He read through a series of emails sent between the management of the two banks, the gist of them being that Montgomery Community was willing to enter into some sort of ill-defined “arrangement” with First People’s, although whether that meant designating certain areas of town as non-competitive, agreeing not to poach each others’ customers or…something else, the emails did not make clear and Shanley did not know. The initial idea for some type of “arrangement” had been suggested by Julius Pickering of The First People’s Bank, and Coy’s job was to hear him out, learn the proposed terms, and report back. Not having any authority, he would not be able to agree to anything or enter into a deal, but would only be authorized as a messenger. Representing Montgomery Community, he was to make the bank appear strong, successful and magnanimous in its willingness to entertain such a notion, all without offending his hosts.

“I can do it,” he promised, and for the next half-hour, the manager coached him.

Giving himself ten minutes to cross town, twice what he needed, Coy drove down the highway onto Main, finding a parking spot across the street from the bank. From this angle, it had the appearance of some quaint cinematic financial institution like the Bailey Savings and Loan or the bank in Our Town. It looked reliable, trustworthy, almost homey.

But he didn’t like First People’s, and he couldn’t understand how they were able to do as well as they did with the business model they were following. Once past all the bells and whistles of their big grand opening, they still didn’t seem to be integrating well with the community. Rumor had it that the bank had turned down Dennis Whittaker for a home-improvement loan, even though, as high school principal for the past decade, he held a stable steady job, while that ne’er do well Bob White had been given money interest-free to put up a shack on that trash-strewn scrap of land he called his property.

So why was it that customers were deserting Montgomery Community for this bank? To him, it seemed destined for failure. Maybe Shanley was right, maybe they’d made a few missteps here and there, but Montgomery Community knew this town. These interlopers were just bribing people with false promises.

As much as he might believe in the merits of his own workplace, however, Coy knew he was in no position to act superior. He was here on a mercy mission, and if First People’s didn’t show them some love, they might very well end up shutting their doors.

He walked across the street and inside, past the two security guards who had thrown him out the last time he’d been here. Involuntarily, his heart rate accelerated, but he ignored the fear and pressed on, asking a thuggish-looking man at the desk nearest the door where he might find Mr. Pickering.