"I've already filled one out." Liv pulled a completed application from her purse and placed it down on the young man's desk. "I stopped by yesterday and picked it up."

"We will be discussing personal items such as income and net worth, Ms. Jefferson," Trip explained as he opened the application. "Would you rather your friend waited in the lobby?"

"You can say anything you want in front of her. She's a good friend," Liv said quietly, patting Angela's hand.

Trip's eyes followed Liv's fingers. "You've checked the unmarried box. Have you ever been married?"

"Yes."

"Divorced?"

"Yup."

"How many times?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

"It's just a standard question."

"No, it's not. The form simply asks if I'm divorced, not how many times." She sniffed. "But I will tell you that I am neither receiving nor paying alimony."

"We'll check that out."

"I'm sure you will."

"If it's even necessary," he added quietly.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason," Trip answered nonchalantly. "It says here that the house you want to buy is going to cost nine hundred and fifty thousand," he said, scanning the information on the pages.

"Yes, that's right."

"Why would you want to spend that much on a house out here? Wouldn't you be happier in the Fan? We've got a couple of branches down there. I'd be happy to call one of those managers and set you up with an appointment. If the real estate broker you're working with now doesn't cover that area, I'm sure we could help you find another one who does."

"I live there now," Liv answered calmly. "I'm moving out here."

"What broker are you working with at this point?" Trip asked, pulling a notepad from a drawer.

"A friend at one of the bigger firms."

"Which firm?"

"Does that really matter? I'd rather focus on getting this mortgage, if you don't mind."

"Okay, okay," Trip agreed, putting down his pen. He scanned the application. "You claim on here that you are going to be able to put80 percent down. With closing costs that would amount to more than seven hundred thousand dollars."

"I'm well aware of that."

Trip's eyes flashed to another section of the application. "This says that you currently rent an apartment, so you have no existing home equity. And you've listed savings of under a hundred thousand dollars." He looked up. "How exactly do you plan on coming up with a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment?"

"If you must know, a wealthy relative of mine died recently. I'll be inheriting close to a million dollars in a few weeks."

"A million dollars?"he asked loudly. "Wow. How did your relative come into that kind of money?"

"None of your business," Angela cut in.

Trip gave Angela an irritated glance, then reached for a calculator and punched a few b.u.t.tons. When he was finished, he grimaced.

"What's wrong?" Liv asked.

Trip smiled stiffly. "Nothing."

Liv smiled too, aware of the young lending officer's dilemma. "I make over a hundred thousand dollars a year," she pointed out, "which you can easily verify. I can handle the monthly mortgage payment, including real estate taxes."

Trip rubbed his eyes as if he were developing a migraine. "Real estate is a tricky a.s.set to invest in, Ms. Jefferson. Are you sure you want to put the majority of your inheritance into property right now? These are uncertain economic times. Why not be safe and invest the money in a more conservative vehicle? Say, a certificate of deposit."

It was clear to Angela that the young man was trying to divert Liv away from the West End. The issue for Angela was whether he was doing it on his own-or if he'd been told to do it. "Why are you trying so hard to get my friend to reconsider purchasing this home? Is there something going on here we should know about?"

Trip stared at Angela for several moments, then shook his head, as if he were reminding himself of a certain part of his training manual. "Not at all," he answered politely, picking up his pen again and checking the rest of the application. "I notice you haven't filled out the 'Race/National Origin' box here on the bottom of page 3."

"I believe that's optional," Liv replied.

"Yes, it is," Angela agreed, "but you'll want to fill it in."

"No, I don't."

"If you don't, he will," Angela reminded Liv. "Right?" she asked, looking at Trip for confirmation.

He nodded. "That's correct."

"Oh. Well, then, let me have your pen."

"Press firmly," Angela encouraged, pointing subtly at the box marked "White, not of Hispanic origin." Liv glanced up, questioning the direction, but Angela tapped it again and Liv checked the box.

When she was finished, Trip took the application and stood up. "Someone will be back to you in a few days, Ms. Jefferson. Thanks for coming in."

A half hour later they were back downtown, almost to the Sumter Tower.

"I still can't believe that guy," Angela said angrily.

"People think the world has changed so much in the last few decades," Liv said, coasting to a stop in front of the bank's plaza. "But it really hasn't."

"You're right. It hasn't."

"Why did you have me fill in the 'white' box?" Liv asked.

"You conducted your experiment, and I'm conducting mine."

"Okay. Well, sorry about not getting anything to eat. But you wanted to get back."

Angela stepped out of the Accord, then turned and leaned back down into the car. "No problem. I'm not that hungry anyway. See you later." She closed the door and waved as Liv drove off.

"h.e.l.lo, Angie."

Angela spun around at the sound of her name. Sam Reese stood a few feet away. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"A little family business," Sam explained, pointing over his shoulder at the bank. "Despite my father's intense dislike for your chairman, he still believes that Sumter is the safest place around for the family's liquid a.s.sets." Sam hesitated. "You look great, Angie. Not that you don't always. You do. Just extra special today." He raised one eyebrow and gave her a suggestive smile.

There was that feeling again, the one she always got when Sam looked at her that way. "Thanks."

"Got time for a cup of coffee?" he asked.

Angela shook her head. "Sorry."

"Come on. I want to talk to you about Hunter."

"Talk to me right here."

"All right. How would you like to see him again this weekend?"

Angela's heart jumped. "This weekend? But I just saw him. I mean, of course I want to, but-"

"He had a great time with you last weekend," Sam interrupted. "He was missing you last night. Crying a little."

Angela felt a lump in her throat instantly, and she looked away. "How could you arrange for me to see him, Sam? Your father would be furious."

"You let me worry about my father. The question is, do you want to see Hunter this weekend?"

"Of course I do."

"Then we'll do it. I'll make the arrangements and call you at work later in the week."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I told you I wanted us to have a better relationship. That starts with your getting to see Hunter more. I understand that."

She looked up at him. "I can't believe you're doing this for me."

Sam shrugged. "I'm not as bad a guy as you think I am, Angie." He leaned forward, took her hand, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "Talk to you later."

Angela watched him walk away. He hadn't asked for anything in return. No quid pro quo. Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't as bad as she thought he was. Or maybe he just wasn't as bad as he used to be.

When Sam turned the corner, she hurried for the front door. She'd been gone almost two hours. Ken Booker seemed to be watching her closely these days, and he wouldn't be happy about her taking so long a lunch.

As she sat down behind her desk, Booker appeared from his office, headed toward the elevators. He gave her a long look as she answered the telephone that had been ringing as she'd walked on to the floor.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Ms. Day?"

"Yes," she answered, trying to place the voice.

"This is Carter Hill."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Mr. Hill." Angela glanced around quickly, hoping no one else on the floor had heard her say his name. She didn't want people knowing that she was in direct contact with the bank's president. That could generate questions she didn't want to answer right now. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'd like to have a quick chat with you. If you don't mind, of course."

"Not at all. I'll come right up to the fiftieth floor. Will we be meeting in your office or Mr. Dudley's?"

Hill hesitated. "Um, let's meet in the lobby on the twenty-seventh floor instead. See you in five minutes."

The phone clicked in Angela's ear. Slowly, she hung up the receiver, then reached for the bank directory. There were no listings for anyone on twenty-seven.

A few minutes later the elevator door opened on the twenty-seventh floor and Angela stepped cautiously out of the car, glancing back over her shoulder as the doors slid shut behind her. The lobby was dimly lit and quiet, clearly unoccupied. This couldn't be good. She turned around and reached for the elevator b.u.t.ton.

"h.e.l.lo, Angela."

"Oh, G.o.d." Angela turned around quickly as Carter Hill emerged from the shadows.

"Sorry to startle you," he apologized.

"No, that's all right."

"I realize this may seem a bit unusual."

"Well, yes, it does."

"I just didn't want Bob Dudley to see us speaking."

"Why not?" she asked suspiciously.

Hill moved closer, until they were only a few feet apart. "I wanted to follow up on something you said this morning when the three of us were together in his office."

"What was that?"

"You said that Jake Lawrence had asked if you thought I would make a good chairman."

"That's right," she agreed hesitantly. "He did."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I thought you were more of a consensus builder than Mr. Dudley. I also told him that my opinion didn't matter much because I didn't know you that well."

"But you're right, Ms. Day," Hill said quickly. "I am a consensus builder. I do care what others think." He locked eyes with her. "I'm not like Bob Dudley."

"That's obvious."