tried not to notice his square chin, or the faint shadow of his beard, or the way his dark hair threatened to go unruly if he gave it the chance. She tried to see a heartless snob, but all she could see was a rock-solid and very sexy man.
Over a galloping pulse, she said, "You considered having him arrested—but?"
"He was a Shore," Barclay said simply.
Laura started to say something, then saw her sister's warning look and stopped herself.
Ever so briefly. "Ye s , well, I remember your father," she blurted, picturing the aloof banker as he cut various ribbons at various town functions. " He would've called the cops in a heartbeat."
"You may be right. But I'm not my father."
"I can see that. Let me just get this straight. You didn't give my father a loan although he was a Shore, but you didn't have him arrested because he was a Shore."
" That's right. Make sense?"
"None at all."
"What can I say?" he said with a sigh. "I try."
"I'm sorry," she said in stiff apology. "I suppose I
The statement made Corinne's eyes pop open, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
Laura crossed one leg over the other, batted her eyes at the man, and gave him a hint of an ironic smile.
He knew why they were there, obviously, and he was waiting for them to beg. Well, too bad. She'd rather show him her knees than fall on them.
She continued. "There's just one thing that we haven't quite got on top of yet."
"The loan from Great River Finance?"
Aha! So he was aware of it. She knew it: he was in cahoots with them.
"How did you know about the loan?" Corinne blurted.
Barclay didn't flinch. In fact, his smile seemed completely sympathetic, which Laura also found annoying.
"Can I speak candidly?" he asked.
Corinne nodded almost violently, and he said, "Great River is what's known in the bank business as a predatory lender. We were aware a few years ago that they were going literally from door to door on properties that—I'll be frank—looked as if they could use cash. They offered easy credit but brutal terms.
"Since that time, several properties in the area have defaulted and have had their loans called in. A couple of the owners have come to us to bail them out; but one or two of them just gave up and surrendered their holdings. I wish they hadn't," he added.
I'll bet, thought Laura. "And yet," she said grimly, "you denied my father a loan when he came to you for one."
Barclay leaned back in his chair and locked his blue gaze on hers. "Yes. I did. I had no choice. Your father refused to have his property appraised, a formality that was required for any loan to be approved."
"Why would he refuse something like that?" asked Corinne, dumbfounded.
Barclay shrugged with his eyebrows. "He was offended that I even dared ask, I think. He lit into me and then stormed out of here."
"My father? Not possible," Laura said dryly.
Barclay's tone was just as dry as he said, "My assistant remembers the day not fondly, but well. As do the tellers. And the security guard."
"I'm sorry," said poor Corinne, bowing her head.
He laughed softly and said, "Good Lord, why? You're not the one who threatened to blow up the bank and teach us all a lesson."
Corinne sucked in her breath. "He didn't."
But Laura could easily imagine the scene; she had faced the withering blast of her father's temper too many times to be shocked by it. "I'm surprised you didn't have him thrown in jail," she said evenly.
"Oh, I admit I considered it," Barclay said, leaning back a little farther and tapping his fingers on his grand mahogany desk.
He was watching her now, assessing her as carefully as she was him. Their gazes locked. They were in some kind of contest, but Laura had no idea how the game was played or what the prize for winning was. She tried not to notice his square chin, or the faint shadow of his beard, or the way his dark hair threatened to go unruly if he gave it the chance. She tried to see a heartless snob, but all she could see was a rock-solid and very sexy man.
Over a galloping pulse, she said, "You considered having him arrested—but?"
"He was a Shore," Barclay said simply.
Laura started to say something, then saw her sister's warning look and stopped herself.
Ever so briefly. "Ye s , well, I remember your father," she blurted, picturing the aloof banker as he cut various ribbons at various town functions. " He would've called the cops in a heartbeat."
"You may be right. But I'm not my father."
"I can see that. Let me just get this straight. You didn't give my father a loan although he was a Shore, but you didn't have him arrested because he was a Shore."
" That's right. Make sense?"
"None at all."
"What can I say?" he said with a sigh. "I try."
"I'm sorry," she said in stiff apology. "I suppose I
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