The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,132
I want to take care of everything today, even if the funds aren’t live until Monday.”
Lizzie was going to work with Greta to get a handle on the staffing this morning, and hopefully they could sort everything out and get people transitioning off the payroll immediately. The faster they could cut employees, the fewer expenses they were going to need to cover.
“But of course, Mr. Baldwine.” The manager began typing on her keyboard. “I’ll need some identification, and tell me, where are the funds coming from?”
From out of nowhere, he heard Jeff’s voice in his head: I’m investing in your little bourbon company.
Hell, if his friend could write a check, so could he. And there were more funds he could pull from his trust if he had to, but he was going to have to start selling stock after this. The key was making sure he kept Easterly’s roof over his mother’s head, the skeleton crew they were going to retain on the estate paid, food in the pantry, and the electricity and the running water on. Oh, and Sutton Smythe’s mortgage payments needed to be covered, too.
After that? Everything was nonessential until they got this all worked out.
As he handed over his driver’s license and his account number at J. P. Morgan, she smiled. “Very well, Mr. Baldwine. I’ll be happy to take care of this for you right away.”
Lane left the bank about twenty minutes later. He’d signed everything he had to, initiated the transfer, and called Lizzie to give her the update. Sorting through the direct deposits was going to be a thing, and Lizzie was going to let the bank manager know who was staying on and who was getting let go—
Lane stopped in the middle of the parking lot.
Standing right next to his car, with a mountain bike by his side and a way-too-old look on his face … was Rosalinda Freeland’s son.
Lizzie ended her call with Lane and took a seat in the first chair in the controller’s office that caught her eye. It wasn’t until she put her hands on the padded arms and leaned back … that she realized it was the armchair Rosalinda Freeland had been found dead in.
Bursting back up to her feet, she brushed at the seat of her pants even though the slipcover had been removed and the pillows cleaned.
“So what do you think?” she asked Greta.
The German looked up from the laptop on Rosalinda’s old desk. Like the rest of the office, which was as cheerful and light-filled as a gopher hole, the desk was free of non-functionals, nothing but a lamp, a pen holder full of blue Bics, and an in-box on the blotter.
Likewise, there had been no personal effects to remove after the passing. And not because the woman had emptied the place of them prior to the tragedy.
“She kept very good records, ja.” Behind a set of bright pink, round-as-bubbles reading glasses, pale blue eyes were alert and focused. “Come see. Iz all the goods.”
Lizzie went around and peered over her partner’s shoulder. There was a chart on the laptop screen of names, contact information, hourly rates, and bonuses. Scrolling to the left, Greta was able to show everything that had been paid out to anyone for the previous five years, month by month.
“Very good. This is very good.” Greta removed her glasses and sat back. “I call out names, you tell me what we do vis them.”
“How many people are there?”
Greta reached out to the mouse and scrolled. Scrolled. Scrolled.
Annnnnnnd scrolled.
And still with the scrolling.
“Seventy-sree. No. Seventy-two.”
“Wow. Okay, let’s go through them one by one.” Lizzie grabbed a white pad that had EASTERLY embossed across the top and then snagged one of the Bics. “I’ll take notes.”
Greta held up her hand. “I will stop. Taking salary, that is. Put me down, top of zee list.”
“Greta, listen—”
“No, Jack and I have no need for me to work. My kids, they’re gone, they’re on their own. I had the salary because I deserved it and I still do. But right now?” Greta pointed to the screen. “These are in need of money more. I still work, though. What else would I do?”
Lizzie took a deep breath. With her having paid off her farm, she had decided to stop accepting money for the short term as well, but that felt different.
This was her family now.
“We’ll pay you,” she said, “in arrears when we can.”