A Difficult Woman. Jeannie Watt

arrived that morning, more to try to regain a sense of normality in his daily life than for social reasons, but the boss had quickly made it evident that she wasn’t looking for pleasantries. She wanted her porch rebuilt and that was just fine with him.

      Matt studied her striking profile for another moment as she inspected his work, and then he took a long, grateful drink of tea. It was hot for the end of May and it had been a while since he’d put in so many hours under the Nevada sun. Ten years, in fact, since he’d worked his way through college on his stepfather’s construction crew before attending the police academy.

      “How’s it going?”

      “Pretty good. I reinforced the two bad joists, but I have some work ahead of me here.” He gestured to the boards he was replacing.

      “Another day on this porch?” Tara asked.

      “Probably more like two.”

      Disappointment crossed her face.

      “All right,” she agreed, as if she had a choice in the matter. She pushed the long braid over her shoulder. “I have to go to the bank. Do you mind being here on your own?”

      “No.” To him the bigger question would have been, did she feel comfortable leaving him alone at her house? She must’ve guessed the direction of his thoughts.

      “Luke trusts you.” The simply stated fact seemed to be enough for her. “Did you bring any water?”

      “In the truck.”

      “Good.”

      Her very blue eyes held his for a moment and then she turned and went back inside, the old wooden screen door banging shut behind her.

      Matt took another swallow of tea, his eyes still on the door. Tara Sullivan was a woman of few words. He set down the glass and picked up his hammer. It didn’t really matter to him—if anything it made things easier. He was not there to make friends with her. He was there as a favor to his uncle, his former construction boss, a man who thought he was saving Matt’s life.

      TARA ALWAYS HAD the feeling when she crossed the threshold of the bank that every eye in the place was on her. The problem was that it wasn’t entirely her imagination.

      The manager of the Night Sky branch of U.S. Trust and Savings had been one of the tellers on duty at the Reno branch when her father had made his brazen attempt at easy money fifteen years ago. He never let her, or anyone else in Night Sky, forget it.

      Damn but she wished that when her aunt Laura had finally realized the house was falling down around her she’d applied for the renovation loan with an out-of-town bank. But no. She’d conducted her business locally and Tara had inherited both the house and the debt to a bank she never wanted to set foot in. And it was a huge debt. Tara’d been astounded by the amount, wondering at first how her aunt had managed to secure it at her age on such a dilapidated house. But then she’d realized just how much property values had gone up over the past decade, and decided that maybe it was the land and not the house the bank had counted on for security. The only blessing was that the interest rate had been low enough to make the payments manageable, and after today Tara hoped to continue with her low-interest payments for a very long time.

      “Miss Sullivan. Have a seat.” The manager pulled his gold pen a little closer as he spoke.

      “You are here regarding the balloon payment on your loan, due October first.” The manager raised his eyes from the paper to meet hers. Tara did her best to look friendly. He did not.

      “I met with the assistant manager last week. We talked about refinancing the last payment. I submitted my request in writing.”

      “Yes. I have it here.” The corner of the man’s mouth twitched, giving Tara the feeling that this was not going to be the slam dunk the assistant manager had indicated it would be.

      “He said that it was very common to refinance a balloon payment. Practically expected.” His exact words had been “just a technicality.”

      “That is if circumstances are the same as when the loan was secured.”

      “The circumstances can hardly be the same, since my aunt is now deceased,” Tara pointed out.

      “Exactly,” the man said. “And according to the information here, you are not currently employed.”

      His information was correct, thanks to the statewide cut in the education budget. The Elko community college now had one less English instructor on its payroll. But that didn’t mean she was without income.

      “I’m freelancing. Technical writing. I have two projects scheduled to begin next month. I’ve brought you copies of the budget. I’m certain I’ll have more work after that.”

      The manager barely glanced at the papers she set on his desk.

      “Freelancing.” From his tone, she may as well have said she was panhandling.

      “Yes. And as soon as the funding situation at the college is rectified, mine will be the first position hired back. It’s written into my contract, which I have right here.” She pulled a paper out of the stack on her lap.

      “And when might that be?”

      Tara sucked in a breath. “The HR director expects it to be within the year.”

      “I see. And, when you get your job back, is there any guarantee that it would not again be downsized in the next round of state budget cuts?”

      “No, but I will be getting another job as soon as my house is refurbished and the reunion is over.”

      “Here in Night Sky?”

      “I hope.”

      “Then you have nothing lined up.”

      Tara pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her sense of foreboding intensified.

      The manager smiled with mock regret, paused a beat, and then pushed Tara’s papers back toward her with an air of finality.

      “I don’t want to appear harsh, Miss Sullivan, but I do not believe it would be in the best interest of the bank to extend this loan under such tenuous circumstances.”

      Suddenly numb from head to toe, Tara forced herself to speak.

      “You’d get your money back, plus more interest—”

      “Your aunt got a lower interest rate by agreeing to the balloon. That was the arrangement she made, the contract she signed. When one enters into a balloon mortgage, it is with the understanding that refinancing is not guaranteed and that the entire loan balance is due on a particular date.”

      “Look—” Tara pulled in another breath, tamping down cold panic “—can’t you give me a break here? I mean, this bank loans money.” She gestured at the plastic banner stretched over the tellers’ windows, advertising second mortgage rates, just in case the little worm in front of her had forgotten. “I’m current on my payments. I’ve proven I’m trustworthy, in spite of being laid off…. I’ll pay higher interest if you’ll refinance the balloon. I don’t care. I just need to make payments.” She paused before adding with the utmost sincerity, “It will be very difficult to make the payment and keep my brother in college.” More like impossible, but he didn’t need to know that. “I can do it if you extend the mortgage.”

      The bank manager merely blinked at her, obviously unmoved.

      Tara swallowed hard. “I would really appreciate it if you’d help me with this.”

      It killed her to beg, but she’d crawl on the floor if that was what it took.

      “It might be good for your brother to go to work for a while and then continue his studies.”

      “No,” Tara replied firmly, making a supreme effort to keep her temper in check. “It might be good for him to continue his studies right now. He’s completed his sophomore year at UNLV and has just been accepted