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“It's just that I—” With a defeated sigh, she’d already seen the stain anyway, I placed the folder on her desk. "My dad recently died,” at this, her gaze softened, “and I was going through some of his stuff.” Pushing my hair from my face, I pulled out the papers I’d discovered and slid it towards her. “I found this."
She picked it up with a curious look, her eyes scanning the text.
It was a letter welcoming him to the company, along with an account number, and an incredibly high dollar balance. The OV logo on the letter had a small, actual magnolia flower embedded into it. A business card was attached, with this address.
I hadn’t been able to find anything about them on the internet and wasn't even sure if they would still be here.
Discovering the letter had filled me with a hope that I was almost afraid to feel. Surely, Terrance would’ve told me about the money. But, what if…what if he hadn’t known about it for some reason? The paperwork was in a secret room. Maybe my dad had kept it hidden.
As the woman, Luxury Fortwright—stated in bold script on her gold name plate, considered the papers, I waited patiently, my heart fluttering. I looked around the room, noting there were no tellers, no other offices or desks. Just a large and impressive modern space, filled with bronze sculptures and a sleek, black reflective water feature.
"I see," she finally responded, sliding the paper back towards me, her red lipsticked lips pressed together in a firm line. “And you would like to know…”
“If he had some kind of account here? Can you look up that account number?”
“Of course.” Gold earrings jangled as she typed on a sleek tablet. It took only a second before she frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry. It looks like he closed this account about seven months ago.” Shortly after he got his diagnosis.
Distress speared through me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, hon.” She pat my hand, sighing. “I wish I could tell you something different. I’m sure it would be nice to have that kind of money.”
I frowned, biting down on my lip, my eyes burning. I had hoped… “Well,” I collected the papers, “Is there any way—I mean, maybe they could give me a loan?” I was sure, after every other bank had denied me, that they wouldn’t. Especially not a fancy bank like this. But it didn’t hurt to ask.
It took her a long moment to respond, her eyes studying me. Then finally, “Are you sure about this?”
I stared at her blankly, then suspiciously. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s just that,” she paused, her eyes sliding to her phone, her finger tapping the desk. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but this isn't the kind of place where you'd want to borrow money."
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means, honey,” she met my gaze, “that the interest rates in this place aren’t the kind of rates you’d want to pay. If you know what I’m getting at. They’re predators.”
I thought of the loan officer. How I’d taken my shirt off for him. Allowed him to touch me.
Then I thought of Callie and how she’d jumped into my father’s grave. How Benson had grown up at our house, just like we did. And now he had?—
Selling the house would kill them.
If she meant what I thought she meant, I’d already offered myself up once. I would do it again. I set my shoulders determinedly. “Please, if you would. I would like to apply.”
“Okay,” she sighed, shaking her head. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Let me see what I can do for you." She tapped on the tablet and I fiddled with my hair and dress, trying to smooth it out while I waited.
"Here," she passed a white cloth at me, eyeing the coffee stain, "this might help. I spill my coffee all the time. It's like a magnet to white shirts.” Her soft smile made me feel a little bit better, though my stomach was churning again.
I blotted at it, surprised at how well it was working. “You must be a witch, because this is magic.”
She belted out a surprised laugh. It was rich and full. “Well that’s not the first time I’ve ever been called a witch but I certainly wasn’t expecting it from you.”
“Oh, I…I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m teasing,” she winked, then extended her hand, standing, “I’m Luxury, but you can call me Lux. The board is meeting today, and they've just finished up. They have time to meet with you."
"The board?" I stared after her as she strode towards the back of the room, her heels clicking on the dark marble floor.
