stupid grin left his face and one of his father’s “dark clouds” seemed to take its place. “Excuse me, Arachne. We have an important appointment.”
She pressed a hand to her ample bosom. “Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t made you late.”
Hans shook his head as he pulled on his father’s arm. “No, ma’am, but we do have to get going.”
His father looked confused. That happened a lot in recent months. “Yes, well, see you tomorrow, Arachne.”
“I look forward to it.”
Clasping his father’s arm, Hans walked rapidly in the direction of the bank building.
His father pulled back. “That was rude. I was very rude.”
Hans gazed directly in his face. “No, you weren’t. This is important. Please focus. Greta’s meeting us, and I brought my money. We have to get in there before they close.”
“Yes, right.”
Fast-walking, they covered another block and turned into the bank parking lot.
Greta paced in front of the building. She looked up. “My God, I thought they were going to arrest me for casing the bank. You’re cutting it close, guys.”
His father pulled back again, but through the windows, the big form of the bank security guy approached the entrance, probably to lock up. Hans made a dive for the door, swung it open, and pushed his father inside. Greta followed.
With a wave, Greta said, “Hi, Officer Hanks. Sorry we’re so late. Working stiffs, you know?” She grinned. Greta wasn’t a lot more social than Hans, but she could put on a pleasant front when she had to.
Officer Hanks nodded. “I’ll let you in this time.” But he smiled back. With her brown ponytail, wide blue eyes behind big glasses, and dimples, Greta was hard to resist. Hans had all the same characteristics, with lighter hair and minus the ponytail but not by much. Somehow on him, though, it came out dorky. Or that’s what the kids in school had said before he’d dropped out to take care of his mother. Of course, his father had rightfully observed that Hans could have taught the high school classes he was in, so dropping out had been a small loss, except he never got over the dork-factor.
Hans pulled his father toward the desk of the bank’s credit manager, Mr. Pender, who stared fixedly at his computer screen, fingers flying.
Pender was a nice man who’d been kind and flexible when they’d desperately needed money to pay hospital bills after his mother’s protracted illness. At that time, Hans’s father had been a solid risk and reportedly in line for the principal position at the high school.
Now, Pender looked up with the long-suffering expression of a disappointed creditor. His sigh was audible. “Slipping in under the wire again?”
Hans nodded, “Yes, sir, Mr. Pender.” He pulled the money he’d received from his music lessons, all in cash, out of his pocket and plunked it on the desk. Greta added her paycheck. Then they looked at their father. He just swallowed.
Everything in Hans’s stomach, admittedly not a lot, wanted to come up. His father had said he’d have a small stipend he received from some tutoring he could contribute to the payment. Without it, they were short. Again.
Hans swallowed down bile, forced himself to meet Pender’s accusing stare and said, “We’re just a little short, but I have three lessons tomorrow, so I’ll have it for you before close of business.”
Pender gathered up the money slowly and spoke low and tired. “We can’t keep doing this, Hans. I know you’re all trying, uh, you and Greta are trying hard, but soon it’ll be out of my hands. The bank will be forced to assume your collateral.”
The ice up his spine froze the words on Hans’s lips.
Greta leaped in. “We understand, Mr. Pender. We’ll have the balance of the payment to you tomorrow, with interest, okay?”
Pender sighed. “It’s not just this. You know that, Greta. You’re seriously in arrears. A little at a time, the shortfalls have been building up. I’ve tried to hide them and gloss them over, but I won’t be able to do it for much longer. We have an upcoming change of management at the bank.” He shook his head. “Things are going to get tougher.”
She nodded and pulled back on their father’s arm.
As Greta and their dad exited out the door, Pender held up a hand to Hans. “Hans, wait a minute.” He watched Greta disappear and then said, “I’m sorry to say this, but I can’t give you more than another ten days.”
If someone hit him with a rock,