Chapter 2 (continued)

Java Land

With coffee brewing in the background, Georgette and the smiling man made perfunctory attempts at small talk. She glared at him a couple of times, when he laughed a couple of time at how disorganized she was, while getting the coffee ready to brew.

“How can you be so cheerful this early in the morning?” she grudgingly asked.

“Morning’s the best time of day, Miss Witt. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying about the early bird and the worm.” He replied as he helped her clear off a table that had some old flowerpots on it. She had been meaning to spray paint them for the upcoming holidays, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“For Pete’s sake, call me Georgette. It’s too early in the morning to be called Miss.”

“Only if you call me Rod. I agree. It’s too early for formalities, like politeness and good humor.” He watched her slow reaction to his reprimand of her bad mood.

Georgette was appalled. “I’m sorry, Rod. It’s not been a great start of the morning. I’m embarrassed. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Apology accepted. A cup of coffee will improve your outlook on the day. I like mine black.” He motioned to the coffee pot that had finished its percolating dance.

As she poured their coffee, he spread out the work plans for the downtown project. She put his cup out of harms way, before finding a place to seat where she could view his presentation. She was eager to listen to his explanations of the details.

“I’ve got several things I want to show you today. First, the…” He looked down at the chair next to him, but it was empty. Instead she was perched on a stepladder, like a queen overlooking her subjects. The vision of Georgette’s face disappearing into the largest coffee cup he had ever seen in his life caused him to lose his train of thought. “Are you drinking straight from the coffee pot?” He asked.

She choked from laughter. “No. This was a Christmas present from Heather, one of my employees. It saves time on refills.”

“Are you comfortable on your perch?” He couldn’t contain his laughter. “You remind me of queen, sitting on her throne. At least I’ll not have to worry about keeping my head lower than yours, Highness of Java Land.”

Georgette realized she had misjudged him during their first meeting. Without Redden around, he was naturally relaxed and charming. She laughed in earnest at his humorous remarks. Their meeting spilled over into lunchtime, because he went over every detail of the renovations, even those that didn’t include her participation. When she had questions, he answered them patiently and listened with interest to observations she made.

Once everything had been covered, Rod rolled up his plans and suggested that they meet downtown one day next week. He thought that she might envision their project better if she had a real picture to work with, because according to him “sketches are impersonal.” She agreed and they arranged a time and date. After he left, she was lost in a mental review of the meeting when Heather interrupted her with news that Trip had called twice (Georgette had asked that the office hold her calls). Startled, she realized not once had she thought of him or his show since she pulled up at the gate that morning.

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Martin Schmidt

Jennifer’s morning consisted of two meetings with potential loan applicants and a trip to her dental hygienist, whose gentle touch must have been on vacation during her appointment, because her mouth was usually sore after the cleaning. When she arrived back at the bank, she wasn’t in a grand mood. Hearing Celeste’s annoying giggle as she opened the door to her office suite only fueled her mood.

A man leaned over Celeste’s desk, speaking softly and intimately to her. Jennifer frowned upon suitors visiting her personal staff members. What they did in the other bank departments was no concern of hers. She expected professionalism at all times in those working around her. Peeved, she decided to end the tête-à-tête immediately.

“Celeste, you know the policy about intimate visitors.” As she spoke, the man straightened. He was completely bald, so bald his head shined under the unflattering fluorescent lighting. Yet a neatly trimmed goatee lived on his face. Jennifer stared unflinchingly into his eyes, “In case she hasn’t explained the policy, sir, she’s not supposed to entertain visitors, no matter who they are.”

She gave Celeste an “I’ll deal with you later” look. Celeste cringed under the glare. The man’s voice arrested Jennifer. “Ms. Swann, I’m here to see you. I don’t have an appointment. It’s regarding your father’s estate.”

She stared at the business card he offered her. From the corner of her eye, she could see unveiled curiosity on Celeste’s face. Jennifer took the card. It simply read Martin Schmidt, attorney-at-law, along with his phone number, fax number and address. She looked at him and said, “No email address? Mr…Schmidt.”

“No. I’m trying to retain some of my father’s old business practices, Ms. Swann. He put much of his faith in simplicity.”

Jennifer pasted on a smile. “Charming. Shall we step inside my office, Mr. Schmidt?”

After she made sure the door was securely shut, she motioned for him to sit in a chair across from her desk. Jennifer studied the man before her. His sense of fashion impressed her. Not many men could pull off a starched red tailored shirt with navy trousers.

“Mr. Schmidt, I fear you’ve wasted a trip to my office. I’m estranged from my family. We haven’t been in contact for twenty years.”

“I’m aware of that, Ms. Swann. But I have business with you, regardless. Your brother is interested in buying out your portion of the estate. We’ve estimated its worth.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. Jennifer refused to take them.

“Sir, I’m not a part of the family any longer. Thus I’m not interested in my father’s estate. He disowned me when I was nineteen. I’m not entitled to anything.”

“He never disowned you officially. You’re still listed as an heir, Ms. Swann. That’s why I’m here. To settle the estate, now that your father’s passed on. Your brother is anxious to get this done quickly, so he can settle back into a normal life.”

Jennifer snorted. “I imagine he is! Poor little brother, worried that his racket ball games will be interrupted.” Her anger level grew. She dug her nails into her thighs until the pain cleared her head. “Leave the papers with me. I’ll have my attorney get in touch, after we’ve had a chance to peruse my brother’s generous offer.”

“As you wish, Ms. Swann. When can we expect to hear from you?”

“That depends on how generous my dear thoughtful brother is, Mr. Schmidt. Good day, Sir.”