AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘If you’ve read my file, you know I do have some capital left in the stock market. I don’t need to sell it, because I’ll have enough funds shortly to significantly reduce the loan when my Sydney property sells. My old loans manager agreed to defer my principal paymentsuntil the property settled, so I don’t know why you’re seeing fit to give me a grilling, Ali—’ Stuff it. She’d ‘mistered’ him, hadn’t she? ‘Ms Pickard,’ he finished.
She flicked open a manila folder on her desk and made a note. From upside down it looked like meaningless scribble. Maybe it was. Maybe she was just trying to freak him out.
‘Sydney have passed control of your loan over to me, so I’ll be conducting your reviews from now until you get your loan back out of the red zone.’
‘Can’t wait.’
She gave him a smile that could have frozen vodka. ‘But today is not review day, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Mr Miles.’
Here goes nothing. ‘The cottages I’m using for my farmstay operation are in and the renovation work is about to start. I want to ensure they’re covered on my insurance policy which’—he gave her his version of a frozen smile—‘the bank requires as per the terms of my loan. Just keeping you in the loop, Ms Pickard.’
She turned back to her screen and tapped at her keyboard like a karate instructor chopping through terracotta tiles at the world championships. ‘Three weatherboard dwellings, new stumps, no alarms fitted, no deadbolts. Is that correct?’
‘The cottages are in Clarence. No-one has deadbolts and alarms.’ Besides, some of them didn’t even have glass in the windows at this point.
Chop-chop-chop, went her fingers. ‘Poor security adds to the policy.’
He sighed. ‘There’s a security dog on the premises.’ About as useful as a loofah, but still.
‘Hmm,’ she muttered. ‘Three houses will be costly to insure.’
‘They’re not houses as such. They’re tiny, more like cabins.’
She looked up. ‘I’ll call the bank’s valuer. He can come out to the farm and assess them. Anything else the bank may need to know about?’
He tried to think about all that had happened on Wirraway Farm since he’d bought it. He’d installed hundreds of metres of irrigation pipe, water pumps, a few hundred avocado plants, but he wasn’t insuring those—the budget had to hit the brakes somewhere.
There was, of course, the small matter of the war relic … but something about Ms Pickard’s beady-eyed stare put him off telling her.
The bank probably did need to know about the plane … after all, he’d signed a personal guarantee on his loan. Everything he owned the bank could take. But he’d offered Kirsty time to find out more about her great-grandfather’s history.
If she took up his offer and helped him out with his farmstay renovations? Then sure, the plane could remain their little secret for a while.
If she didn’t … Well, maybe then he’d be looking a little harder into how to turn that plane into a windfall.
