Coulter nodded.
Adeline drove to Mae’s house.
She bought groceries on the way.
For the first time since arriving in Bitter Creek, she did not check her bank balance while standing in the store aisle.
That small relief nearly made her cry.
She did not.
Not yet.
Miles Donovan arrived three weeks later.
His truck announced him before he entered.
New GMC Sierra Denali.
Lifted.
Black paint polished beyond anything practical in Montana mud.
Donovan was fifty-two, handsome in a commercial way, with expensive boots that had never met an oil puddle.
He owned Donovan Motor & Service, a regional chain with four locations across western Montana and plans for more.
Coulter knew him.
Did not like him.
Donovan entered carrying a leather portfolio.
“Briggs.”
“Donovan.”
His eyes moved toward Adeline.
“And you are?”
“Busy.”
Donovan smiled.
“That’s refreshing.”
Adeline did not.
Coulter wiped his hands.
“What do you want?”
Donovan walked slowly through the bay.
“Still keeping this place alive.”
“That was the plan.”
“I heard the bank was getting impatient.”
Coulter’s face hardened.
“Small town.”
“People talk.”
“People who discuss private banking relationships usually lose jobs.”
Donovan laughed.
“Relax.”
“I’m here to help.”
He placed the portfolio on the counter.
Inside was a purchase proposal.
Building.
Customer list.
Equipment.
Business name.
Coulter glanced at the first page.
Then closed it.
“No.”
“You didn’t read it.”
“Don’t need to.”
“It’s generous.”
“No.”
“Your property isn’t worth what I’m offering.”
“Then you’re making a bad investment.”
Donovan leaned against the counter.
“You know what happens when winter hits.”
“Three slow months.”
“Heating costs.”
“Parts.”
“Customers delaying repairs until tax refunds.”
“You’re carrying debt.”
“You’ve got one bay producing.”
“An apprentice three days a week.”
“And now, apparently, an office manager you can’t afford.”
Adeline looked up.
Coulter said:
“Careful.”
Donovan smiled.
“I’m not insulting her.”
“I’m doing arithmetic.”
“So am I,” Adeline said.
Donovan turned.
She continued.
“And your offer values the real estate but assigns almost nothing to the customer base, equipment goodwill, or active contracts.”
His smile weakened slightly.
“You read quickly.”
“I used to read purchase agreements for a living.”
“What kind?”
“Manufacturing.”
“Interesting.”
Coulter closed the folder.
“No.”
Donovan studied him.
“You know pride doesn’t count as collateral.”
“Good thing I wasn’t planning to borrow against it.”
Donovan picked up the proposal.
“Six months.”
“What?”
“That’s my prediction.”
“You’ll call me before spring.”
He left.
Coulter watched the truck disappear.
Adeline said:
“He knows too much.”
“About?”
“The loan.”
“Everybody knows I owe the bank.”
“Not everybody should know you’re late.”
Coulter dismissed it.
“Eleanor’s known me since I was twelve.”
“She wouldn’t talk.”
“Then someone else did.”
“Or Donovan guessed.”
Adeline did not think so.
Ten days later, their oldest parts supplier called.
The commercial account had been placed under review.
No further net-thirty orders.
Cash payment required.
Coulter drove there personally.
Came back furious.