His wife? How could that be? Coy stared at the familiar curvy body in the picture, his head spinning. Had Florine married Pickering within the past week? Or had she been married all along, even when the two of them had been dating? Had their relationship been part of some elaborate long-range plot to feed information about Montgomery Community to First People’s? None of the possibilities made any rational sense, but they were all equally awful, and he sat there, feeling like a chump, wondering how much the man in front of him knew, wondering if the banker had been behind the whole thing.

“So…” Pickering said. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Dully, Coy said what Shanley had told him to say, describing how the two banks could help each other, offering to share Montgomery Community’s local contacts and knowledge of the town with its upstart rival. It was a merger they were proposing, though Shanley had made clear that he was not to call it that. “Let them decide how to refer to it,” he’d told Coy. “It’ll make them feel like it’s their idea.”

He would have been more confident if there were a visual component, if he had graphs or charts, or a brochure to hand out, but it was evident that this entreaty was a last-minute operation, and when he’d said his piece, he sat silently awaiting a response.

Pickering didn’t react right away. He stared at a spot over Coy’s head, almost as though he were frozen, and for a second Coy was afraid he would have to repeat the whole spiel because the man hadn’t been listening. But then Pickering turned the framed photo around to face him and told Coy, “You’ve given me something to think about. Let us mull things over. Talk amongst ourselves. We’ll let you know our decision by the end of the week.”

Coy nodded.

He hazarded one last glance at the back of the frame, saw in his mind the photo of a spreadeagled Florine.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

A touch of annoyance had crept into Pickering’s voice, and Coy quickly shook his head. He didn’t want to queer the deal because he’d overstayed his welcome. “No,” he said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Pickering’s eyes bored into his. “Good. Now get the fuck out of here before I have my guards toss you out on your ass again.”

2

Girls’ night out.