Page 32 of The Rules We Broke
That was it. The nice gloves were coming off.
I channeled my Aunt Lu, complete with velvet fire.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d call Mr. Jackson to clear this up. I have a lot to do today, and I won’t be leaving until this is settled.”
Her face flushed red, lips tightening. She clearly had a rebuttal locked and loaded—but Aunt Lu was their biggest account holder. She knew better than to push too hard.
With visible reluctance, she picked up the phone. “Mr. Jackson, I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but Ella Lu Eaton is here and says she signed paperwork with you yesterday—placing her on Luanne Eaton’s accounts. Is that correct?”
Her face darkened two shades deeper. I’m sure she thought I was lying. Why did this town always make me feel like I was twelve?
“Yes, Mr. Jackson. Of course, Mr. Jackson.”
Click.
I smirked. Yes, childish. Still deeply satisfying.
“I apologize for the confusion, Ms. Eaton.” She turned to the teller. “Please give Ms. Eaton anything she requires.”
“An account number and twenty hundred-dollar bills, new. Please.”
As the teller quietly counted, I heard my name.
“Miss Ellie!”
I turned.
There she was—Caroline—walking hand-in-hand with her uncle, straight toward me.
Why, Brady? Why now?
I smiled at Caroline. Grimaced at Brady.
He winked.
Caroline let go of his hand and sprinted to me.
I looked up at her uncle. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard someone was causing trouble at my bank,” Brady said with a smirk, “so I came to see what I could do.”
I rolled my eyes—but smiled anyway.
Right on cue, Margaret—the cranky bank manager—stormed out in a tizzy. “Mr. Jackson, I didn’t mean for you to have to come down here.”
“It’s alright, Margaret. The paperwork not being in the system is my fault,” he said, gaze dipping toward me. “I was in town anyway and wanted to make sure Ms. Eaton was taken care of.”
He smiled at me, and I hated how warm it made me feel.
I stood, but Caroline kept a firm grip on my hand. Adorable didn’t begin to cover it.
Margaret speared me with a look that could curdle milk. She would probably phone his daddy before Brady’s truck hit the pavement.
The kind teller handed me the receipt and a sleek envelope of cash. “Have a nice day, Ms. Eaton.”
“Thank you,” I said sweetly.
I looked down at my little admirer. “Thank you for helping me last night. My Auburn tree has never looked so pretty.”
