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“Here in Night Sky?”
“I hope.”
“Then you have nothing lined up.”
Tara pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her sense of foreboding intensified.
The manager smiled with mock regret, paused a beat, and then pushed Tara’s papers back toward her with an air of finality.
“I don’t want to appear harsh, Miss Sullivan, but I do not believe it would be in the best interest of the bank to extend this loan under such tenuous circumstances.”
Suddenly numb from head to toe, Tara forced herself to speak.
“You’d get your money back, plus more interest—”
“Your aunt got a lower interest rate by agreeing to the balloon. That was the arrangement she made, the contract she signed. When one enters into a balloon mortgage, it is with the understanding that refinancing is not guaranteed and that the entire loan balance is due on a particular date.”
“Look—” Tara pulled in another breath, tamping down cold panic “—can’t you give me a break here? I mean, this bank loans money.” She gestured at the plastic banner stretched over the tellers’ windows, advertising second mortgage rates, just in case the little worm in front of her had forgotten. “I’m current on my payments. I’ve proven I’m trustworthy, in spite of being laid off…. I’ll pay higher interest if you’ll refinance the balloon. I don’t care. I just need to make payments.” She paused before adding with the utmost sincerity, “It will be very difficult to make the payment and keep my brother in college.” More like impossible, but he didn’t need to know that. “I can do it if you extend the mortgage.”
The bank manager merely blinked at her, obviously unmoved.
Tara swallowed hard. “I would really appreciate it if you’d help me with this.”
It killed her to beg, but she’d crawl on the floor if that was what it took.
“It might be good for your brother to go to work for a while and then continue his studies.”
“No,” Tara replied firmly, making a supreme effort to keep her temper in check. “It might be good for him to continue his studies right now. He’s completed his sophomore year at UNLV and has just been accepted into a prestigious engineering internship program in California. It’s a private college and highly competitive. He needs to go right after summer school or he’ll lose his slot. He has financial aid, but it won’t be enough to cover both schooling and living expenses. If we could refinance this for even a few years…” Tara lifted her chin. “I want Nicky to have a decent shot at life.”
The manager shook his head, making no attempt this time to feign regret. “I’m sorry, Miss Sullivan,” he said in a “business is business” tone. “Payment is due October first.”
“So I have to chose between my brother’s education and the balloon payment.”
“If that is your situation, then, yes.”
“And if I can’t make payment at that time?”
“I believe you will eventually lose your collateral.”
There was no mistaking his meaning.
The bank would take her house—the house her great-grandfather, one of Night Sky’s founders, had built for his growing family over a hundred years ago. The house that had been the one source of constancy in her turbulent life.
Tara hitched her chin up a notch.
“Not if I go to another bank and take out a loan to pay off your loan.”
The man fiddled with the gold pen for a moment before he said, “You may find it difficult to get a loan in your current situation, unemployed and with your only collateral already tied up as a lien on another loan.” He raised his beady worm eyes to meet hers. “Practically impossible, I would guess.”
This guy was playing hardball.
“If it looks like you will not be able to make this payment—” the worm’s voice broke into Tara’s thoughts “—for the sake of your credit rating, you might want to sell the house first and use the money to settle this loan.”
Sell the house….
The words echoed in her head as she slowly raised her gaze to meet that of the man across the desk from her.
Her jaw tightened as she suddenly understood exactly what was happening. This man had been well aware of the fact that she was going to have to choose between Nicky’s education and making the payment, and he was going to take advantage of it—most probably for one of his best customers. The Somerses would like nothing better than to get their hands on her house, for both punitive and economic reasons. Tara’s property abutted the rear of theirs and provided the perfect opportunity for them to expand their empire of vacation retreats for the rich and semifamous.
The manager met her gaze blandly, with just the barest hint of smug satisfaction.
Tara narrowed her eyes slightly as the comforting calm of battle settled over her, a calm that, from the man’s subtle shift of expression, was being misread as acceptance.
“Sell my house….” Tara spoke the words thoughtfully as she gathered her purse and papers. She rose to her feet.
“Sell my house,” she repeated matter-of-factly. She didn’t speak loudly, but she did speak clearly, and the manager’s eyes darted around the room, as though trying to ascertain whether she was attracting attention. She was. He cleared his throat.
“Just a suggestion for your own financial—”
“I will sell my house when hell freezes over.” Tara raised her eyebrows as she politely inquired, “Does that time frame work for you?”
“Miss Sullivan…” the manager protested as two customers, whose fathers had presumably not tried to abscond with federally insured funds years before, sent curious looks their way.
“I can promise you two things,” she continued. “First, your bank will get its money. Second, Martin Somers will not get his slimy hands on my house because the bank is not going to foreclose.” Tara allowed herself a grim smile. “And you can tell him that.”
“Miss Sullivan, I have no such intention—” But Tara simply raised her fingers to her lips.
The man hushed, probably because he didn’t want to risk having her stay a second longer than necessary. She held his beady gaze for a moment, then turned and stalked out of the bank.
It wasn’t until the door swung shut behind her that she indulged in several deep shaky breaths. Her heart was pounding. What? What on earth was she going to do now?
Tara strode to the Camry, yanked the unlocked door open and dropped behind the wheel, slamming the door shut behind her.
Nicky needed more money than she’d ever made in a year, including salary and freelance work….
Tara leaned her head back and closed her eyes, fighting tears of frustration. She should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing ever was. She opened her eyes, determined.
No financial institution was getting her family’s house. It wasn’t going to happen. Nicky was taking his internship and she was going to make the balloon payment. On time.
Now, all she had to do was to figure out how.
TARA HAD BOTH a throbbing headache and a sketchy idea of what to do by early evening. She stood for a moment at her bedroom window, watching as Matt got into his old, but meticulously cared for, Ford pickup—almost a twin to her own old truck—and drove away, leaving a rooster tail of dust in the red light of the setting sun. The dust slowly settled and Tara turned to lean against the windowsill.
Her finances hadn’t seemed that bad prior to her visit to the bank that morning. She wasn’t rolling in dough, but she’d had enough money to meet her monthly bills, including the mortgage she’d inherited, and she had Aunt Laura’s life insurance to pay for Nicky’s college expenses. But now, even if she cashed out her meager 401K and added it to Aunt Laura’s life insurance, she still didn’t have enough.
Damned bank manager.
She’d sunk too much money into the house; most of the remaining supplies and furniture were either already purchased or contracted for, and sitting in storage, or were awaiting pickup. Even if she returned what hadn’t been used, it was only a drop in the bucket. No, she had only one direction to go. Forward. She’d put this house together and do her best to get a loan or grant or private money before October 1.
She let out a sigh and then realized she’d been sighing way too much for one day. It smacked of defeatism. She’d had to be tough for herself and Nicky while they were growing up. She wouldn’t let herself break down now.
She crossed the room to the staircase, running a hand over the stripped banister as she descended. She’d been trying to decide between dark oak or walnut stain. It looked as if she’d better decide soon.
The clock chimed six as she went to the kitchen to get her paintbrushes. She’d be able to get in at least five more hours and still be in bed before midnight, which was about the time Nicky would be getting home. He planned to stay for ten days and do what he could to help with the house before heading back to Vegas to finish his last classes during the summer session. She hadn’t told him about the balloon payment and she wasn’t going to, because she knew he’d postpone school in a heartbeat if he thought she were going to lose her house.
But she wasn’t going to lose the house.
Not without a fight, anyway, because if there was one thing Tara knew how to do, it was how to fight.
HOW DO YOU SAY no to a man who’d been more of a father to you than your father or your stepfather had been?
You don’t, Matt thought as he strode up the walk to his temporary home. At least not right off the bat…especially when the guy was trying to help.
The Anderson house, as it was known to the locals, was more of a cottage than a house, built after World War II as housing for a tungsten mine and then moved in to town when the mine closed down in the early 1960s. A living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bath—more than enough room for a man trying to put his life back together. It was one of Luke’s rentals and Matt had it to himself, since the old man had figured he’d want privacy. He’d been correct. Matt did not want to wake up thrashing from some nightmare with Luke in the house. Some things were private.
The backyard of the house opened onto an alley. On the other side of it across a gravel parking lot, was the back door into the Owl Club, Night Sky’s only casino. It boasted twenty-four-hour fun and sometimes it lived up to its reputation, despite the fact that Night Sky’s population hovered around the 1,200 mark, which included the outlying county.
Matt took a quick shower, changed into jeans and a T-shirt and headed across the alley to meet Luke for dinner. A fat cat waddled out from under the back porch and threw himself lovingly against Matt’s legs. Matt gently eased the animal aside and kept walking. The cat seemed to have come with the house and he drove Matt crazy, staring at him through the window with its huge yellow eyes.
When Matt came in, he saw Luke seated in one of the red vinyl booths, cupping a tall glass of iced tea in both hands and passing time with a buxom waitress. The waitress smiled at Matt and shook back her blond curls. Matt gave her a nod as he slid into the booth.
“How’d it go?” Luke asked.
“I think the work’s going to take longer than she wants it to.”
“But you’ll be able to get it done.”
“No problem,” Matt said as he reached for a glass of ice water.
Luke glanced up at the waitress, who was watching Matt with unabashed interest. “Becky, this is Matt. He took my place at Tara’s today. I was supposed to work on that porch of hers, but my shoulder’s acting up so bad I couldn’t hammer.”
Becky squinted her eyes. “You’re working for Tara?”
He nodded.
“I’ll bet you’re earning that pay,” she said with a snort before turning to Luke. “Now, what can I get you guys? The special’s good tonight.”
Matt gave his order after Luke, following the waitress with his eyes as she sauntered back to the kitchen, her hips swinging under the short pink skirt. When he glanced back, he saw that the old man was smiling.
“Not what you’re thinking,” Matt said dryly. “‘I’ll bet you’re earning that pay’?”
“Yeah. Well, Tara tends to say what she thinks and do what she wants.”
“She pisses people off,” Matt translated with a half smile.
“That she does,” Luke agreed before taking a swallow of tea. He grimaced.
“I can see it,” Matt replied, as Luke regarded the tall glass in front of him with disgust.
“What I wouldn’t give for a beer,” Luke muttered. He took another swallow of tea, and grimaced again. “Reacts with my medication, you know. And even if I wanted to live dangerously, Becky there—” he nodded at the waitress as she emerged from the kitchen with their prefab salads “—knows I’m taking it and won’t serve me.”
“Rough life,” Matt said. “Having somebody look out for you…whether you want them to or not.”
“Isn’t it?” Luke asked with equal irony. His expression became more serious. “This isn’t a bad town to hang out in for a while, Matt. Think things through.”
“The small-town cure for what ails you,” Matt said, a corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m not sure it’ll work on a big-city boy. Besides, I thought I was here to help you.”
Luke’s eyebrows went up. “You are,” he said innocently.
Yeah, he was. The old guy could barely move his arms. But he knew there was more to the situation than that. They both knew it. Since the incident—well, both incidents, the emotional one and the physical one— Matt’s life hadn’t been the same. If he’d owned a dog, it probably would have run away.
“I’m doing okay, Luke,” Matt said softly, intently, trying to mean it.
Luke’s gray eyes held an expression of deep understanding. “Yeah. I know, kid.”
Matt wondered if he did, and then felt ashamed of himself. Luke had spent thirty years in construction before retiring to Night Sky, his hometown, and he’d seen two tours of duty in Vietnam. He was also a good man—the kind of man Matt always thought his late father had been up until a few months ago when the staggering truth had come to light.
After dropping the salads on the table, Becky leaned over Matt, brushing cozily against him as she pulled the condiments closer. She smiled as she straightened and ran her hands down the sides of her skirt. The invitation was obvious. Matt smiled back noncommittally and picked up his fork.
“Not a lot of fresh blood in this town,” Luke murmured after she had reluctantly left.
“Tell me about Tara Sullivan.”
“What about her?” Luke asked.
“She just seems like an unusual person. Easy on the eyes, but all business.”
“She is all business. And sometimes her bite is as bad as her bark.” Luke speared a giant chunk of iceberg lettuce, then picked up the steak knife and sawed it into edible pieces.
“Why do you work for her?”
“I like her.”
Matt glanced up. He’d sensed from the moment that Luke had sent him out to the place that this woman was important to him. He just didn’t know why. Luke continued to tackle his salad. “I know she can put people off, but she’s honest and…well…let’s just say she hasn’t had an easy time of it around here.”
“Not an easy time?”
“Nope.” The word was flat and final. “I worked for her aunt after I retired. Laura was too busy with too many things to maintain that old house, but she loved the outdoors. She designed the gardens, the pathways and such around the place, and I made them happen. After that, it seemed natural enough for me to maintain things. I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“You do a nice job.” The old house was surrounded by almost two acres of groomed landscaping. Near the house, the design fit in with the Victorian theme—an old gazebo, wooden archways, shade trees, grass and winding paths. Farther away, near the barn and shop, the landscaping melded into the surrounding meadows, which acted as pasture for the two donkeys Tara apparently kept as pets.
“Gives me something to do, and Tara needs a guy around now that Nicky, her brother, is away at college.”
Matt had a feeling that Tara could handle things quite well without a man around, but he kept his thoughts to himself. With no immediate family of his own, Luke had a tendency to adopt people. Like Matt. And apparently like this Sullivan woman, too.
The meals arrived and after Becky was done delivering the hot plates, Matt let the subject drop. He wasn’t that interested in Tara Sullivan. If Luke’s shoulder kept him out of commission, and it looked like it was going to from the stiff way the old man was moving, Matt’d have a few more weeks at the house, tops. Right up until the end of his leave.
How much did he need to know to hammer a few boards back into place?
