“Sorry about that.” Thorndike steamed through the door, one hand running over his thinning hair, smoothing the comb-over in place. Dropping his bulk into the chair behind his desk, he said, “What you’re considering sounds like a pretty big undertaking, Jenni Beth.”
“It is.”
“Your parents would need to come in and sign off on all this.”
“Why?”
He looked taken aback. “Because it’s their house.”
“And I’m the one borrowing the money and the one who will pay it back. They’re behind me one hundred percent.”
Her eyes met his. “There’s no sense beating around the bush, Richard. We’ve known each other a long time. Mama and Daddy have their accounts here, so you’d have to be deaf and blind not to be aware their investments have gone down the drain along with so many others’.”
Maybe more so, since they’d quit caring.
“Financially, the Beaumonts of Misty Bottoms, Georgia, are in trouble,” she admitted.
He nodded, eyes cool.
She hated that. So dispassionate. So calm, while she had so much at stake. He could at least pretend it mattered.
“Bottom line?” she continued. “They can’t afford to maintain Magnolia House as a private residence. It’s falling down around our ears. I intend to change that.”
Tenting his hands beneath his chin, he leaned back, the rich leather chair creaking beneath his weight. “You’re right. None of this is news. You’re also right about your family’s financial status, especially after your father’s regrettable gamble last year. And that, in and of itself, makes you a poor candidate for a loan.”
Heart lodged in her throat, she leaned in toward him. Insisted he meet her eyes. “I respectfully disagree. My parents are having money trouble. Not me.”
He nodded again, slower this time. “Point taken. Run through your plan again. I’m listening.”
Satisfied she had his attention this time, she laid out the bare bones of her dream. Shared her vision of Magnolia House as a wedding venue. Told him about the weddings she’d organized at Chateau Rouge. His head bobbed, but his face remained impassive.
“Destination weddings are, and always have been, popular. Savannah is one of the favorite spots, and I think we can capitalize on that.”
“Hmmm. Maybe.” He rested his hands on his desk, offered no encouragement.
“I’ll turn most of the second floor into an apartment for my parents, and I’ll live on the third floor.” She could see it. Put all that hope into her voice. “Between the first floor, the carriage house, and the guest cottage, we’ll have plenty of space to accommodate weddings. And while I intend to cater to the wedding business, we’ll host other social events as well.”
He merely grunted in response.
Frustration swept through her. Damn him! He wouldn’t give an inch. Wouldn’t feed her a single kernel of encouragement. Fine.
Forced smile in place, she opened her folder and removed the carefully prepared business plans. Using Richard’s massive cherry desk, she laid out several initial drawings of proposed changes to the house, her research on wedding venues, and an estimate of both operating expenses and income. Proudly, she spread out photos from the fabulous weddings she’d organized at Chateau Rouge.
“This is more than a pipe dream, Richard. I’ve done my homework, given my vision a great deal of thought, and have the experience. I’m not jumping blindly into this venture.”
“I can see that.” He pulled one of the sketches closer to study it.
“I need this. Misty Bottoms needs this.”
He quirked a brow.
Pompous jerk!
Biting down on her rising temper, she said, “The town needs a shot in the arm. My business, Magnolia Brides, will provide that. It’ll open up jobs. During the renovation, I’ll put our carpenters, electricians, and plumbers to work. When I get it off the ground and running, there’ll be a significant impact on other local businesses—both of Misty Bottoms’ hotels, Dee-Ann’s, the new flower shop, the pharmacy, and on and on. Everyone will benefit.”
Still, Richard sat stoically, saying nothing. She wanted to shout at him. Shake him. She needed this money. For herself. For her parents. She could help bring the community to life again, not turn her back on it like Cole Bryson.
Because her hands wanted to fidget, she clasped them together in her lap and waited.
“How much do you figure you’ll need?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
He whistled through his teeth. “That’s a lot, Jenni Beth.”
“Not really. Not for a business. You’ve lent that to people to buy a run-of-the-mill house. I’m talking about refurbishing a historic building. Establishing a new enterprise that will bring money into our town. I’ve got the credentials and the experience. Personally, I think it’s the safest loan you’ve made in quite a while.”
“Can you stand to lose that much money?”
Her chin came up. “I won’t. I will make this work.”
Finally, he nudged the drawing away and looked at her. “You know I believe in you, Jenni Beth.”
“But?”
He spread his hands wide. “Unfortunately, I have bosses, too. People to whom I have to answer.”
Her stomach plunged to her stilettoed toes.
“I can’t possibly lend this kind of money without collateral.”
Okay, she thought. Still hope. “I have some savings.”
“The account here at Coastal?”
She nodded. She’d transferred her Savannah account.
“Not enough, I’m afraid. I checked your balance while I was out taking care of the other problem.”
She had expected as much. Her eyes focused on a photo of Richard’s dad shaking hands with former president Jimmy Carter. A young Richard stood at his elbow. Now or never. Time to play her ace in the hole. “I have a piece of land.”
Richard frowned. “Your parents still own—”
“No, this acreage is mine. No one else’s name is on the deed.”
“Really?” Eyes hooded, the banker rolled a pen between his thumb and index finger.
“My grandfather left it to me.”
He used silence again, kept her hanging.
Southern ladies might glisten rather than sweat, but Jenni Beth detected a definite dampness trickle down her back beneath her pretty silk blouse. Richard was supposed to be a friend. While she wouldn’t call him hostile, he didn’t exactly define affable, either.
But then, she reminded herself, she’d come on business. She hadn’t stopped by for a social visit.
“We still own a chunk of land around the house itself, but my folks have sold off parcels of the adjacent land. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
“Yes.”
“In his will, Grandpa Beaumont deeded a quarter section of bottomland to me. I couldn’t sell it till I turned twenty-two. That was three years ago.”
She noted Richard’s reaction, that small, nearly imperceptible tell.
“Then why not sell it? That would certainly put any money problems to bed. I’m almost certain I can find you a buyer.”
“I’ve had offers on it already, but I don’t want to sell the land, and I shouldn’t have to.”
“Seems to me that would be your smartest move. You should seriously consider it.”
“No. I’ve got dual degrees in business and hospitality and event planning. I can make this work. It’s a perfect fit. This is a good loan, Richard, one you shouldn’t have any trouble selling to your bosses. That land’s worth at least twice what I’m asking to borrow. Do you need an appraisal?”
“No, a similar piece has been appraised recently.”
She frowned. “Whose?”
“I can’t discuss that.” He straightened some papers o
n his desk. “Give me some time to run the numbers, Jenni Beth. I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow or the next day.”
She stood, a glimmer of hope rekindled. Not quite the outcome she’d wanted, but apparently the best she’d get right now.
A chance. That’s all she needed.
“Thanks, Richard.” She held out a hand, shook his.
“You might want to go over these copies again, show them to your bosses.” She pushed the folder with her business plan toward him. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
On her way out of the bank, she smiled at the tellers and said good-bye to Gloria, Richard’s girl Friday.
She hadn’t wanted to bring the land into the deal. Had been afraid she’d have to. Heck, she’d wanted a larger loan but had trimmed it when she’d realized the way the wind was blowing. Less money would mean lots more elbow grease, but she didn’t mind that. Sweat equity was a good thing.
The worst of it? The smaller budget almost guaranteed she’d have to ask Cole for help. He was the expert on old houses. Since that moonlit dance, she hadn’t been able to roust him from her mind. Last night while she wasn’t sleeping, she’d wondered if he’d be willing to help. Her pride and ego would both take a serious hit, but the taste of crow would disappear with Magnolia House’s first bride.
After their run-in at the diner, though…
Wedding gowns, bridal bouquets, and smiles. Her own business. She wanted it. All of it. But even more, she needed desperately to save her family home. Her parents could not lose Magnolia House. They wouldn’t survive it. If it meant swearing a pact with the devil to make it happen, then so be it.
And speak of the devil.
* * *
Cole swung through the door and nearly collided with Jenni Beth. She looked intense and more than a little frustrated.
As she made to walk past, he shot out a hand and caught her arm.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded.
He folded his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. He pursed his lips as his eyes moved over her face. “Could have fooled me.”
Obviously disgruntled, she ran the fingers of her free hand through all that gorgeous blond hair, giving it a sleep-tousled look. Oh boy! He dragged his wayward thoughts back.
“I take it things didn’t go well.”
“I don’t know.”
“Okaaay.”
“I despise red tape. I can’t stomach other people telling me what’s best for me.” Those slate-blue eyes, a shade darker than they’d been at Dee-Ann’s, flashed with frustration and temper. “And I loathe having to ask for help.”
Saying nothing, he noted the racing pulse where his fingers still touched her wrist. “Richard turn you down?”
She shook her head. A strand of silky hair fell over one eye, and she flicked it back. “No. Not yet, anyway. I think he’ll come to his senses—eventually.”
“If he doesn’t—”
“I know. Call you. You’ll be more than happy to come tear down my house. Problem solved.”
She sounded tired now, her anger sliding into discouragement, and it was all he could do not to wrap her in a hug.
“Actually, I was gonna suggest a partnership of sorts.”
Her head tipped slightly to the side. “I take it I’m the fly, and you’re the spider?” She paused. “Go ahead. Your turn.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“You’re supposed to ask, ‘Will you walk into my parlor?’”
“It’s not like that.”
“Sure. Let me see how things go here. Right now, I’ve got to run. You have a good day.”
With that, she stalked out on those rail-thin heels and left him standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans. Not a bad view!
Offhand, he’d say Thorndike hadn’t handled the situation very well. Jenni Beth was one royally pissed lady.
But then, Cole admitted, she usually was around him, too.
And the blame for that? His. Dating back to when he’d been eighteen and stupid. Then again when he’d been twenty-four and even stupider.
Beneath that fierceness, though, was hurt, and he couldn’t bear to see that.
Richard popped out of his office. Spotting him, he waved. “How’re you doing, Cole?”
“Good.”
“In town long?”
“Not sure. I’ve got a few things in the fire. Some business to take care of.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“Nope, just cashin’ a check.” Cole walked to one of the tellers’ windows.
Richard turned to his secretary. “Gloria, draw up loan papers for Jenni Beth Beaumont. I’ll email you the details in a few minutes.”
Well, what do you know? Cole thought. She’d pulled it off. He hoped before she dug herself in any deeper, she’d realize the scope of this project. His own temper on a slow burn, he glanced toward Thorndike’s office. Shame on him for stringing her along. For sending her home in a funk to sweat it out.
Power. Thorndike enjoyed wielding it.
Cole finished up his business and walked past Richard’s office on the way out. The bank president, phone cradled between his chin and his shoulder, spoke quietly. Still, Cole caught Jenni Beth’s name.
None of his business, he told himself firmly. Despite that, he sank onto one of the chairs. Hadn’t he promised Wes he’d take care of his baby sister?
“She left not more than five minutes ago. Came in looking for a loan,” Richard said into the phone. “I played it cagey. Left things up in the air.”
Cole saw red, tipped his head to hear better.
“But,” Richard continued, “I think that piece of land we need to close the deal is finally ours. Jenni Beth offered it up as collateral on a scheme that doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. And, believe me, I intend to give that snowball a little downhill nudge—just in case. A bit of added insurance.”
What, exactly, constituted a little nudge? Cole’s chest constricted. If Richard harmed so much as a hair on Jenni Beth’s head, gave her one second of grief…
Looked like his stay in Misty Bottoms had just been extended.
Chapter 4
Jenni Beth decided to take the stilettos Cole had mentioned for another walk down Main Street, give herself some much needed cooling-down time. No way could she go home in this temper.
She wasn’t sure who she was angrier with: Richard, Cole, or herself.
Could she have done more to prepare for her meeting? Probably not. Should she have downplayed the financial situation at home? No. That would have been stupid. Richard had all that information at his fingertips. He was simply being a jerk. Pulling her chain because he could. She hoped.
And Cole. The nerve of him, asking if she understood the gravity of the town’s situation. She’d come back here to live, hadn’t she? Not him. The obnoxious oaf.
Yet it appeared he’d spent more time here lately than she had. Maybe he knew something she didn’t. Whatever. Too late for second thoughts. She’d left her job, and this was where she needed to be right now.
Realizing she’d actually walked past her target, she slowed and took a deep, calming breath. She couldn’t let him get to her like this.
The truth was, Cole Bryson raised her hackles on a good day. Today, when she was stressed to the max and pumped to talk to Richard about her future, running into Cole had been the proverbial last straw. His timing couldn’t have been worse. He needed to head back to Savannah.
She’d do fine without him. Better, in fact.
Someone else in town could help her with Magnolia House.
Well, she refused to give him another minute’s thought. Time to pull a Scarlett O’Hara. She’d think about all this tomorrow…or later today anyway. Now that the adrenaline rush of the meeting
was wearing off, exhaustion hit. She wanted to go home. But first, she needed to check on Darlene.
Retracing her steps to Quilty Pleasures, she studied the buildings that lined Main Street. A couple of the brick ones dated back to the late 1700s. A long time to stand in the hot Georgia sun, but they remained proud, with their bright flower boxes and handblown glass windows.
Misty Bottoms. A micro-Savannah, albeit a little more tired, a little less trendy. But all that quaint charm was here. Grass peeked up between the bricks in the sidewalk, and mature trees shaded both people and buildings.
The town’s strongest selling point, though? Its people. Misty Bottomers. Most had been born here, attended school here. Would live their entire lives here. And they cared about each other. When someone passed you on the street and asked, “How are you?” it was more than a mumbled nicety. The person actually wanted to know how you were doing.
She sailed through the shop door. The space smelled of citrus and sunshine.
“Darlene? I read the article about your store in today’s paper.”
“Oh, Jenni Beth. Isn’t it awful? I’m so ashamed.” Darlene, a reed-thin woman in her sixties, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup divine, dropped a quilt square onto the battered counter.
“Ashamed? Whatever for?”
“I’m losin’ my business. It’s been in the family for just shy of seventy years. Tilly Sorenson, my grandma on my mother’s side, opened this shop with her dowry money. My mama worked here as a little girl, then took over for Grandma.” She picked up a framed black-and-white photo of the women from the counter. “I’ve let them down.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears behind bright purple reading glasses that perched on her nose. Her ankle-length caftan matched the glasses perfectly.
Jenni Beth’s heart went out to the shopkeeper. Regret and worry sat heavy on her. Could Cole be right? Was this what she was setting herself up for? No. She’d never failed to meet a goal she’d set, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Best Laid Wedding Plans Page 3
