Syndi Powell - The Sweetheart Deal

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.”