Familiar Stranger In Clear Springs. Kathryn Albright
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She did mind actually. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of an afternoon off. “Three out of the five are sold. Mr. Cornwall wants one. They were an excellent idea.”
He hunkered down again over the book for the next ten minutes, his muddy-brown hair falling forward over his forehead.
Finally, he folded his notes and tucked them in his pocket. He stood, shoved his arms into his new coat and plopped his derby on his head. “Do you have last year’s ledger?”
The request was an odd one. “In the back room.”
“Will you get it for me?”
She nodded and turned to do his bidding. What was going on?
In the storage room, she opened an old trunk against the wall and removed the top ledger. There was one for every year her family had owned the mercantile, twenty in all. She returned to Terrance and handed him the book.
“Will you be back before you leave town? I’ll put the kettle on for tea.”
“Not today. I want to return to the city before dark.” He tucked the ledger under his arm.
Always busy. Always in a hurry.
“Elizabeth...since I’m campaigning for office, I’ll expect your support.”
“Of course.” She agreed quickly, delighted that he had asked. Then she realized he hadn’t asked—he’d told her. “What would you have me do?”
“I’m not talking about signs and flyers, although I do want your help there, too. It is important to keep up appearances. To do that, I really need you to move into San Diego and run my store there.”
She lowered her shoulders. “Terrance, we’ve gone over this territory before.”
He quickly held up his hand. “I realize you prefer this town. Why? I don’t know. But you’ve done a fair job here of turning this store around from the brink of loss. It’s sustaining itself now, often with a growing margin of profit. It’s time to sell and get it off our hands for good.”
“You are pushing this again? Why?”
“I told you. I need help with my store. And...I need the money from this place for my campaign.”
“But, Terrance! You’ve taken fifty percent of the profits from here for the past three years! Don’t you have enough to campaign on your own or hire someone for your store?”
“I put all that money back into my place. It’s not available for a campaign.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t want to sell.”
“You’re being sentimental. This place is just wood and nails.”
“It is more than that, and you know it.” This was the family store. Her legacy from her mother and father...and her livelihood.
Exasperation filled his countenance. “Granted, you’ve had a good run here but things happen. And—” he hesitated slightly before continuing “—you may not have a choice.”
A chill went through her. This was new. She rubbed her upper arms and moved closer to the woodstove. “What do you mean—‘things happen’? What has happened?”
“Things are a bit tight with the bank right now.”
Why was the bank even involved? Unless... “Terrance. What have you done?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“This is my store, my responsibility, my...livelihood.”
“It’s not your mercantile.” The look in his eyes was flat, unemotional.
“Oh, Terrance. What have you done?” She suddenly felt ill and slowly lowered herself into the chair. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He’d bought a new suit, after all. Still, he’d done things before without consulting her. She took a deep breath. “I think I have a right to know. How tight is it?”
“They want the store.”
Shock gripped her. “What!”
His brown eyes hardened. “They want the building to cover the loan I took out four years ago.”
She couldn’t believe it! After all her hard work to save the store. Sleepless nights and doing without, long hours and loneliness over the past four years. She’d saved it only to have her brother plunge them into debt?
“So that’s why Sam stopped by two days ago.” At the time, Sam had been so pleasant. The snake! All the time he’d been planning to sweep the rug right out from under her. How could he do this? How could Terrance have let this happen?
Yet even now her brother had tried to make her believe that she would be helping him, that it would be her decision to move, all in an attempt to save face. Apparently he hadn’t counted on her digging in her heels.
“That’s why you need last year’s ledger. That’s why you and Sam were arguing this morning. You weren’t going to tell me, were you? If I hadn’t refused, you would have made me believe I was doing it for your career.”
Terrance shrugged. “I’d hoped you would see things my way and move to the city. It would have been less...emotional...that way. You wouldn’t have needed to know any of this.”
She no longer wanted to hear him. This was her store! She was the one who cared about it and the people she served. Yet, from what he said, it was futile to argue. Numbness started at her feet and crept up and over her. She rubbed her forehead. “If what you say is true, then how much time do I have?”
“A month.” He took hold of the door handle again, preparing to leave. “So you see, your desire to travel comes at a poor time as well as Barrington’s unwelcome appearance. I’ll talk to you more about all this next week when I have figures from the bank. Oh...and Sam may contact you to sign papers.”
“That’s the real reason you didn’t want me to leave town—so I’d be around to manage the sale, around to sign papers and start packing,” she said dully.
His brown eyes held no compassion, only a slight irritation that this had to be talked about at all. He really didn’t care that he’d upended her entire life...that he’d hurt her. “No need to start packing yet. There will be time for that later. Sell as many items as possible—but only lower prices fifteen percent at most. It will make the final inventory go faster.”
“I see you have it all figured out.” She was proud of her composure. On the inside she felt overwhelmed. It must be the numbness helping. All her worries that had revolved around Tom Barrington suddenly seemed shadowy and vague compared to the very real loss of her livelihood.
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