Dakota Born by Debbie Macomber Page B

him into a banking executive, no matter how unsuited she felt he was for the job. She’d started him at the bottom, working him at each position until he’d satisfactorily proven himself.
    The first time Heath saw Buffalo Valley, he’d thought it was a joke. Surely there’d been some mistake. The old woman couldn’t possibly expect him to commute three days a week to this godforsaken place! But that was exactly what she’d expected. For twelve months now, he’d been doing his penance.
    The town was in the last throes of death, a death that would have been inevitable if the Snyder woman hadn’t agreed to step in as teacher. When he’d heard the news, Heath hadn’t known whether to cheer or weep.
    The message from his grandmother weighed heavily on Heath’s mind as the day progressed. He found himself second-guessing the reason. He reviewed his files, wondering what he’d done now to displease her. He couldn’t come up with any questionable decisions he’d made, any meetings he’d forgotten or deadlines he’d missed. He might not want to be a banker, but he was perfectly adequate. His skills were instinctive, and he’d proven himself at every turn. Or so he thought.
    His grandparents had founded Buffalo County Bank, and his father had taken over the leadership, joining his grandmother after his grandfather’s death. Then, during Heath’s last year of college, his parents had died within six months of each other. His father had suffered a heart attack, and his mother, who’d battled cancer for years, succumbed to it a few months later. With the highway accident that had claimed Max, Heath and his grandmother were all that remained of the Quantrill family.
    Traffic inside the bank had been slow all day, but then it was most days. He called Brandon Wyatt to tell him he could stop in to sign the papers later that week. By four, he was on the road toward Grand Forks and the retirement center where his grandmother lived.
    â€œIt’s about time you got here,” she muttered from her wheelchair the minute he walked into her suite.
    â€œI’m happy to see you, too, Grandma.” Grinning, he bent down to kiss her cheek. Lily was eighty-five, and Heath swore she’d outlive him.
    â€œSit down,” she ordered.
    Another day he might have stood and enjoyed the breathtaking view of the Red River from her tenth-floor apartment, just to spite her. But he was curious about her mood and complied rather than press the issue. He trained his gaze on the water, mentally preparing himself for a tongue-lashing.
    â€œDo you remember Rachel Fischer?”
    Heath had to stop and think. The name was vaguely familiar.
    â€œShe came into the bank for a loan recently,” his grandmother added.
    â€œOh, yes.” Heath nodded. He did remember. “The widow. She wanted twenty-five hundred dollars for a pizza oven.”
    â€œThat’s correct.”
    â€œHer parents owned the old café.” As he recalled from the paperwork, the Morningside Café had been closed for three years. The place, now boarded up, was an eyesore on Main Street—one of many.
    â€œDo you happen to remember what Rachel intended to do with that pizza oven?”
    He raised an eyebrow at her question.
    â€œShe told me she wanted to start a pizza restaurant that’d be open on weekends for pick-up and in-town delivery.” He recalled that, at the council meeting, Joshua had mentioned the possibility of Rachel’s new business. Naturally he couldn’t say anything about rejecting the loan.
    â€œA pizza restaurant,” Lily repeated.
    Heath studied his grandmother. Her voice was calm, as if she were laying a trap for him. But he knew he’d made the right decision in rejecting Rachel Fischer’s application. The woman, a widow with a ten-year-old son, had nothing in the way of collateral. Twenty-five hundred dollars might not sound like a