Just then the bank door opens and the security guard sees her sprawled on the ground. He looks at the man hurrying away from her; his fists clench and it’s clear that he senses something has just happened.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks.
Rachel coughs and pulls herself together. “I’m fine, I guess. I, uh, took a spill.”
The security guard offers her his hand and helps her to her feet.
“Thank you,” she says and winces in pain.
“Are you sure you’re OK, ma’am?” he asks.
“Yes, fine!”
The security guard looks at her oddly for a moment and again at the man hurrying away. She can tell that he’s wondering if she’s some kind of shill in a bank-robbery attempt. His hand drifts toward his gun.
“Thank you so much,” she says. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I’m not used to heels. So much for making a good impression at the bank!”
The guard relaxes. “No one saw you but me,” he says. “I don’t know how you walk in those things.”
“This is a joke I tell my daughter: ‘What do you call a dinosaur in high heels?’”
“What?”
“‘My-feet-are-saurus.’ She never laughs. She never laughs at my dumb jokes.”
The guard smiles. “Well, I think it’s funny.”
“Thank you again,” Rachel says. She fixes her hair, goes inside the bank, and asks to see Colin Temple, the manager.
Temple’s an older guy who used to live out on the island before moving into town. He and Rachel had attended each other’s barbecues, and Marty had gone fishing with him on his boat. Colin hadn’t screwed her over the couple of times she had missed mortgage payments since the divorce.
“Rachel O’Neill, as I live and breathe,” he says with a grin. “Oh, Rachel, why do birds suddenly appear every time that you’re near?”
Because they’re actually carrion crows and I’m one of the goddamn undead, she thinks but doesn’t say. “Good morning, Colin, how are you?”
“I’m fine. What can I do for you, Rachel?”
She swallows the pain of the gut punch and forces a half smile onto her lips. “I’m in a bit of trouble, and I wonder if we can have a talk.”
They repair to the manager’s office, which is decorated with yacht pictures and tiny intricate model boats that Colin has made himself. There are several photos of a snot-nosed King Charles spaniel that she can’t for the life of her remember the name of. Colin leaves the door a little bit ajar and sits behind his desk. Rachel sits opposite and tries to put a pleasant expression on her face.
“What can I do to help?” Colin asks, still pretty cheery but with suspicion creeping into his eyes.
“Well, it’s the house, Colin. That roof above the kitchen is leaking and I had a contractor in yesterday and he said the whole thing will have to be replaced before it snows or it all might come down.”
“Really? It looked OK last time I was out there.”
“I know. But it’s the original roof. From the 1930s. And it leaks every winter. And now it’s just a danger. To us, I mean. To me and Kylie. And also, you know, to the house. You guys have the mortgage and if the house was destroyed, your asset wouldn’t be worth anything,” she says and even manages a little fake laugh.
“How much does your contractor say he’ll need?”
Rachel had thought about asking for the full twenty-five thousand but that seems ridiculous for a roof job. She has nothing in her savings account, but she can charge ten grand on her Visa. She’ll worry about paying off the bill when Kylie is home safe.
“Fifteen thousand. But it’s fine, Colin, I’m good for it. I’m starting a new job in January,” she says.
“Oh?”
“I’ve been hired to teach some classes at Newburyport Community College. Introduction to Modern Philosophy. Existentialism, Schopenhauer, Wittgenstein, all that good stuff.”
“Finally using that degree, eh?”
“Yeah. Look, I’ve brought the employment contract and the full salary details. It’s not much but it’s a steady paycheck and it’s more than I was getting as an Uber driver. Things are really going great for us now, Colin—just, you know, apart from the roof,” she says as she hands over the documents.
Colin examines the paperwork and then looks up and examines her. He knows something is wrong. She probably looks awful. Wizened, thin, worried. Like someone whose breast cancer has returned or who is in the final stages of a methamphetamine death spiral.
His eyes narrow. His mood changes. He shakes his head. “I’m afraid we can’t defer any more payments and we can’t add anything to the original loan. I wouldn’t be allowed to do that. I have very little discretion in these matters.”
“A second mortgage, then,” she says.
He shakes his head again. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but your house isn’t a safe enough asset for that. To be brutally honest, it’s just a glorified beach shack, isn’t it? And you’re not even really on the beach.”
“We’re on the tidal basin. It’s waterfront property, Colin.”
“I’m very sorry. I know you and Marty talked for years about remodeling it, but you never did, did you? It’s not properly winterized, there’s no central air.”
“The land itself, then. Property prices have been going up around here.”
“You’re on the unfashionable western side of Plum Island, not the Atlantic side. You face the marshes and you’re in the flood zone. I’m sorry, Rachel, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“But, but…I have this new job.”
“This employment contract at the community college is only for one semester. You’re a bad risk for the bank—you can see that, can’t you?”
“You know I’m good for it,” she insists. “You know me, Colin. I’m almost always on time. I pay my debts. I work hard.”
“Yes. But that’s not the issue.”
“And what about Marty? He’s a junior partner now. I’ve been letting him slide on the child-support payments because of Tammy’s bankruptcy, but—”
“Tammy?”
“His new girlfriend.”
“She went bankrupt?”
Crap, Rachel thinks. She knows this information will not help her case, so she tries to rush through it.
“Oh, it’s nothing. She had a chocolate store in Harvard Square, and it went under. She’s not a businesswoman. I think she’s only about twenty-five or—”
“How do you lose money selling chocolate in the munchies capital of New England?”
“I don’t know. Look, Colin. We’re old friends. And I…I need this. I need it as soon as possible. It’s an emergency.”
Colin leans back in his chair.
Rachel sees him turning all this over. He’s probably learned how to spot a liar…
“I’m sorry, Rachel, I really am. If you’re looking for a contractor, I can recommend Abe Foley. He’s honest and he does a good job fast. That’s all I can do.”
Rachel nods. “Thank you,” she says meekly and, thoroughly defeated, exits his office.