“Cash seems to work just fine.”
She shook her head incredulously. “You pay all your bills with cash?”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Yes. You have a problem with that?”
She frowned at his sharp, defensive tone. “It’s just that you’d save so much time if you just wrote a check and dropped the bill into the mail instead of running all over town settling up with everyone.”
Slowly, he stood, towering over her. He held her gaze with challenge and the simmering heat of anger. Very quietly, he said, “If you don’t like my method, then
Two days later Megan pulled into the parking lot of the town’s only bank, the Linden Trust and Loan, still pondering Kane’s angry reaction to her suggestion of a joint checking account. She had no intention of taking over his finances, and had told him as much. Her reassurance had been met with a scowl before Andrew had interrupted the heated moment.
Sighing heavily, she parked the car in an empty stall and turned off the ignition. Her husband’s erratic behavior bewildered and intrigued her. Tender and teasing one moment, cool and distant the next, all because of a stupid checking account.
It wasn’t as though she planned to spend his money frivolously, she thought, exiting the car and starting toward the red brick building. She was a saver by nature and thought a joint checking account might simplify their finances.
Yet he’d never had a checking account and only dealt with cash, which she thought as odd in today’s high-tech world of bank machines and credit-card checking. But when she’d questioned him on his uncommon practice, he’d been defensive and unwilling to compromise, acting as though her suggestion threatened his entire way of life. Not wanting to allow something that trivial to drive a wedge between them, she’d let it drop.
When they’d arrived home from church that afternoon, alone since Andrew was at the Lindens, he’d pulled her into his arms and had kissed her with a passionate urgency that melted the tension between them. He was a proud man, and she supposed that had been his way of silently apologizing, which she’d accepted with her own acquiescence.
He was good at that, she mused, making her forget everything but what he did to her. Although she admitted it was a pleasant way to make up, nothing was resolved afterward.
Shaking off her thoughts, she entered the bank. The financial institution was small, with three teller windows- two currently in use-a section for loans and new accounts and a sitting area for customers. The place was decorated in warm rust tones with greenery for accents.
She headed toward the pretty brunette sitting behind the new accounts desk. A gold name tag on her dress proclaimed her Debbie Davis, Accounts Manager.
The young woman smiled congenially. “Welcome to Linden Trust and Loan,” she recited. “How may I help your?”
Before Megan could respond, the phone on the desk buzzed and a female voice said, “Debbie, Ms. Peterson is on line one about her trust account.”
Debbie gave Megan an apologetic look. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just a minute,” she said, picking up the line.
Megan nodded her understanding and stepped away from the desk to give the accounts manager some privacy with her customer. Her gaze glanced by the only two offices in the bank and skittered back. She read the gold nameplates beside the doors. Jack Hamilton, Vice President His office light was off. Moving on to the next office, she smiled. Harold Linden, President. His light was on.
While Debbie argued with the woman on the phone about the eligibility requirements of her trust account, Megan strolled a few feet away until she could verify that. Harold was in his office. He was. She caught a profile of him as he leaned back in a leather executive chair, a pair of glasses perched on his nose as he read a document in his hand. She moved toward Debbie’s desk, an idea taking shape.
The woman hung up the phone and clasped her hands on the desk, giving Megan her undivided attention. “Now, where were we?”
“You were asking how you could help me.” Megan kept her face expressionless. “I’m here to see Mr. Linden.”
Debbie looked momentarily confused. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I’m sure he’ll see me.” Megan wished she felt as confident as she sounded. What if he refused to see her? Worse, what if he ordered her out of the bank? No, she’d expect that kind of behavior from Patricia, but Harold seemed more reasonable.
The young woman frowned, the first stirring of skepticism entering her gaze. “And you are?”
“Megan. Megan Fielding.”
Debbie’s hazel eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed, as if to say,
Megan understood the employee’s protectiveness toward her boss, but she only wanted to talk to Harold without the ominous presence of his wife to influence him. If he would see her. She could barge into his office, but she didn’t want to make a scene. Besides, that wasn’t her style. Whatever the rift between the Lindens and Kane, she wanted to try to settle it civilly.
It didn’t matter that Kane would be furious with her for interfering.
Megan smiled patiently and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Unless that’s his twin I saw sitting at his desk, I’d say he’s in.”
Debbie looked decidedly frazzled. She picked up the phone and pressed three digits. “Mr. Linden, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a Megan Fielding here to see you.”
Megan heard the echo of Harold’s voice drifting from his office but couldn’t decipher what he’d said. She found out as soon as Debbie hung up the receiver.
The accounts manager pointed beyond Megan. “He said he’ll see you. His office is that way.”
Harold met her at the door to his office, subdued interest playing over his features. He wore a stylish gray pin- striped suit and a paisley print tie. Despite his age and thinning gray hair, Megan thought he was a very handsome man.
“Mrs. Fielding,” he acknowledged politely, looking as though the name brought memories that pained him.
“Megan, please,” she said, wanting to dispense with formalities.
He smiled gratefully, and she could see kindness in his eyes. “Megan, what can I do for you?”
“I’d like to open a checking account.”
He lifted a gray brow. “Debbie would be happy to help you.”
Megan wasn’t about to be deterred. All she needed was a few moments alone with Harold, to see if there was any chance of a reconciliation between him and his wife and Kane. “I have a substantial amount of money to transfer, and I’d feel more secure dealing with you.” She nearly cringed at her pathetic excuse.
A faint smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “I know having the title of president sounds impressive, but in reality I depend on my employees to run my bank smoothly and efficiently. I could fumble, my way through all the paperwork for your new checking account and transfers, but the fact is, Debbie is far more adept at the procedure than I am.”
Megan blew out an exasperated breath. “All right, I’ll save the accounts for Debbie, but I’d like to talk to you about Kane and Andrew.”
He didn’t seem surprised, and more important, he didn’t turn her away. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”
“Thank you.” She entered his office, and he closed the door on the gawking patrons and employees.
Sitting in one of the wing chairs in front of his desk, she inhaled the scent of leather and pipe tobacco. Harold settled into his chair behind his mahogany desk, the smooth surface cluttered with files and reports. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say.
Harold broke the ice. “Belated congratulations on your marriage to Kane.”
His genuine sentiment surprised her. “Doesn’t my marrying Kane bother you?”
He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ll admit I was shocked by the news, as most of us were, but Andrew thinks very highly of you, and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. His welfare is my first concern.”
