Page 29 of The Do-Over

Outside, my back pressed into the brick of the building, I texted Mathias to tell him I had a headache and called for a ride.

The tears didn’t come until I got home. I was pretty proud of myself for that.

TWELVE

“Hell hath no fury like a woman

who is pissed off at her man.”

—MIMI

From: Brent Tompkins

To: Perci Mayfield

Subject: (re): Approval for Mike/Shelly Granger

Perci,

After careful consideration, I don’t feel it is in the best interest of Mayfield to approve the Grangers for this loan. Please let them know with our condolences.

Thanks,

Brent

I stared at the email which had arrived Monday during my mid-morning snack (carrots and hummus to offset the kolaches I picked up on the way to work). Frowning, I reread it three times. But no matter how many times I read it, the words stayed the same.

Never once before had Brent overridden me. While I might not love my job, I was good at it. This had to be a mistake. I’d walk myself to his office and get this all sorted.

Brent’s office door was closed. I knocked and waited, gnawing on my thumbnail.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open and stepped in. Brent leaned back in his chair stationed behind his ultra-large desk. The first time Mimi had visited Mayfield, she’d taken one look at Brent’s desk and rolled her eyes. “Big desk syndrome.”

He tapped his fingers impatiently, but it was the other man in the room who spoke first.

“Good morning, Cupcake.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

Sweat beaded on my forehead. Why was it so hot in here? “I received your email about the Grangers. I think there might have been a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding. I don’t think they’re a good risk.” Brent ran a hand down his tie—a hideous shade of orangey-red.

Frowning, I took a step forward. “Look, I took my time with this couple. I’ve never been wrong, not once in three years.”

“Everyone gets it wrong once in a while.” His smile was smug.

A zing of something hot raced down my back. “Except I didn’t get it wrong this time.”

“What’s going on here?” Dad asked.

Brent shrugged. “Nothing serious. A professional disagreement.”

“He won’t approve a loan for a couple I vetted. I know they’re a good risk. They deserve this loan.”

Daddy shifted in his chair. “Well, Cupcake, Brent has more experience than you and I expect you should defer to him on this. That’s his job.”