work in the loan office, but since this is my family’s bank, I have the same concern you do that we all succeed in Bliss.”
“Are you saying I have recourse? Have I overpaid?”
A commotion interrupted from the outer office. Raised voices and thudding as if something had dropped on the floor.
Before Jason could speak, the door burst open. A tall glass vase tumbled and broke and furniture skidded as a man dived over the back of the couch, trying to plant his fist in Jason’s face.
With barely any effort at all, Jason stood and twisted out of the intruder’s reach. Jason climbed over the table and put himself between Fleming and his attacker, who’d ended up on the floor.
“Paige,” Jason said, as he pulled Fleming up and tucked her behind his back. The man at their feet scrambled for handholds on the table and the sofa.
Without thinking, Fleming flattened her hands on Jason’s back. “We need the police,” she gasped.
He urged her toward the office door. “Get out of here.”
She froze. “I can’t just leave you with him.” Walk away and leave someone else in possible danger? She looked into his eyes, and in that moment of ugly violence a bond formed between them. She took a step back, but not because she was afraid of the intruder.
“Stay there,” another voice barked.
Two armed, uniformed guards bounded over the furniture to scoop up the bank’s former loan officer. One hustled their prey, stunned by his fall, out of the room. The other, a long-time acquaintance of Fleming’s, faced Jason.
“We’ve called the police. They’re on their way.”
“Did he hurt anyone out there?” Jason glanced toward the reception area.
“No, sir. Seemed intent on getting in here. Fleming, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Oakes.” With relief flowing to every extremity, but feeling incredibly awkward at the same time, she hid her face as she bent to gather the files she’d dumped on the faded, flowery rug. “He must have tripped on these when he landed.”
“Let me help you.” Jason’s hand brushed hers as she picked up a file, which she dropped immediately.
Mr. Oakes, who’d also provided security for high school football games in years past, managed to retrieve the rest and handed the pile to her. “You should go home.”
“I have to go to work.” She stared into the hall, where Paige suddenly reappeared, writhing against his captor’s hold. “He never said a word.”
“He made his point, though.” Jason looked calm, but his voice seemed a thread huskier. This time, as she stared, fascinated, he looked away, feeling for his tablet underneath the chair. “You might want to stay in case the police...”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’ll email you the information I was hoping to discuss. We can talk about it again.”
After seeing him attacked, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her money troubles. It was embarrassing. If she lost the shop, she’d lose her home. She’d lose her mother’s respect. She’d lose her own.
“I trusted Mr. Paige.” How on earth could she believe that Jason Macland, whose family name was on the bank, really wanted to help her out of a financial catastrophe?
“A lot of people did,” Jason said, “including my father.”
So he wasn’t here just to fix the bank. He also had someone he didn’t want to disappoint.
* * *
“MR. MACLAND, that was your last appointment.” Hilda was already buttoning her coat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home.”
By the time the police had left, Jason and Hilda and Fleming Harris had formed a triad—the first people Paige had found the guts to attack in person, rather than hiding behind a predatory loan. “You’re coming back tomorrow?” Jason asked.
She nodded. “As long as that man’s in the county jail.”
Which was apparently over the ridge that almost completely surrounded the town.
“You don’t happen to have Ms. Harris’s phone number?” he asked. Fleming had lingered at the edges of Jason’s mind since she’d left the office. She wasn’t the only person Paige had cheated. There was the man whose house was in danger of foreclosure, the two elderly ladies who’d retired to Bliss to open an ice cream parlor. Others, too. And all the while, Jason kept thinking of the woman who’d refused to leave a man she didn’t know when he might be in danger.
“I’ll find the number for you.” Hilda opened a file on her computer and then wrote the phone number on a slip of paper. “She must have been afraid.”
As Paige had sailed past Fleming’s shoulder, every story of workplace violence he’d ever heard had replayed in Jason’s head. His only thought had been to protect her, the innocent bystander who happened to be in his office at the worst possible time.
“I thought I’d offer to meet her somewhere else,” he said.
“That’s kind.”
Jason managed not to laugh. Kind was not a word often used to describe him.
He’d had to make hard decisions before. He normally analyzed a failing business, provided structures and policies for dragging it back into financial profit and then moved on to the next troubled company. He’d never had the slightest urge to work for his father in any of the Macland banks. His involvement now was supposed to be a favor for his grandfather, who’d actually been the one to notice something was going on in Bliss. Jason meant to be in and out, with his report sewn up by the first week in January.
He took the piece of paper. “Thanks, Hilda, and listen, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “The guy’s angry with me because I’m the one who told him he got caught.”
“I’m sure a few days in a cell will make him a lot happier.”
“We can hope he’s also cheated any attorney who’s capable of getting him bail. If you hear him coming down that hall again, jump in the nearest closet.”
“I’ve already made that plan.” She turned back to her screen. “You might try meeting Fleming at her shop. My girls and I spend a lot of time there this time of year. The Harrises put on activities for children, and Fleming’s mother makes the best hot cocoa I’ve ever tasted.”
He pushed the phone number into his pocket. “That’s a good idea. I’m curious about a place that sells holiday ornaments all year long.”
Or maybe he was curious about the owner of such a place. The year held other holidays. A smart business owner would consider diversifying. Fleming might be able to use his expertise.
* * *
FLEMING MANNED HER post behind the counter until the last of the pedestrians walking past on the sidewalk
