Barefoot Season by Susan Mallery Read Free Book Online Page A

vague. Blond, she thought. Nordic. Miles had been popular, Ellen less so.
“I remember,” Michelle said, going for polite rather than accurate.
“I just want to say I think what you did is wonderful. Serving our country that way. This probably sounds strange, but thank you.”
Michelle opened her mouth, then closed it.
What was she supposed to say in return? Her reasons for joining had been far from altruistic, and now that she was back she wanted to slip into normal, to pretend it had never happened. Hardly actions worthy of thanks.
“Ah, you’re welcome.”
“Now that you’re home, I’m assuming you’re going to be taking over the inn?”
“Yes.”
“Good. As you may know, the bank has two notes on the property. A first and a second mortgage.” Ellen’s tone had shifted from friendly to business. “We should talk about them as soon as possible. Is ten-thirty good for you?”
A second mortgage? When had that happened? At least it explained the second monthly payment, but why?
She closed her eyes and saw the new roof, the larger restaurant, then swore silently. Her mother had been in charge—it was the gift that kept on giving.
“Ten-thirty this morning?”
“Yes. I have some time then.”
It wasn’t as if Michelle had anything else to do. “I’ll be there.”
“I look forward to it.”
* * *
     
Island Savings and Loan stood in the center of town. The once-thriving business district had been taken over by stores and restaurants that catered to tourists rather than locals. Most of the companies that served locals had been eased toward the outskirts of town, but the Savings and Loan stood where it had for nearly a hundred years.
Michelle parked in front, then walked through the glass doors—one of the few concessions to modern times. The rest of the building was brick, with hardwood floors and a mural completed in the 1940s.
There was no security guard, and if she ignored the high-tech cameras mounted on the walls, she could almost pretend she was a kid again, going to the bank with her dad.
An older woman stood in front of a lone teller. Otherwise, there didn’t seem to be any other customers. Michelle glanced around at the offices lining the walls, then walked toward the one with Ellen’s name stenciled on a wood-and-glass door.
She knocked on the open door.
Ellen looked up, then smiled and stood. “Michelle, thanks so much for coming in. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks.”
She did her best not to limp as she entered the small space. Her T-shirt and cargo pants had seemed fine back at the inn, but here, with Ellen, she felt underdressed and grubby.
The other woman was as thin as she’d been back in high school. Long blond hair hung past her shoulders. Hazel eyes were framed with discreet makeup. Pearls, probably real, sat on top of a light green twin set. Low heels and a black knee-length pencil skirt completely Ellen’s “I’m a banker, trust me” look.
As Michelle took the offered seat, she tried to remember if she’d bothered to comb her hair that morning. She’d showered, so she was clean, but her lone concession to grooming had been to brush her teeth.
“I was so sorry to hear about your mother,” Ellen said gently, waiting until Michelle sat before resuming her place behind her desk and leaning forward. “It must have been difficult for you. I heard you’d been injured around the same time. It’s not fair, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
Ellen sighed. “The loss and being hurt. Now this.” She motioned to the slim file on her desk.
Michelle stared at the closed folder. “What do you mean?”
The other woman pressed her lips together, as if considering her words. “Have you had a chance to go through the finances of the inn?”
Michelle regretted leaving the vodka bottle in her motel room. Right now a drink seemed like a smart move. “No. I’d only been in a few minutes when you called.”
“Then let me bring you up to speed.” She opened the file. “I really hate to be the