Sweet redemption

When he returns to his Michigan town, Adam Hawkins doesn’t expect everyone to just forgive and forget, especially Megan Sweet. But when a killer snowstorm destroys buildings and businesses, including Megan’s family-owned bakery, it’s his chance to make amends. Now a bank manager, Adam has the power to make things happen. His ideas go way beyond rebuilding his community and mentoring high school kids. He wants to make it up to Megan, who’s carrying her own guilt about their shared past. What will it take for Adam to show her that he’s a changed man who’s ready to rebuild their lives—together?

Megan reached out and put a mittened hand on Adam’s cheek.

“I think we’re making progress, don’t you?” she asked.

Adam placed his hand on hers and removed it from his face. She cursed her impulse to touch him, breaking her own rules. She tucked her hands in her lap while he closed the passenger door and walked around the truck to get in on the other side. He started the engine and turned in the seat to look at her. “Megan, I appreciate you trying to make inroads for me in the community.”

She grinned. “Maybe you deserve a second chance.”

“Maybe?” He raised one eyebrow then cracked a smile.

“I’ve discovered that you really have changed from that bully I remember. You’ve become a good man.”

“Don’t glamorize it. I’m far from good.” He put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb, steering back toward the bank.

“You’re working hard to make amends. Isn’t that what a good man would do?”

Dear Reader,

Bullying seems to be a hot topic right now, although that behavior has been around for years. I was bullied in fourth grade. It never got physical, but the verbal taunts made me feel as if I’d been punched. It affected my self-esteem as well as my physical well-being, and I missed a lot of school days due to stomach issues that year. I was grateful when my bully graduated into middle school the following term.

The issue of bullying plays into Megs’s and Adam’s lives in this story. Megs lost a friend because of bullying, and she blames herself for what happened. The what-ifs haunt her. What if she had stood up to the bully sooner? But what if she had stayed silent? Adam was a bully in high school who is now back in his hometown to hopefully make up for his past. He has learned to be a better man, but the specter of his bullying past follows him still. Theirs is a compelling romance.

My hope is that my story will spark conversations about bullying and how to protect our children and that it will shed some light on this issue from several different points of view.

Syndi

The Sweetheart Deal

Syndi Powell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SYNDI POWELL started writing stories when she was young and has made it a lifelong pursuit. She’s been reading Mills & Boon romance novels since she was in her teens and is thrilled to be on the Mills & Boon team. She loves to connect with readers on Twitter, @syndipowell, or on her Facebook author page, Facebook.com/syndipowellauthor.

This book is dedicated to my nieces and nephews: Sam, Jack, Page and Penny Hartman; and Shelby, Megan and Zach Skrzypczak. Thank you for making me feel like a supercool rock star every time I come over to see you. Crazy Aunt Syndi loves you all. And if I haven’t written “your” story, don’t worry. It’s coming.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

MEGAN SWEET RAN down the sidewalk past the shops on Lincoln Street and opened the door to the Sweetheart bakery. Stepping inside, she took a deep breath and savored for a moment the scents of yeast and sugar that filled the air. Grammy stood behind the counter refilling the glass display case with cookies. She glanced up at Megs and paused in her work. “Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Megs shook her head, unable to put into words the mix of emotions that flooded her heart. “Kenny, he’s...” She hung her head and closed her eyes. “Grammy, he’s dead.”

Grammy came around the counter and enveloped her in a tight hug. Megs rested her head against her grandmother’s ample chest and felt the first tears start to leak from her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d heard yet.” Grammy stroked her hair. “Are you okay?”

Megs raised her head and stared into Grammy’s hazel-brown eyes, much like her own. “How can I be? He was my best friend. And now he’s gone. What am I going to do?”

The front door opened, and two customers walked in. Grammy greeted them, then escorted Megs into the kitchen. She pulled out a stool and motioned to Megs to sit down. “I’ll help these ladies, then I’ll be right back.”

Megs hopped up on the stool and stared at her hands folded in her lap. She should have kept her mouth shut. She should have let the bully say and do what he wanted. But no, she’d had to stand up to him, and now Kenny was dead.

The swinging doors opened, and Grammy stepped into the kitchen. Megs expected her to talk, to assure her that everything would be okay. Instead, she pulled out an old recipe ledger and flipped through the pages. She finally settled on a page and pointed it out to Megs. “Here we are. This cookie helps to soothe a worried soul.” Grammy chose an apron from a shelf and tossed it at Megs. “Put it on. You’re going to make these on your own.”

Megs raised an eyebrow at this. She’d helped her grandmother make cookies before, but it had never been suggested that she bake them solo. She slipped the apron over her head, then wound the strings around her waist before tying them in front. “But I don’t know this recipe.”

“You can’t always rely on what you know.” Grammy nudged the ledger toward her. “Follow the recipe. Trust in yourself. It will guide you.”

She started to gather the ingredients: flour, sugar, butter and eggs. And the tin of dark cocoa. Megs lifted the lid and took a deep breath. Ambrosia.

As Grammy watched, she carefully measured and sifted, creamed and mixed. She referred back to the ledger when she doubted the next step, and later suppressed a smile when the dough formed into a ball exactly like it should. She glanced at her grandmother, who beamed at her. “You’re a natural, Megs. Like me.”

The next step was to let the dough firm up in the refrigerator for a half hour, so Megs put the mixing bowl in the walk-in cooler and returned to the warm kitchen. Grammy held out a mug of tea to her. “I know that Kenny’s death doesn’t make sense. Suicide never does. But he’ll always have a special place in your heart. And as long as you hold on to that, at least he can live on in your memories.”

Megs cupped her hands around the mug and let the warmth extend down her fingers toward her arms. “I’m afraid that I wasn’t a very good friend to him lately.”

Grammy wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her tight. “I doubt that. You’re the best friend any person could ask for.” She tweaked the end of her nose. “After all, you’re the best granddaughter. One of them, at least.”

When the half hour was over, Megs rolled out the dough, then used a knife to cut it into strips. She twisted them into shapes before placing them on a buttered cookie sheet, then slipped them into the oven. She leaned against the marble worktable and crossed her arms over her chest. “Will it ever stop hurting like this?”

Grammy nodded. “One day, it won’t hurt as much. But you’ll always miss him.” She gave a soft smile. “I still miss your grandfather. And your dad.”

“Me, too.”

“But the pain’s gotten easier, isn’t that right?” She put a hand on Megs’s shoulder. “It will be the same with Kenny.”

When the timer went off, Megs used a pot holder to bring out the sheet of twists and placed it on the counter. She grabbed a metal spatula to hold out one of the cookies. Grammy took it and bit into it. Megs watched as she chewed, then relaxed when she smiled.

“You did good.” Grammy finished the cookie and peered at Megs. “One day, this place will belong to you. All my recipes and the business, too. And you will learn to feed people’s souls as well as their bodies. Just like me.”

At that moment, there was nothing Megs wanted more.

CHAPTER ONE

MEGS RESTED HER hand on the old recipe ledger, missing Grammy even more today than ever before. Had it really been four months already since she had died? It didn’t seem possible.

She shook off her grief and glanced at the clock. It was a little after four in the morning, her favorite time of the day, just before her employees arrived, when the bakery she had inherited belonged to her alone. She flipped through the pages of the ledger, looking for the right recipe. She needed something special. Something that would shake the dark foreboding that sat heavily on her shoulders.

With the radio blaring, Megs sang along as she creamed the butter and sugar. A strange sound made her look up, but only for a moment. Then she was sifting the flour into the butter mixture, beating the silver cup with the side of her hand.

Though many of her customers loved their standbys, she liked to introduce new items every once in a while. Sometimes to good reviews, others to less than stellar. Hopefully, these butter cookies would inspire new beginnings just like Grammy had promised in the ledger.

Another weird groan came from above her, then a crack as if ice were breaking. She glanced at the ceiling and frowned. One fleeting thought sprang to mind: Get under the table. She hugged the ledger to her chest and scooted beneath the worktable just before the roof gave way.

* * *

COLD. SO COLD. Megs peeked from under the table and saw chunks of ice and snow amid roof shingles and splintered wood littering the floor of the kitchen. She remained where she was, however, unsure of whether there would be more falling debris. She hoped not. She hoped this didn’t mean the end of the Sweetheart.

Megs tried not to cry. Would someone hear her if she did? She called out, but it was so early. Who else was up this early? “Help!” she hollered again. “I’m under here!” Only silence followed. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans, but she’d left her phone in her jacket, which was across the room. Out of reach.

Minutes passed. How long had she been under here? She wasn’t sure anymore. It felt like hours, but it couldn’t be. Didn’t matter, her back was cramping badly. Shivers raced down her spine. Staying here for much longer wasn’t an option. She tested her feet, her legs, her arms. Mentally checking if she was all right. She seemed to be. She could be grateful for that at least.

Grateful? How could she—

Was that...

The sirens of the fire trucks and police cars already. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, clutching the ledger tighter to her chest. “They’re coming. Everything will be fine now.”

Oh, how she wanted to believe those words.

* * *

ADAM HAWKINS’S PHONE rang twice before he had reached the bank. Because of the precarious conditions of the roads, he ignored it and continued on his way. He needed to get in early so he could get the sidewalks shoveled before customers arrived. He’d already called to ensure the plows had reached his parking lot, but the sidewalks were his responsibility. Welcome to small-town Northern Michigan.

As much as he hated to admit it, returning to his hometown as bank manager was pretty gratifying. The people in town hadn’t thought he’d grow up to be much more than a thug, but he’d shown them. He’d become respectable, even wore a suit and tie. A man that his father should be proud of.

Not that anyone seemed to have noticed the internal change in him. Not even his parents, who lived in the same town, but still refused to see him. They still saw the bully, though dressed in a suit. He pulled into the bank parking lot near the back, grabbed the shovel he’d stowed in the bed of his truck and walked carefully to the snow mounded on the sidewalks. Within minutes, he had a square foot of cement cleaned off and felt ready to quit and hire someone else to shovel the rest. Despite the deceptive white fluffy appearance, the snow was wet and heavy. His heart thumped loudly in his chest and his arms ached. Still, only thirty minutes remained until his employees would show, then another thirty for his first customers.

Another car belonging to his teller Eva Stone arrived at the parking lot. When she got out of her car, she looked as though she had dressed for Alaska. She was wearing a thick parka with a hood fringed with faux fur, two scarves wound around her neck and fat mittens on her hands. She approached him slowly, carrying a shovel. She leaned back to look up into his face since she only reached halfway to his shoulder. “Did you hear about the roofs collapsing downtown?”

Leave it to one of his employees to have the latest scoop. “What roofs?”

“Several businesses on Lincoln are gone.” She shook her head then started to shovel small loads of snow. “It’s too bad about the Sweetheart.”

Adam stared across the parking lot toward town. Megan, the baker, was a client of the bank’s both professionally and personally. He wondered if she was okay, then reminded himself that she seemed to want nothing to do with him since his return to Lake Mildred. When he ordered pastries for the staff meetings, her sister or another employee delivered them. The night he had stopped in to the bakery himself, she’d stayed in the kitchen for his entire visit until he’d left with his bread. And she never came by his office at the bank when she made her deposits. “Yes, too bad. What other businesses?”

“Will wasn’t sure of the extent of the damage, but it’s huge.” She pushed the snow to the edge of the curb and leaned on her shovel. “The apartments, too. Lot of people homeless this morning.”

Adam put his hand on Eva’s shoulder. “You don’t have to shovel the snow. I can take care of this.”

“You saying I can’t?”

The spark in her eyes made him wince. “No!” He cleared his throat and started over. “Once we get the snow cleared from the front door, I’d like you to get the branch ready for the day. Coffee brewed, hot water for tea. We’re sure to have a lot of visitors today.”

“I can shovel snow, too. I’m not an invalid.”

He’d seen proof of that himself. He held up a hand. “Didn’t say you were.”

“Despite what my son says...” She continued to shovel the snow, and together they cleared a path to the door. She paused as Adam unlocked the front doors. Once opened, she disappeared inside. He glanced around the parking lot, then bent his head and continued shoveling the sidewalk.

Finally finished, he shook the snow off himself, then entered the branch. He sniffed appreciatively and walked through the lobby, down the hall to the staff room. Eva turned and handed him a cup of hot coffee. “Black, two sugars.”

“You’re too good to me, Eva.”

“Someone has to take care of you bachelors.” She took a sip of her own tea, then nodded to the thermoses on the counter. “I made extra if you want to deliver them to the emergency workers downtown. I’m sure they could use a hot drink right about now. Do wonders for the bank’s image, no?”

Adam nodded. When he’d taken the branch manager position, he’d inherited a mess both financially and publicly. The previous manager had been responsible for foreclosing on many homes in the area, known for his tough stance rather than his compassion. Adam’s district manager had warned him what he was walking into. Add that to his own past problems with the residents, and Eva was right. Giving out coffee would be only the beginning of what he needed to do. “I’ll drop them off as soon as Sandy arrives. Great idea, Eva.”

She tapped her head. “Got a bunch of them locked up here.”

Later that morning, Adam bundled up and once again trekked out into the frigid landscape. He carried the two thermoses and a plastic bag full of cups, stirrers and packets of cream and sugar. When he reached the corner of Main and Lincoln, he paused. It looked as if a bomb had exploded. He moved to the barricades and motioned to one of the workers. “I brought you guys coffee.”

Keith walked over. “Thanks, man.”

“Anyone get trapped?”

“They’re getting the baker out now. She was there when the roof collapsed. And they’re still digging some of the tenants out at the apartments. In a weird way, it’s a good thing it happened so early in the morning. Less people around to get hurt.”

Adam closed his eyes at the thought of Megan trapped under snow and ice. She had to be okay.

Keith gave a grin. “I’m going to miss her double-chocolate muffins though. Those got me through many a shift.”

“How long do you think it will take to get this cleaned up?”

Keith looked back and shrugged. “Day or two. But longer to rebuild.” He accepted the thermoses and bags. “Appreciate it.”

“Courtesy of the bank.”

The man seemed to wince a little but returned to his crew with the coffee. Several turned to Adam and yelled their thanks. He nodded and turned to go back to the bank.

And then he saw her.

Megan emerged from the bakery, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and ambled between two emergency workers. Her sister ran to her and put her arms around her. She didn’t look as if she’d been badly injured. He hoped she wasn’t.

Before now he hadn’t noticed that the Sweetheart was smack-dab in the middle of the most damage. He thought of the bank where he’d be needed. But his feet betrayed him as he walked slowly until he stood in front of her. “I’m sorry about the Sweetheart, Megan. But I’m glad you’re all right.”

She glanced up sharply at him then shifted away. Her sister, Kelly, rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet you’re sorry. Go find someone else to harass.”

Okay, maybe he’d deserved that before, but he’d changed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “When you’re ready to discuss rebuilding...”

Megan looked at the card held out to her, then after many long seconds, she took it and put it in the pocket of her jeans. Never saying a word.

Adam turned and almost bumped into a man. He apologized, then paused. He didn’t need to ask if the man he’d almost knocked down was Bobby Snow or not since he looked much the same. He still wore glasses, and the chubbiness of adolescence had remained. Bobby recognized him, too, as he made to leave. Adam followed him, however, weaving through the crowd of people who had come to witness the destruction. Adam called after him, “Wait, Bobby. I just want to talk to you.”

“Leave me the hell alone.”

“I want to apologize.”

The other man stopped and faced Adam. “You’re joking, right?” He turned to see if anyone else in the crowd was listening to him. “Is this guy kidding me? Because an apology won’t make up for what you did.”

“I was a jerk in high school. I’m sorry for the awful things I said and did to you.”

“Such as...” Bobby crossed his arms over his chest.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You really want a list? Fine. I’m sorry for shoving you into the girls’ restroom about once a week for three years. I’m sorry that I called you Piggy and Fatty and oinked when you walked down the hall at school.” He started counting things off on his fingers. “I apologize for stealing your lunch. For having Sarah McGillis write you a love letter as a joke. For having my team members TP your house. And your car.”

“You made Sarah write that note?” Bobby shook his head. “Of course you did. You hated me, so why not humiliate me?”

“I’m sorry.” Adam sighed. “I want to apologize and see if I can do anything to make it up to you.”

“Why?”

His other victims always asked that question, and he’d never been able to come up with the right answer. “Because I hate how I treated you when we were in high school. You didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry.”

Bobby looked him over. “What can you possibly do to atone for making my life miserable for four years?”

Adam shifted his weight from side to side. This was always the hardest part. Because how could he make up for that? For some, it was easy to lend them a helping hand. Others let him off the hook without requiring anything. But Bobby seemed to be the type that would never forgive him no matter what. “What do you want, Bobby? How can I make this up to you?”

Bobby started to laugh, and people started to stare at them. “You really think you can do something to change the stuff that happened twelve years ago? That was the time to make amends. Not now.” He hesitated then shook his head again. “Forget it.”

He started to walk away, but Adam reached out and grabbed his arm. “Please. There’s got to be something.”

“You can’t change what happened with us, but if you really want to do something you can go talk to the kids in high school like me who have bullies like you. Better yet, you can tell the entire high school how bullying turned you into a big shot while your victims suffered humiliation beyond high school, and worse, died.”

Adam paled and dropped his hand. He was right.

Bobby waved him off. “You’re all talk, but when it comes to action, you’ve got nothing. I don’t accept your apology. Now you can live with that.”

And he spun on his heel and left Adam among the crowd, who eyed him warily. He’d done what he came to do, so Adam took his leave and tromped through the snow heading to the bank. So much rebuilding was left to do in this town.

And the easiest part would be the buildings. The attitudes and memories would take much longer.

* * *

THE PARAMEDIC REMOVED the blood pressure cuff and nodded at Megs. “Your pressure is a little elevated, but that’s understandable. There’s no need to insist you go to the hospital, but I recommend taking it easy the rest of the day.”

Megs agreed. “Not as if I can go back to work.”

Her sister, Kelly, handed her a jacket she’d brought with her since Megs’s was buried under rubble. “We should go home. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Megs slowly walked away from the ambulance toward the crowd gathered to watch the crew pull down part of the standing back wall. She blinked away the tears that froze in the frigid wind. “You go ahead. I’m staying.”

Her sister’s boyfriend, Sam, put a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t help, Megs. Let the workers do what they have to, and I’ll go in with you tomorrow when they give us the all-clear.”

How could you go in something that no longer had a roof and four walls? Her heart was heavy. She teared up again.

Kelly and Sam watched her intently until finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Listen, I’m cold and I’m hungry. We could go get something to eat, but then I’m coming straight back. I can’t go home. Not yet.”

Kelly offered her a hopeful smile. “Fine. But if you’re staying, I am, too.” To Sam, she said, “I’m not going anywhere without her.”

He put his arms around her sister and kissed the top of her hat. “I know you won’t. We’ll all stay.”

He steered both sisters down the street toward Rick’s diner. They had to wait several minutes for a table to open up since it seemed everyone had the same idea: get warmth and food before heading back to the disaster on Lincoln. When they managed to claim a window booth that overlooked Main, Megs stared at the menu but didn’t really see the words. Not that she needed to see what was there to know what was listed. She’d spent many mealtimes in the diner since her mother had left them after her father died thirteen years ago. She shook away the emptiness that settled over her at the thought of Grammy. Oh, Grammy, you’d hate to see the Sweetheart today.

At least what was left of it.

She looked up to find Kelly peering at her over the top of her menu. Her sister lowered it and reached across the table to grab her hand. “Grammy would be feeling exactly what you are right now. I know it.”

Megs doubted it. Because she felt as if she was mourning Grammy all over again. First to lose her beloved grandmother and mentor, and now her business, too? If Grammy was here...

But she wasn’t.

Kelly’s blue eyes filled with tears. “If something had happened to you...” She took a big gulp and wiped at the corner of her eyes.

Megs squeezed her hand. “I know. But I’m fine.”

The waitress arrived to take their orders. Megs ordered some soup and coffee, the hotter the better to get her warmed up before returning to the frigid climes. Shirley grimaced when she asked for the bread basket. “Well, we didn’t get our bakery order this morning, so we have bread that Rick bought from the grocery store. The rolls aren’t the same as yours, but...”

Right. Because Megs hadn’t been able to bake and deliver their daily order without the bakery. The loss of the Sweetheart extended beyond her. Something to remember as she made plans to rebuild. Because she had to rebuild, right? People and businesses depended on her. “I’ll still take the bread basket, Shirley. Thanks.”

The waitress nodded and left their table to put in their orders. Sam sighed. “I’m going to miss your crullers the most, I think.”

“I can still make some for you at home.” Because that would be the only place she could use ovens until the bakery would reopen. “It will keep me busy at least while I wait.”

Sam held up his coffee cup. “We could look at this as something terrible. Or we could see this as a chance for you to fashion the Sweetheart in your own image. I can build it better than it was before.”

“What about Grammy’s house?” His offer was generous to say the least, but Sam and Kelly had been remodeling Grammy’s turn-of-the-century farmhouse for months. While the first floor was completed, they were in the middle of expanding the bathroom on the second floor. Megs shook her head. “You’re already booked.”

“The house is almost finished.” Sam glanced at Kelly, who nodded her assent. “The bakery is my first priority now.”

“We live in the house, and it would be nice to have a working bathroom.” She found that she could smile at that. “Besides, it will be days or weeks before the insurance on the bakery will kick in. I can’t rebuild without money.” She fingered the business card that she’d stashed in her jeans pocket. Adam was the last person she’d go to for a loan. She didn’t care how desperate she got, she would never go to him and beg for money.

CHAPTER TWO

IT TOOK TWO days to get clearance to enter what was left of the Sweetheart. Even then, Megs had to be accompanied by Will Stone, the town’s code inspector. And she had to wear a hard hat. She adjusted the heavy thing on her head and stepped over the threshold of her bakery. She stood in what once had been the retail area where her customers bought and ate their pastries. Snow now covered the broken glass of her display cases, the tabletops and chairs. The cash register was buried under more snow and broken timber. She walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

The damage here seemed minimal compared to the disaster in the front. Megs walked to the marble top of the work island that had saved her life and ran a hand along it. She glanced behind her to Will. “The insurance adjuster said he’d arrive at ten. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

Will nodded and glanced around. “I’m really sorry about what happened, Megs.”

“Not your fault.” She turned back and wandered to the shelves that still stood connected to the partial back wall. She pulled down a worn but now wet recipe book. She clutched it to her chest. “I’m glad Grammy’s not here to see this. It would kill her for sure.”

Will cleared his throat, probably not sure what to say to her gallows humor. She shrugged and walked back to the dining area. Being in the kitchen made her wish for something she could never get back.

A tiny man wearing a heavy parka ran into the bakery and glanced around. “Horrible. Simply horrible.”

Megs nodded. “Mr. Simon?”

The insurance adjuster brought out his cell phone and started to take pictures. “The devastation.”

She glanced around. Yep, that was what it felt like. “But you’ll be able to help me rebuild?”

He didn’t answer but continued to take pictures. She followed him around the front room, then through to the kitchen. Will handed him a hard hat, which the man put over his earmuffs. He snapped at least fifty pictures before he glanced at her. “Rebuild? Maybe. Mrs. Sweet’s insurance policy covered fire and flooding. But acts of God?” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“When we spoke on the phone, you assured me that this wouldn’t be an issue.” She looked around at her ruined business. “I believed you when you said that my policy covered damages.”

“Damages? Yes. Rebuilding?” He screwed his face up into a grimace. “Do you realize how much it will cost you to do that? Even on a smaller scale than what you once had?” He shook his head. “Your settlement will help you get started, but I’d suggest consulting a banker for a business loan. You’re going to need a lot more than what I can offer.”

The image of a certain banker’s face popped into her head. No. Never.

She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t this ever be easy?

Mr. Simon walked past her and into the kitchen area. She raised her brows questioningly at Will, who shrugged and followed the insurance adjuster. Maybe she could go into one of the Traverse City banks to get a loan. The bakery had a strong track record of sales, almost a century of them. Surely that would get her the funds she would need. It shouldn’t matter that she’d only been in charge of the business for four months, right?

Mr. Simon promised to inform her of the settlement within a few days. She shook his hand and thanked him for being prompt. Will Stone also shook her hand, but he paused before leaving through the front door. “I hate to say it, Megs, but Mr. Simon’s right. Anything to do with construction these days costs a lot. The insurance money will help, but you’re probably going to need a loan to cover the difference.”

She knew that, even as she resisted the idea. But she also knew she would do whatever she needed to avoid having to ask Adam for money. Anyone but him.

She thanked Will again, then locked the door behind him after he left. She sighed and walked back to the kitchen. She needed someone to give her advice. Someone who knew the business and could direct her. Problem was the person she’d depended on wasn’t here anymore.

Decision made, she grabbed her purse and locked the door and then walked down the street to where she’d parked her car on Main, since they still weren’t allowing vehicles on Lincoln.

She drove out to the countryside cemetery, where four generations of Sweets had been buried, and parked on the side of the road before trudging through the snow up the hill to where Grammy lay buried. She brushed the snow off the headstone marking her grandparents’ graves, then stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “I suppose you know why I’m here. The Sweetheart is in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”

She paused, listening to see if her dear Grammy would be able to communicate with her from the beyond. But only silence answered her.

Not that she’d expected to actually hear anything.

She thought of Grammy and how she and Pop Pop had kept the bakery going even through the lean times during the Great Depression and the sugar shortages of World War II. They’d rebuilt after a fire had destroyed the kitchen when her father had been a baby. They’d never given up, but had poured their hearts and souls into the Sweetheart.

They’d expect no less from her.

She kissed her glove, then rested it on the headstone. “Thank you both. I won’t let you down.”

She walked back to her car, determined to make things work. Somehow.

* * *

MONDAY MORNINGS REQUIRED enough coffee without a visit from the district manager. Adam sighed and poured himself his third cup, as well as one for Dave Thompson. He took both mugs to his office and handed one to his boss. “I don’t remember us having a meeting planned for today.”

Dave chuckled. “If I announced every time I was going to visit, I wouldn’t find out nearly enough about how things are really running in my branches.” He looked out the glass walls to the lobby area where a customer filled out a deposit slip at the stand and another stood at Eva’s window making his withdrawal. “Not that busy for a Monday morning, I see.”

“The weather has really affected the traffic the past few weeks. Besides, the snow birds are in Florida and won’t return until April or May.” Adam didn’t worry about the trickle of customers in January. But looking at the frown on Dave’s face made him rethink that position. “The winter months tend to be slower in Northern Michigan.”

Dave huffed and claimed the chair in front of Adam’s desk. “I thought when I brought you here that I was getting a go-getter who would make things happen in this area. Not a man who would offer excuses before he’d even started.”

“I am a go-getter, but I’m also realistic.” Adam rubbed his forehead above his nose where a tension headache threatened to form. He opened his eyes and looked at his boss, who waited for more. He sighed again. “The community had a setback last week when several businesses suffered from snow damage. Many of those business owners are our customers who will be looking to rebuild. I wanted to talk to you about an initiative that will not only leverage the business we have, but bring in more.”

Dave nodded. “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

Nothing like spitballing and making up things on the fly. Sure, he’d spent time considering options and alternatives for the community since the buildings had collapsed. But he hadn’t put anything concrete down on paper. They were merely ideas in his head at the moment. Adam put his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned slightly forward. “When you hired me for this location, the biggest obstacle you explained was the public image of the bank. Foreclosures on homes in the community were at a high. Deposits were down. And the previous bank manager was seen as the villain in the town drama.”

“Sounds right.”

“In the current crisis situation, I’d like to change the bank’s image so that we’re seen as a benefactor. Set up a community fund to help those who lost the most. Extend low-interest-rate loans to business owners who’ll need to build again. Make the bank a partner with the community in order to improve not only the businesses, but also our image.” He sat back in his chair. “If I can change that, I can bring in more money. We will be their first choice rather than last.”

Dave took a sip of his coffee then nodded. “Solid ideas. You think you can write up a plan and get it to me by the end of the day?”

Did he have a choice, really? “Absolutely.”

Dave stood, so Adam rose to his feet, as well. The other man extended his hand. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

They shook hands, then Adam escorted Dave to the door of his office. He opened it to allow the other man to walk through. Dave turned back when he was halfway out the door. “I hope this works. You have ninety days to prove it to me, or I’ll have to reassess who I have at the helm of this branch.”

“Understood.” Adam kept the smile on his face even as the bottom fell out of his stomach. Ninety days? An ambitious plan like his would take almost that long to be put into place. He watched as Dave greeted Eva, then walked out to his car in the parking lot. He entered the lobby and let himself into the teller’s area. He waited until the customer in front of Eva had left before addressing her. “Dave was here.”

Eva didn’t look at him but nodded. “I saw. Everything okay?”

“Remember those ideas you said were locked in your head?”

“Yep.” Eva turned and gave him a smile. “You ready to hear them?”

He nodded and regarded the tiny woman. He’d been told by Dave that she was a dynamo and his biggest ally in the branch. It was time to see if it was true. “I’ll buy you lunch, and we can discuss what we both have in mind.”

“You’re on.” She straightened the bills in her drawer so they faced all in the same direction. “And you might want to consider going to the town hall meeting tomorrow night. They’re discussing the Lincoln Street situation and what to do.”

If he could present some of his ideas to the town council, perhaps he could get their support in helping turn around not just the community but also the bank. He nodded. “Great idea. Thanks. You’re worth every penny we pay you.”

She glanced up at him with a smile. “Then, maybe you can send more of that my way?”

He laughed. “In ninety days, if I’m still here, I’ll ensure it happens.”

* * *

MEGS ENTERED THE high school auditorium and scanned the crowd to find her sister. Kelly had promised to get them three seats together for what was sure to be a packed town hall meeting. Already they’d had to change the venue from town council chambers at city hall to the high school when people had called for details about the evening’s meeting. And if the half-full room was any indication, they had been correct in switching to a larger space.

Kelly waved at Megs from a spot in the middle of the fifth row. How she had missed her sister when she’d been living in Nashville pursuing her music career. Grammy’s death had brought her back, one bright light in those dark days. She walked down the aisle and stopped when she found Adam sitting at the end of the fifth row. He had his dark head bent over a stack of three-by-five note cards and didn’t notice her. She’d have to squeeze by his tall, lanky form to get to her sister. She cleared her throat, and he looked up at her, his chocolate-brown eyes peering into her hazels. “Excuse me. I need to get past you.”

He didn’t seem to understand her English but stared at her. She held up her hands as if to ask him what the problem was. He stood but didn’t move into the aisle to let her pass. Instead, she faced a dilemma: squeeze by him with her back to him or turn to face him as she attempted to walk by. She decided she couldn’t spend any more time looking at him and turned her back to him to squeeze past. The tight quarters made her brush her arm across his chest. If she’d still been in high school, she might have described the event in her diary and swooned as she told her sister about it. Instead, she ignored the fluttery feeling it brought to her belly and walked toward her sister. She glanced behind her and found Adam watching her. He nodded at her before returning to his seat. Megs rolled her eyes and took the open seat next to Kelly.

Activity on the stage brought Megs’s attention to the front of the auditorium. She leaned closer to her sister. “This should be interesting.”

Kelly’s eyes twinkled. “The meeting or that awkward moment with Adam?”

“You saw that?” Megs groaned. “A gentleman would have stepped out into the aisle to let me pass, but he wouldn’t budge. Not that he was ever anything but a cad.”

Kelly’s eyebrows raised at this. “A cad? Been reading regency romances again with your free time?”

“Free time seems to be all I’ve had lately since I can’t seem to get a loan.” She shook her head and glanced at the agenda someone had thrust into her hand. “This is probably just another waste of time.”

“Since when has the community coming together to help out ever been a waste? I think the accident has made you cranky.” Kelly stood and scanned the rear of the auditorium, probably searching the audience for Sam. “Don’t let what’s happened change you, Megs. You’re better than that.”

“You sound like Grammy.”

Her sister turned back and nodded. “And maybe she’d kick your backside until you got out of this funk, too.” She paused and waved, then sat down next to her. “Grammy wouldn’t give up on the Sweetheart.”

“I haven’t given up.” Megs adjusted her coat around her shoulders since there was a chill in the auditorium. “I’m being realistic. I’ve applied to two banks for a business loan. Struck out at the first place, and the second wouldn’t even take my application because I haven’t owned the bakery long enough.” She sighed and shook her head. “Worked at the place for fifteen years, but apparently that doesn’t mean a thing when you’re asking for tens of thousands of dollars.”

Kelly nodded toward the end of the aisle. “So talk to Adam.”

“Be serious.” She glanced at him quickly and then shook her head. “He’s the last person I’d go to for this. You remember what he was like in high school.”

“Was being the key word.” She looked up at Sam as he approached them. “Hey, babe.”

Sam bent over and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Full house tonight.” He looked around and nodded at several people. “I would have been here earlier, but my inspection went longer than planned with Will.”

Kelly and Megs held their collective breaths. With a soft voice, her sister asked, “And what did he say?”

Sam shrugged. “He approved all the changes.” He gave them both a wide smile. “We’re officially finished renovating.”

Kelly squealed and jumped up to hug him. “All that work and time.”

“It was worth it, right?” He let go of Kelly and put an arm around Megs’s shoulder. “You girls actually have a beautiful fully remodeled home.”

“You mean, you and Kelly do. Grammy left it to the two of you.” Megs smiled despite the sour feeling in her belly. “Congratulations, you guys.” She joined the group hug and willed herself to feel happy for the couple who seemed to have everything going right for them. Finally.

A gavel sounded on the podium onstage, so they ended their celebration and took their seats. Megs took another glance down the aisle at Adam, who still studied his note cards. She wondered what that was all about.

Rick adjusted the microphone. “Testing. Great. If we could all settle down, we’ll get the meeting started. I know there are a lot of questions and concerns about what’s been going on. If you didn’t receive an agenda for tonight, hold up your hand and I’ll make sure you get a copy.” He shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked out at them then nodded. “Good. First, let me express my regrets about the loss of property. I’m glad to say that there were no fatalities. Randy Simms remains in stable condition at the hospital, but Vicky tells me she expects to bring him home next week.”

Several people clapped at this. Rick joined in for a second or two, then continued. “Next, I’ll have our town code inspector Will Stone talk about the damage the businesses on Lincoln received and his expectations of what happens next. Will?”

Will took his place at the microphone. “Thank you, Rick. And like you, I am grateful that there was no loss of life. The businesses, on the other hand, took quite a hit. The hardware store had minimal damage, but the bakery, aquarium, bookstore and the apartment complex have suffered quite badly.” For the next several minutes he described what Megs already knew. The shell of the buildings stood, but the interiors had been wiped out. Rebuilding was now the priority for not only the business owners, but the community members, as well. “I know I’m missing my cinnamon roll fix like you are.” He looked out into the crowd and smiled at Megs.

She put her head down. Without her hands in dough, her life felt emptier and colder. She longed for the heat of the ovens and the scent of yeast and sugar. She’d tried making cookies and bread at home, but it wasn’t the same. She missed the Sweetheart. Her bakery.

“In terms of rebuilding, I’d like to introduce someone who is dedicated to bringing back the Lincoln street businesses. Our local bank manager, Adam Hawkins.”

Her jaw dropped. Will had to be mistaken. Adam was dedicated to himself and his own interests alone. Certainly not to Lake Mildred’s.

* * *

ADAM HADN’T EXPECTED applause as he took the stage, but he hadn’t expected stunned silence, either. He shook it off, reminding himself they remembered his past and not his present. He put his note cards on the podium and took a sweeping glance out over the audience. He found hazel eyes staring at him from the fifth row, but chose to ignore her for the moment.

He nodded to Will. “Thank you, Mr. Stone and Mr. Mayor. I appreciate this opportunity to present Foster Community Bank’s proposal to rebuild Lincoln Street.” He flipped the first card over. “And that’s what this is—an opportunity to come together as partners in redeeming what was lost.” He glanced out again and squelched the nerves radiating from his fingers, making his note cards tremble. He found Megan staring at him. He kept his focus on her. “Foster Community will offer low-interest-rate loans to those business owners affected by the snowstorms, whether directly or indirectly. After all, what happens to one of us touches the entire community.

“We are also proposing a community fund to raise the funds necessary to help in the rebuilding process. I have set up an account where anyone can donate a dollar, five, ten. Whatever you have. Foster has agreed to match all contributions.” He flipped the next card. “We want to be a partner during this difficult time. And I hope that together we can rebuild and revitalize Lincoln Street as well as Lake Mildred. Any questions?”

Hands shot up around the auditorium. He wanted to groan, but Eva had warned him about this. Rick approached the podium and pointed to a gentleman near the front. “Mr. Finney?”

“You said low interest rate. How low?”

Adam smiled. A question he was prepared for. “Three percent less than the current rate, which will save the business owner thousands over the life of the loan. And no application fee or closing costs.”

“Why would Foster be willing to work with us now when many of us lost our homes before because they refused?”

A hard question, but again he’d come prepared. “I regret how things were handled in the past. Those responsible are no longer with Foster Community, and we are working hard to repair those bridges we burned. I have been brought here to salvage the relationship the bank once enjoyed with you all. We want to be your source of sound advice and help you achieve your financial goals.” He stopped before he sounded anything more like a public-relations brochure. Another hand, and a familiar guy stood. Adam wanted to ask someone else, anyone else for a question, but he stood and waited. “And we should believe you why?”

His smile faltered slightly at the sight of his old friend Shane Lee. “I approached the bank president regarding these plans, and she has agreed to them all in writing. I have copies of our proposal should anyone need one.”

“I still don’t trust a word you say. We all remember what you were when you left here.” Shane took his seat.

Adam winced. He’d anticipated that something like this might come up, but he’d hoped it would come from someone else. “I grew up here, so you all know the boy that I was. But I’ve returned as a changed man. I don’t want to see us lose any of the businesses, including the aquarium store. Let’s work this out together. I’ll be in my office every day and every hour the bank is open this week and next for those who want to discuss this plan further.”

He glanced out at the audience but didn’t see any more hands. Most had gone down after the last question, which meant he had to rebuild more than the bank’s reputation. He had his own to consider.

* * *

AFTER ADAM’S PROPOSAL from Foster Community, there was another rival branch manager who stood to offer assistance. But Megs noted that it didn’t come close to what Adam had offered. There was no talk of a community fund with matching contributions. Or lower interest rates.

Maybe Adam had changed. Megs shook her head. She meant the bank had changed. The Sweetheart had been a customer for longer than she’d been alive, so it had been a no-brainer to keep the accounts there as they were before Grammy died. And though she hadn’t been affected by the foreclosures, she knew many of her customers who had been. The town’s population had shrunk by almost a quarter during that time. Slowly, it was changing for the better. People were now buying homes that had been sitting empty for years and bringing their money to spend in her shop and others.

She stole a glance down the aisle to where Adam sat listening to the other bank manager. Had he changed from the angry bully she remembered? The one who hurt others to keep everyone at a distance? He turned and found her looking at him. She turned back and tried to keep her focus on the speaker, her cheeks heating at getting caught.

After another hour, the session broke up with Rick assuring everyone that there would be a follow-up next week at the town council meeting. Megs rose to her feet and reached behind her to grab her thick coat. The snow had stopped for now, but the frigid temperatures had returned with a vengeance. She struggled to get the parka over her shoulder when a helping hand intervened. She turned and looked up into Adam’s long thin face. She stammered and cursed her flaming cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I meant what I said up there, Megan. I’m here to help.” He glanced past her, at her sister and Sam, then nodded and left.

Megs turned to Kelly. “What was that about?”

Her sister shrugged. “Sounds as if he wants to help you.”

“I don’t want his kind of help.” But she felt less sure of that than before.

“But you might need him more than what you want.”

Megs noticed him walk up the aisle to the back of the auditorium before getting stopped by several people with questions. He leaned down to hear them better and seemed interested in what they had to say. He seemed so different from the boy who had bullied her and her friends. Less hostile, more willing to help. But could she trust him? She already had two strikes against her with the other banks. What could it hurt to try the third at Foster with Adam?

But to help her case, she’d be sure not to show up with empty hands reaching out.

* * *

WHEN SHE RETURNED HOME, she scoured Grammy’s cookbooks for the best recipe to use for what she had in mind. She needed to tempt Adam with her sweet treats, but it had to be special. Something more would be required than a batch of chocolate-chip cookies if she expected him to hand her a loan for thousands of dollars. It had to require an effort on her part since she was asking for the same thing from him.

Cannolis? She wrinkled her nose. Those always sent the wrong message, especially if it was a gift for the opposite sex.

Strudel? Nah, she didn’t want to come across as flaky as the pastry.

She willed Grammy to direct her hands as she flipped through pages, as if the woman could tell her from the other side what to do about the business. The back door opened, and Kelly breezed in, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Megs gave a smirk but returned her gaze to the cookbook. “Said good-night to Sam?”

Kelly brought her fingers to her face and nodded. “That man sure can kiss.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to take your word on that.” Despite the fact that she’d known Sam longer and perhaps in some ways better, it was her sister’s attention he had snagged. She flipped through more pages and sighed. “So now that you’ve gotten the all-clear on the house, what are you two going to do with it?”

Her sister hung up her bright pink wool pea coat on a peg, then took a seat across the dining room table from her, snatching a cookie from an overflowing plate. “Good question. The will won’t be out of probate for a few more months, so it’s not as if we have to decide right this minute.”

Megs looked up at her. “Do you think you have the money to buy out Sam’s half? Or are you two planning on something more permanent?”

Kelly teased, “Now that I don’t have my paycheck from the bakery, I have even less money than before. And Sam hasn’t mentioned the future lately. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.” She munched on her cookie for a moment before she said, “The best thing would be to sell the place. As much as I hate to say it.”

Megs shook her head. “Sam’s planning a future, all right. And you’re the only one he’s intending to spend it with.”

Kelly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

They both looked around the renovated dining room that now opened into the living room. It would be a shame to have to leave not only their family home, but the beautiful showcase that Kelly and Sam had turned it into. But for them to each get their share of the inheritance, it meant selling would probably be their best option. Kelly frowned. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Crazy meeting tonight, huh? So are you going to finally meet with Adam and discuss that loan?”

“That’s what I’m working on.” She held up the cookbook and pointed to a recipe. “Does he look like a Napoleon kind of person?”

Kelly took the book from her. “He’s too tall. You thinking of buttering him up with one of your pastries?”

“I need him to see that I’m more than just doughnuts and cookies. That I’ve got a head for business as well as baked goods.” She picked up Grammy’s old recipe ledger that now had a warped cover from the water damage. She opened it and with a finger traced the blurry handwriting. The ink had run on certain pages, and she wanted to howl at the loss of not only the recipes but Grammy’s notes. This book was her legacy from the woman who had taught her to cream sugar and sift flour. Her mentor who ate the first piece of her peasant bread and sampled her crème fraîche. She ran a hand down one page. “I keep hoping that something will jump out as the perfect recipe.”

“Like this?” Kelly turned the page around of the cookbook she’d been looking at and pointed to their grandmother’s handwriting. “She wrote that these were perfect for desperate times.”

“I’m not desperate.” At her sister’s doubtful expression, she shook her head. “I’m not. Worse comes to worst, I take the insurance money and start over somewhere else.”

“But then it wouldn’t be the Sweetheart.”

“It would. Just in a different location.” She took the book from her sister. “But it wouldn’t hurt to try. Right?”

She read over the recipe for baci, a small Italian cookie that Grammy recommended dipping in chocolate. It looked easy. Simple but elegant. And she had all the ingredients already. It could work.

At this point, it couldn’t hurt.

* * *

MEGS TOOK THE cream canvas bag from her backseat and carefully placed it over her arm as she shut the door. She glanced up at the bank and took a deep breath to calm the buzzing bees that filled her belly. She could do this. She could go in there and prove to Adam that the Sweetheart deserved that loan. That she could meet the repayment terms without a struggle.

She had to do this.

Another deep breath, and she walked forward. She’d arrived ten minutes before her appointment time, but she hoped that he would see it as a sign of her determination rather than desperation. She opened the front door and allowed Mr. Finney to enter before she followed him inside.

The lobby looked the same as it always did when she brought in the daily deposit, but it felt different today. Ominous. Foreboding? Megs really had to stop reading those regency romance novels for a while. She felt as though she was going off to face the lion in his den, and knowing Adam as she did, it might not be that inaccurate of a description.

She signed in on the clipboard then took a seat to wait her turn, putting the bag at her feet. She glanced inside at the plastic container of baci that rested on top. She’d had Kelly and Sam taste test them before she had filled the container for Adam and his staff. If Kelly’s and Sam’s moans of pleasure had been any indication, she had something special in her arsenal against the bank manager.

Adam’s office door opened, and the man himself stood in the frame. He looked taller, thinner than his high school days, and he wore a tie and suit rather than a letterman’s jacket and worn jeans. It was the look in his eyes that made her pause. The wariness remained there.

“Megan Sweet?” He called her name as if he didn’t know her. As if he’d never hurt her.

She took another deep breath and rose to her feet. Grabbed the handles of the tote bag and brushed past him into his office, trying to ignore the spicy scent wafting from him that hit her nose as she did so. She took the chair in front of his desk and removed the plastic container from her bag and placed it in her lap. Popping open the top, she let the aroma of chocolate fill the tiny office. She removed a napkin with the Sweetheart logo and placed a baci on it before putting it in front of Adam.

He frowned. “What’s this? A bribe already?”

He claimed he’d changed, but he’d just proved that nothing had. He still used words to hurt and belittle. She bristled in her chair and pointed at the pastry. “It’s a treat for you and your staff from the Sweetheart.”

He eyed it, then took it in his hand. She watched as he lifted to his mouth and raised one eyebrow. He chewed it slowly, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick any crumbs left on his lips. He nodded. “Good.”

“This is just a sample of what I can do.” She brought out her recipe ledger and spread it open. “My grandmother not only left me the bakery, but all her time-tested recipes guaranteed to make the Sweetheart a success for years to come. And success means money, which means you and I both profit. See this recipe for True Love’s torte? It’s a hot seller especially around Valentine’s Day, which is just around the corner and...”

Adam held a hand up. “Recipes and products that sell are good.” He paused. “For you, that is. They don’t mean a thing to me or the bank.”

Megs sat back in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankles. She regretted having worn her practical boots rather than the high heels that Kelly had suggested. “Sex sells,” her sister had told her as she pulled out a different outfit from what she currently wore. Maybe she should have worn the low V-neck wrap dress rather than the turtleneck sweater under the wool blazer.

“So that’s it? You’re turning me down already?” She rose to her feet and grasped the handles of the tote bag.

Adam came around the desk and put a hand on her shoulder. “Where are you going? We’re just getting started.”

“I’m not about to sit here and let you mock me. I put up with enough of that when we were teenagers.” She grabbed her coat that she’d draped on the back of the chair. “I have too much to do to waste my time with you.”

Adam left her side and stood in front of the door. “You’re so quick to judge me.”

“You taught me well.”

They glared at each other until he blinked. “I’m not mocking you, Megan. I’m trying to tell you what I’m looking to get from you. While I appreciate you bringing the cookies today, I need more than that to risk the bank’s money on the bakery.” He seemed to rise several inches as he gestured to the chair she’d vacated. “Now, why don’t we sit down and go over what I need?”

She eyed him warily. She didn’t have much choice, did she?

* * *

ADAM BLINKED SEVERAL times before Megan took her seat and placed her coat and bag in the empty chair next to hers. He let out the breath he realized he’d been holding and returned to his seat behind the desk. He pulled out a folder and handed it across to her. She looked up at him with those hazel brown eyes filled with past pain. He knew he’d been responsible of putting that there and had regretted it every day since. “If you look at the first page in your packet, you’ll notice that we will need several documents from you to support your loan application. Tax returns. Profit and loss statements. An accounting of all your assets and liabilities.”

She looked over the list and seemed to grow pale in front of him. He’d heard a lot about her prowess as a baker, but very little about her as a businesswoman. Perhaps she hadn’t had to worry about the business side of things until recently. He was tempted to reach out and put a hand over hers. Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and rested them on the desk. “It sounds a lot worse than it is. Your accountant will have most, if not all, of these documents. I will try to make this as easy on you as possible.”

She peered up at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to help you out.”

“Again, why?”

He cleared his throat. “Listen. I know our past history doesn’t make us friends or anything, but I could be your ally.” Before she could ask again, he barreled on. “Because I want to make up for what happened. Because you didn’t deserve anything I did to you. Or your friend.”

She paused and eyed him again. “If we work together on this loan, I want a couple of ground rules.”

That didn’t sound good. “Okay. Like what?”

She held up one finger. “No talking about the past. Especially about Kenny.” Two fingers. “Nothing to be done or offered out of pity or trying to redeem yourself because of said past.” Three fingers. “And we keep this on a purely professional level.”

“I can agree to those terms. Should we shake on it?” He held his hand out to her.

She stared at it, but kept her hand to herself. “And no touching.”

“You have a lot of rules.” He gave her a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. But the scowl on her face remained, so he put his hand back on the desk. “Fine. No touching.”

She looked back at the document list. “I have some of these items with me. Jack thought I should be prepared for anything.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick binder. “I’m glad I listened to him.”

Was this Jack her boyfriend? He tried to recall anyone with that name in their graduating class but couldn’t come up with a face. And why did the thought of Megan with a boyfriend make his heart sink? Not that she shouldn’t have one, as pretty and as sweet as she was. But the idea didn’t settle well with him.

She flipped through the binder and unsnapped the rings so that she could remove several pages. She handed them across the desk to him, and he stood. “I’ll go make some copies of this for your file. Can I get you anything while I’m out? Coffee? Water?”

“Hot tea, if you have it.” She flipped through the binder some more, then pulled out two more pages. “You may need these, as well.”

So civil. So polite. Adam nodded and took the pages as well as the cookies to the break room with him. He found Eva having her lunch, and held out the container. “Megan Sweet brought treats for the entire staff.”

She chose one and bit into it, closing her eyes as she chewed. “That girl is truly talented.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Lord knows I loved Addy, but her granddaughter is even better at making the bakery run than she was.”

Adam leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You think the Sweetheart would be a good risk?”

Eva finished swallowing her bite and smiled. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve got to make copies.” He held up the pages and walked out of the break room. Why was he already second-guessing Megs’s request for a loan? It wasn’t as if he was using his position to repay her for the past by green-lighting the request. Besides, she probably still had that same backbone that had helped her stand up to him and would use it again to rebuild the business and make it thrive.

He got his copies and returned to his office, handing Megs the originals. She spent several minutes reorganizing the pages back into her binder, and placed it in her bag. She studied the lone piece of paper left in front of her. “I noticed that the document list asks for a business plan.”

He sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Did you come prepared for that, as well?”

“You want it in writing? Rather than me telling you that I sell bread and cookies to the town?” She shook her head. “Because that’s my plan for the business. Not that difficult to figure out.”

He frowned at her. “No, I want a written description of your business, your target consumer as well as a forecast for any future growth. How many employees you have and your labor costs. A budget. I want hard numbers based on the information you gave me here.” He lifted the pages from his desk and waved them in her direction. “A concrete business plan for the Sweetheart.” When she continued to stare at him, he longed to groan. Instead, he put the papers back down. “You do have one, right?”

She stared at her hands. “Only in my head.”

“That’s a great start, Megan.” He watched her until she raised her head to meet his eyes. “If you’d like, I can help you formulate one to go along with your application.”

She stood and grabbed her coat and bag. “No, I think I can figure it out on my own. I don’t need you to do anything but put in the application.” She nodded at him then turned to leave.

He rose to his feet and walked behind her out of the office. “I’ll expect your application soon, then.”

She didn’t say anything but waved at his tellers before leaving the bank.

Well, that didn’t go too badly.

* * *

MEGS WALKED TO her car and opened the back door to put her tote bag in before letting herself into the driver’s seat. Don’t cry. Not here. Leave the parking lot and then you can lose it. She started the car and paused for a moment before putting it in gear.

Once out of the parking lot, she let the tears that had been threatening since walking into Adam’s office fall down her cheeks and drip off her chin unhindered. The fact that she’d had to go to him of all people with hat in hand to ask for money. Then for him to make her feel smaller than an ant because she didn’t have a written business plan. And if she didn’t have Jack for an accountant, she wouldn’t know the first thing about his list of required documents.

She felt like a fool in more than one way.

A fool to assume she had the business sense to run the bakery. If anything, she learned that she still had more to find out. And she felt foolish to imagine she could face him again without feeling like a fifteen-year-old afraid of the big bully. Without remembering Kenny and what it had cost him.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she answered it through the speaker phone on her car.

“How did it go?” Kelly, of course.

“I’m not sure exactly. He needs a written business plan, and I don’t know the first thing about writing one.”

“So we’ll Google it and put one together.”

“And the application is like twenty pages long.” She sniffed. “And it’s Adam Hawkins. I don’t exactly have the best history with him.”

“A lot can change in twelve years.”

She was probably right. Megs was glad she’d made that rule about not bringing up the past. Why rehash it?

Then, why hang on to it?

Okay, her conscience had a good point. Adam seemed to have gotten past all of that, and she needed to, as well. Just bury those memories away. Let it go. Move on. And every other cliché she could think of. “Yup. It’s for the best. Time to forget and—”

Her sister chuckled. “I didn’t say forget. I mean, he was a bully who hurt a lot of people. But he seems to have changed, so that’s all over with.” There was a pause. “Right?”

It was over, all right. Because there was no way that Megs was going to let him humiliate and hurt her or anyone she loved ever again. “Right, Kel.” Her phone buzzed, and she checked the caller ID on her car’s console. “That’s Mom. I’ll be home in about ten minutes.”

She switched the call using the buttons on her steering wheel and took several deep breaths. Talking to her mother was easier now that they had established a relationship as adults, but she couldn’t forget the abandonment. “Hi, Mom. Where are you today?”

Her mom chuckled. “Megs, I’m not exactly a globe trotter. Still in Florida, though Stan is talking about moving on to Arizona where it’s drier. Better for his asthma.”

Megs frowned. “Stan? I thought you were with Michael.”

“His kids didn’t like me much, so there you are.” Her mom was suddenly silent on the other end. “Listen, sweetie, I heard about the Sweetheart. Are you going to be okay?”

How? Lake Mildred, Michigan, was a long ways from Florida, but obviously the local grapevine extended that far south. “I’ll be fine. I met with the bank manager to discuss getting a loan to rebuild the bakery.”

“Can you afford that?”

“I can’t afford not to.” Because the option of doing nothing was unthinkable. “Unless you have some money you could lend me.”

Her mom laughed, but it sounded false. “Oh, sure. Let me send you a check for twenty thousand. Will that work?” Another pause. “You know if I had anything, I’d be the first to be sure you had enough.”

Her mom had never been one she could depend on in a crisis. She’d always turned to her dad, then Grammy after he’d died. They’d been the steady, strong ones in her life. Not her mother. “Thanks anyway, Mom.” Megs turned down the street where she lived. “I’m almost home, so I’ve got to go. Have fun with Stan.”

“Oh, I will.” Then her mother was gone.

Megs ended the call by pressing a button and gripped the steering wheel. It was time to start depending on herself. Time to do something different. Be something different. She could be strong on her own. Do it all herself.

But first, she’d have to research what a written business plan required.

CHAPTER THREE

THE LIGHTS FROM the cabin lit the way for Megs and Kelly as they walked carefully over the icy path, balancing several boxes of pastries and cookies as well as two loaves of sourdough bread. Kelly glanced behind them. “I’ll get our overnight bags after we put all this inside.”

Megs kept her eyes forward, skirting around a patch of ice. “Why we have to hold this girls’ weekend at a remote log cabin is beyond me. Why not a spa or the casino? Just because Jack has the room for all of us under one roof...”

“I think this will be fun.” Kelly giggled and walked faster to the front door. “How many did you say will be here?”

“Depends. Every year is different.” She paused before the top box could slide off the two others and land in the snow. “I doubt Suzy will be here since she has the baby. And sometimes people bring friends and... Maybe ten?”

They had finally reached the front door. Megs used her foot to knock since her hands were full. “Open up or none of you get any treats.”

A woman in a hoodie and sweatpants answered the door. She turned and yelled into the cabin, “Dessert is here. The fun can begin.” She took two boxes off Megs’s load and held the door open for them. “Penny is setting up all the food in Jack’s kitchen. Megs, you know the way.”

“Thanks, Shelby.” Megs stepped inside the cabin. The front room was a large open space connected to the kitchen and boasted huge windows that looked out into the woods surrounding it. She led the way to the kitchen and smiled at Penny, a friend since high school. “Hey, you made it this year.”

The older woman shrugged. “My husband decided that he could live without me for a weekend.” She gave a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tell me you brought those chocolate things I love.”

Kelly set her load on the countertop. “If they’ve got chocolate, then yes she made them. She’s been baking all week for this.”

Penny opened a lid and took out a mini éclair and bit into it. “You’re a genius, Megs. Honestly.”

If only she could convince Adam of that. She still had the application sitting on top of her dresser, waiting for her to work on that. And the business plan. She should have been doing that rather than baking for the girls’ only weekend. But she had priorities. She looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”

“I found some old photos in the study and they’re having a look at those. There will be cries of laughter any minute now, Jack wasn’t the cutest of babies.” Penny’s brother lent them the cabin for their girls’ weekend every year despite his sister’s constant teasing. Penny smirked. “Those pictures probably won’t help get him married off any time soon, I’m afraid.”

Kelly’s eyes lit up, and she left to join the other women. Megs chuckled. “So didn’t need to know that about my accountant.”

Penny shrugged and continued getting the food set up for their first evening. Megs reached for a container and stacked crackers on a plate. “Everything okay? You look a little pale.”

“Nothing this weekend won’t help.” She started to clear her throat and turned away from the food. “Sorry. Smoker’s cough.”

“I thought you gave that up.”

“It comes and goes. Right now, it’s my nasty habit.” She turned and looked at Kelly, who had brought in their overnight bags. “You warn your sister about this weekend?”

Megs raised one eyebrow. “And ruin my fun? I don’t think so.”

Penny laughed then started to cough again. “I really gotta quit for good this time.”

Megs put her hand on her friend’s arm, then walked into the living area where a fire had been lit in the wood-burning stove. The mulled wine was already in the pot on top of the stove. She took the wooden spoon resting on a shelf above and gave the wine and fruit a stir. The front door opened, and she greeted Lizzie Allyn. “You’re off work for the weekend?”

“Didn’t want to not participate in the shenanigans again.” She pulled her wheeled suitcase inside and placed it near the pile with the others. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just baby pictures of Jack.”

Penny and Shelby had started the girls-only weekend a few years ago. And each year, the festivities got bigger and louder. Friday night was mulled wine and catching up with everyone. Saturday meant hiking with canteens of wine, a huge dinner, then a pajama fashion show and board games. Sunday was a big brunch after sleeping in late. Megs rarely took a weekend off from the bakery, but it was always this one. She wouldn’t dare miss the party.

Kelly walked back into the living room. “Here’s a picture of Rick, our now illustrious mayor, with Jack mooning the cheerleaders.” She chuckled. “I forgot about that. It’s amazing what the years can do to your memories.”

“I was there, and trust me, I’d rather forget it.” Penny carried the platter of cheese and crackers into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. “Seems we’re all here if we want to get this party started.”

Shelby returned to the living room followed by Lizzie, Suzy, Page, Tori and Presley. “Now that roll call’s been taken, I’m starving. Is it all ready?”

“Yes, no thanks to you.” Penny brought over a tray of mugs and balanced it on the seat of a chair from the dining room. “Would someone like to serve the wine?”

Since she was standing near the stove, Megs did the honors of ladling the hot spiced wine into the mugs and distributing them to each woman. All but Lizzie. “I can’t.”

Conversations stopped as the group turned toward her. Suzy asked what they were all thinking. “Why, Mrs. Allyn, are you pregnant?”

Lizzie’s cheeks colored. “I wish. We’ve been trying, but nothing’s happened. I’m off alcohol and caffeine to boost our chances.” She got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. She turned back to find them watching her. “It’s no big deal.”

Suzy put her mug down. “We don’t have to drink this weekend if it would make you feel uncomfortable.”

Lizzie waved her hand at her. “No, don’t abstain on my account. I’m fine.” She took a seat on the sofa. “Well, not completely fine. I mean, I’m failing as a woman since I can’t even get pregnant.”

Page, ever the counselor, shook her head, her long blond curls moving in waves as she did so. “A woman’s sole purpose is not to have a baby, Liz. You shouldn’t accept that as a failure on your part.”

“It feels like it, though.” She raised her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “But Rick’s been great. He’s trying so hard to cheer me up.” She gave a soft smile. “He even surprised me one night by wearing my pink teddy to bed.”

Shelby covered her eyes. “Don’t want that image in my head.”

“He only did it to get me to laugh. And it worked. Especially when he couldn’t get out of it, and I had to cut the thing off him.”

The women chortled and sipped their wine. Penny looked around at the other women. “Matt and I...lost another baby this past October.” She put a hand on her flat belly. “My problem isn’t getting pregnant, but staying so. My ob-gyn doesn’t know why the miscarriages keep happening.”

Shelby reached over and put a hand over her sister’s. “I had a feeling something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sisters shared a glance. “Matt and I had agreed not to tell anyone until I was past the three-month point. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Well, Mom figured it out.” Shelby rushed on before her sister could reply. “She didn’t say anything to anyone but me, so no one but those of us here know.”

Megs leaned in close to Kelly. “That’s one of the rules this weekend. Whatever is shared between us stays here. Consequences of sharing our secrets is pretty stiff, too.”

Kelly nodded and glanced around at the other women. “I want to thank you for including me this weekend. Megs has told me about her wild weekends before, but I’m glad to be a part of it this year.”

“Me, too.” Presley, a tall redhead, lifted her mug. “Thank you for the invite.”

Suzy put her arm around her friend and squeezed. “I had to include both you and Page this year. You’re my besties.”

“How’s Will surviving with little Ben on his own?” Page asked.

Suzy shrugged. “His mom’s staying with him over the weekend, so he’s not exactly alone. And as they say, not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“Plus he’s watching my twins, don’t forget,” said Tori. “So he’s going to have his hands full. But my brother was a marine. He’ll be fine.” Tori saluted her sister-in-law with her mug. “I need more wine. There seems to be a hole in this cup. It’s empty already.”

She rose from her seated position on the floor and went to the stove and held up the ladle. “Anyone else?”

Kelly joined her and got her mug refilled. Megs stared down into hers. This weekend seemed to be starting on a negative note. She got to her feet and joined them at the stove for a refill. More wine would be good.

Shelby cleared her throat. “Okay, I have some good news. I’ll be finishing my associate’s degree in business management this May.” She gave a short laugh. “A two-year degree that’s only taken me four to finish.”

“That’s great news!” Tori took her seat on the floor again. “Does that mean your boss, Walt, will give you a raise now? You’ve been managing his cottage and rental property business for a while.”

“Which is why getting my degree has taken four years.” Shelby shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it, but when he comes back this spring from Florida I’ll really need to nail him down about my future there.”

“Walt’s getting up in years. You might want to talk to him about taking over the cottages when he retires.” Penny shrugged when her sister stared at her. “What? You’ve talked about that before. I’m only saying it out loud.”

“He has a grandson with a fancy degree to inherit them.”

“A grandson who hasn’t been back to Michigan in how many years? While you’ve been putting in your own blood and sweat into this place. More than any of the Austins, so why not ask for what’s due to you?” Penny sipped her wine.

“It’s an idea.” Shelby took a napkin from the stack on the coffee table and filled it with several rounds of cheese and crackers. “Who else has news?” She turned to Megs. “What are you going to do about the bakery?”

The one topic she’d been hoping to avoid. Megs sipped her wine rather than answering. Kelly leaned in as if to share gossip. “She went to the bank this past week and talked to Adam about getting a business loan to rebuild.”

“That man is seriously hot.” Page fanned herself. “And I heard he’s single.”

“He can stay that way for all I care.” Megs rose to her feet and walked into the kitchen to grab the box of mini éclairs and cream puffs. She pulled out a plastic plate and put the empty box to the side before taking the pastries into the living room. “We all remember what he was like in high school.”

Presley raised her hand. “Not all of us grew up here, so no, I don’t.” She glanced at Page. “And you were in the next town over.”

Page shrugged and picked a cream puff. “I still heard stories about him, though.” She glanced at Megs. “A real heartbreaker with the ladies.”

Megs bristled. “And a big bully to boot. He took delight in hurting those weaker than him.” She loaded her napkin with mini éclairs. “I’d rather not talk about him if that’s okay.”

“I sense a story there.” Presley looked to Kelly who shook her head. “But you don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

“I have some good news.” Kelly glanced at all of them then smiled widely. “Sam called me to say that a couple of the songs we wrote together sold and will be on Tyler Wilson’s next album.” Everyone hooted and cheered.

Her sister, the songwriter. Megs grinned. Who would have thought? Kelly the singer, sure. But she hadn’t known her sister had the writing talent until she’d sung a song she’d cowritten with Sam last November. “And that’s only the beginning for you both.”

“Any wedding bells ringing for you two yet?”

Kelly blushed but shrugged at Penny. “Who knows? We have to sort out what’s going to happen to Grammy’s house. Do we sell it or not? Brandy said we have time before the real estate season really starts, but we need to make some decisions. And soon.”

“Where is Brandy, by the way?” Suzy glanced at Lizzie. “I thought you invited her.”

“I did, but she called this morning and said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Suzy nodded. “The flu is getting around. Half of my patients have it and pass on their germs to the other half. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

Tori stood and lifted her mug. “Ladies, here’s to good health and hanging on to it.”

They all clinked their mugs and settled in to devouring the pastries and finishing off the mulled wine.

* * *

THE MORNING LIGHT peeked in through the slats of the vertical blinds that covered the large picture window in the living room. Megs took her top pillow and placed it over her face. Way too early to be thinking about getting up after a night of drinking many mugs of mulled wine. She rolled over to find Shelby percolating coffee using an ancient kettle on top of the wood-burning stove. Another tradition.

Megs sat up and gave a long yawn while stretching her arms up and out. Might as well get the doughnuts and strudel ready for the morning meal. She stacked her pillows next to Shelby’s in the corner and folded her blankets beside them. “How long have you been up?”

Shelby shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I’ve been stuck on what Penny said about asking Walt to run the cottage business.” She glanced at Megs. “Think I could do it?”

“You’ve been working there since you were fifteen. If anyone knows that business, it’s you.” She walked into the kitchen and rinsed off a tray before placing a paper towel over it. She started to stack doughnuts on it. “It’s like the Sweetheart. It’s all I know.”

“So what are you going to do about the bakery?”

“Kelly was right. I’m applying for a loan, but Adam asked for a written business plan and I don’t know the first thing about that.”

“Hey, I could help you with that. No problem.” Shelby reached over and snagged a honey cruller. “That’s part of what I learned for my degree. Do you have time next week?”

“Time is all I have at the moment. Thanks.” Megs claimed one of the stools at the kitchen island and helped herself to a sour-cream doughnut. “Then maybe Adam will get off my back with this loan app.”

“You doing okay working with Adam?”

Megs made a face. “I guess. I mean, I told him that we couldn’t discuss the past. And absolutely no touching.”

“And he agreed just like that?”

He had, which puzzled her. The old Adam would have argued with her nonstop until he’d gotten whatever he wanted. Instead, the new Adam had gone along with her proposal.

As if he didn’t care.

“Just like that.” It had been too easy. He had to have some other kind of angle he was working on with her. Because he never did anything at face value. He always had a scheme going. “He doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

More of the women started to stir, so Megs busied herself slicing the raspberry strudel that she’d made yesterday. She handed a slice on a napkin to Lizzie and a cup of herbal tea. “Thanks.”

“My Grammy had a recipe she called the baby maker. I’ll see if I can find it if you want to try it.”

Lizzie gave her a half smile. “I might take you up on that.” Penny clapped her hands. “I filled the canteens with wine, so once we’re dressed, we can go on our hike.”

Kelly whispered to Megs, “Hiking with wine? I don’t get it.”

“It’s not just a hike to the lake,” Megs explained. “We do a polar-bear plunge before we run back. The wine is to give us the courage to go out naked into the icy water.”

Kelly’s head snapped up. “Skinny-dipping in February? Isn’t the lake frozen over?”

“Not completely.” Megs shrugged. “You don’t have to if you’re chicken. Not everyone does it.” She winked at her sister then joined the others to get ready.

* * *

“I WANT TO see the man in charge!” The old man stood in the middle of the bank, hands on his hips. “They said he has money, and I need some.”

Adam saved his work on the computer then walked into the lobby. “I’m the branch manager. Why don’t you step into my office and we can discuss what you need?”

The man pushed Adam aside and took a seat in one of the chairs. He whistled as he took in the furnishings of the office. “No wonder this bank never has any money. You spend it all on decorating.”

Adam took a seat across from him and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Mr. Taber, right? You used to drive the school bus.”

The old man eyed him and gave a short nod. “For thirty-eight years, I picked you kids up and dropped you off. I’m retired from there now, but I work part-time at the hardware store.” He paused. “Or I did until that roof collapsed.”

“When do they expect the hardware store will reopen?”

“Few weeks, best they can tell.” Mr. Taber shook his head. “Problem is, I live on social security and that job. How can I pay my bills if I’m not working?”

Adam pulled out a pad of paper and started to take notes. “That’s a very good point, Mr. Taber. How much did you usually make at the store?”

“In a week? About one-fifty after taxes.” Mr. Taber shifted in his chair. “I wouldn’t normally complain, but that paid for groceries and gas in my car. No paycheck means I’m not eating.”

Adam wrote all of this down, then pulled out a withdrawal slip from a desk drawer. “Will three hundred dollars help you in the meantime?”

Mr. Taber’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s the catch? I done told you I’m not working, so I can’t pay it back.”

“We set up the community fund to help people like you survive until the hardware store reopens. And we don’t expect to get paid back.” Adam signed the slip. “Will tens and twenties be sufficient?”

The old man nodded. “Fine.”

Adam stood and left the office. He went up to one of his teller’s windows and waited as she ran the transaction and counted back the money. Adam placed it in an envelope and took it with him to his office where he held it out to Mr. Taber. “You’ll let me know if you need any more.”

Mr. Taber stared at the envelope. “Is this some kind of joke? I walk in with empty hands and walk out with cash? Maybe that’s why you people never have any money.”

“This all comes from donations, Mr. Taber.” He thrust the envelope in the man’s hand. “People want to help others like yourself in this community.”

“I never took no charity, but I appreciate the help.” He stuffed the cash in his coat pocket. “Now, are you done with me? Or can I get out of your hair?”

Adam shook his hand then saw him to the front door. He turned to find some of the other customers watching him. A woman approached him. “How do I donate to the community fund? Can I just write a check?”

Adam ushered her into his office. Sometimes you gave, but other times you received.

* * *

BEING A NEW MOM, Suzy had stayed behind to keep the wood-burning stove fed and roaring when they returned from their hike to the lake. She grinned at their wet heads. “You all did it?”

Kelly scowled at her sister and moved closer to the stove to warm up. Megs grabbed the wool blanket that she’d brought with her and draped it over her sister’s shoulders. “You’ve officially been initiated into the girls’ club.”

“Only had to freeze my nether regions to do it, too.” She grasped the ends of the blanket and pulled it around her.

Tori put her arm around her waist. “The only thing is that you can’t tell anyone about it. Otherwise, I’m sure we’d get a few spectators.”

“Jack.” Penny and Shelby nodded at each other. “If he only knew what we did in his cabin each year.”

Presley and Page joined Kelly near the fire while the veterans compared notes to years past. Suzy walked up to Megs and handed her her cell phone. “You got a call while you were out there.”

“Thanks.” Megs checked her caller ID and frowned at the unfamiliar phone number. She pressed Redial.

A male voice answered on the other end. “Megan? It’s Adam.”

She glanced at the other women, then walked quickly down the hallway to Jack’s study. She closed the door behind her. “Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t heard from you since we met on Thursday. I’d hoped to have your application so we can get moving on that loan.”

Right. The loan app. “I’m not home this weekend. It’s going to be the middle of next week before I have it ready for you.” Silence on the other end. She sighed. “I’m working on that business plan you asked for.”

“If you need assistance, I’d be glad...”

“No.” She winced at her tone and dropped her volume. “I mean, no, thank you. I’ve got someone who’s volunteered to help me.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence while Megs wondered why he’d call her on a Saturday morning. And how had he gotten her cell phone number? Probably from the listing on her personal account. She cleared her throat. “So I need to get back to my friends.”

“Sure. Have a good weekend, Megan.”

She hung up before she could tell him to do the same.

* * *

AT TWO, ADAM helped the tellers get their cash drawers back into the vault and shut the door, spinning the dials to secure it for the weekend. He’d hoped that by being in the office on the weekend, he’d get more traffic from the Lincoln Street business owners needing loans. He’d had one customer besides Mr. Taber. John Striker, who ran the hardware store. The damage had been minimal to his store, but enough to need some assistance.

He tried not to take the absence of the other business owners personally, but it looked as though his efforts to improve the relationship of the bank to the community had a long way to go. He walked his staff out to their cars after he’d locked the bank, then used his key fob to unlock the doors to his truck. He had his hand on the door handle, but he didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment just yet. He locked the truck again and decided to head toward downtown and the diner. Maybe a burger and fries would improve his mood.

He entered Rick’s diner and saw the mayor leaning on the counter as he chatted with a guy on one of the stools. Adam took a seat several stools down from him and perused a menu, even though he’d already made up his mind what to eat. Rick walked down the counter and put a glass of ice water in front of him. “Haven’t seen you in here since high school.”

“There’s a time for everything.” He put the menu down. “I’ll get the cheeseburger platter with a diet pop.”

“Good man.” Rick wrote the order down on a pad, then took Adam’s menu and placed it back on the stack near the register. “I’ll go put that in for you.”

Adam noted the other man at the counter. He had longish dark hair and a beard, but he looked familiar from his high school days. The name rested on the tip of his tongue, but it eluded him. Rick set a plastic opaque cup in front of him with his drink. He followed Adam’s gaze. “Jack Novakowski. I believe he was in your year at Lake Mildred High.”

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