“Then tell me what delayed you.”
Elaine stared.
“I don’t owe you an explanation of my schedule.”
“No.”
Walter’s voice remained low.
“But you do owe me an honest answer about whether you ever intended to meet with me.”
Her expression hardened.
“That accusation is inappropriate.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
Brittany arrived in the doorway behind him.
“Sir, I asked you not to come back here.”
Walter did not turn.
Elaine stood.
“You need to lower your voice.”
“My voice is lower than yours.”
That stopped her.
Walter continued.
“I sat in that lobby while people walked in after me and were brought back first.”
“Different clients have different needs.”
“I understand that.”
“Then—”
“I also understand I watched you take a man who didn’t have an appointment while I’d already been waiting an hour and a half.”
Elaine’s cheeks reddened.
“He had time-sensitive business.”
“Five minutes.”
“Yes.”
“He stayed seventeen.”
“That is none of your concern.”
“It became my concern when his seventeen minutes were apparently worth more than my two hours.”
Elaine folded her arms.
“Mr. Jennings, if your intention is to obtain financing from this institution, this is not helping.”
The sentence changed the room.
Walter stared at her.
Not because he misunderstood.
Because he understood perfectly.
His loan.
His behavior.
The implication that continued access to one depended on obedience regarding the other.
Walter’s voice became quieter.
“Are you telling me my loan application depends on whether I complain about how you treated me?”
Elaine’s face changed.
Brittany looked down.
“That is not what I said.”
“It sounded like it.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“No, ma’am.”
Walter picked up the briefcase.
“I’m giving you a chance to hear them.”
A man’s voice came from the corridor.
“Walter Jennings?”
Walter turned.
A tall man in his early sixties stood several yards away wearing a navy suit with understated gold cufflinks.
Gray at the temples.
Lean face.
Sharp eyes.
He held a folder beneath one arm.
Walter recognized him after a moment.
“Donovan Shaw.”
Donovan smiled slightly.
“I thought that was you.”
Elaine’s posture changed immediately.
“Mr. Shaw.”
Regional director.
Walter had met Donovan twice.
Once at an agricultural lending forum in Sevierville nearly seven years earlier.
Again at a cattlemen’s association dinner when Evergreen Ridge sponsored a youth livestock program.
They were not friends.
But Donovan remembered people.
“Walter, I thought Thomas Mercer handled your account.”
“Retired.”
“That’s right.”
Donovan looked at the open office.
Then Walter’s briefcase.
Then Elaine.
“What’s going on?”
Elaine answered first.
“Mr. Jennings became frustrated with a scheduling delay and entered the private office area without authorization.”
Accurate.
Incomplete.
Donovan looked at Walter.
“Is that what happened?”
Walter nodded.
“Part of it.”
“Tell me the rest.”
Elaine started:
“Donovan, I can explain—”
He lifted one hand.
“I’m asking Walter.”
That small gesture shifted everything.
Walter hated how relieved he felt simply to have someone ask.
He explained.
Arrival.
Appointment.
Wait.
Other customers.
Repeated questions.