“Yes. Tourists. I’ve been talking with some other local businessmen, and we were discussing how, for a town this size and this type of area, Montgomery has very few visitors. As you know, a lot of businesses are dependent on foot traffic, and while the people here are great, they don’t get out much. They go to work, go home—” He gestured around him. “—go to church, but their routines are pretty well set. Shops like Henry Davies’, for instance, are usually found in areas with a lot of tourists. Those businesses are not doing well. You follow what I’m saying?”

Walter nodded, though he had no idea where this was going.

“Well, we were thinking that Montgomery could use some sort of…attraction, maybe an arboretum, like Boyce-Tompkins in Superior, something impressive enough to put us on the map and attract visitors here. There’s that big plot of land on the south side of town that backs up to national forest. We were thinking that if someone bought that, developed it into an arboretum with native southwest plants, put some promotional muscle behind it, we might be able to drum up some tourist business for Montgomery. And once the word started spreading...” He opened his arms in an expansive gesture. “Maybe we’d have new shops, new restaurants, even a hotel here. Who knows?

“Now Henry and everyone don’t have any money to do something like that. They’re barely surviving. My businesses are doing well, but the investment would be substantial, and the bank doesn’t seem to want to back me. For something like this, I’m carrying too much debt. I don’t look good on paper. So I was wondering if maybe you could vouch for me with the bank. Or even set me up with other investors who might want in. Your word carries weight in this town, and I think if you supported me, it might help a lot.”

“To start an arboretum.”

“That’s right.”

Walter sighed. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea,” he admitted. “For one thing, it sounds risky to me—”

“The bank thinks it’s a good idea. And if it’s so risky, why are they putting up the money for it?”

“I thought you said—”

“That was a test, Pastor. The loan officer at the bank said that it was a waste of money for me—or anyone—to donate money to the church because you don’t know the first thing about finance. I defended you—I always liked you, Pastor. I always believed in you—but then he asked where all that money you collect goes, why there haven’t been any improvements to the church like there’s supposed to be. He’s the one who suggested I test you about money matters.”

The elation he’d felt since learning about his winnings fled, and Walter felt himself sinking into gloom. “The church’s money is in the church’s account,” he said in an effort to defend himself. “Nothing’s been done with it yet because we haven’t reached our goal. And we won’t reach our goal,” he added, “without the generous support of worshipers like yourself.”