Maggie already had her handbag over her shoulder and was putting on her shoes. “Uh-huh. Goulash. My people tell me it’s like Mom’s home cooking. It’s called Sallie’s. Crusty homemade bread and every cobbler under the sun for dessert. Is there a reason you want to go out to lunch, Lizzie?” Maggie whispered as they stood by the elevator.

“More or less,” Lizzie said, unaware of the stir she was creating just by being herself.

Marveling at the way Lizzie tripped along in her spikes, Maggie cursed herself for wearing her high heels instead of her sneakers.

Sallie’s proved to be a small, quaint food emporium that didn’t serve alcohol, but the delectable aromas more than made up for the absence of a liquor license. It was still early into the lunch hour, so the two women were shown to a table immediately.

Once seated, Maggie looked around, and said, “I like it. It’s not too big, and it’s like eating in your mom’s kitchen. I really like it, and I sure hope the food lives up to the reviews I’ve heard. Guys for some reason know good food when they eat it. Small menu, that’s a plus, makes choosing something so much easier. What looks good to you, Lizzie?”

“Caesar salad, I guess, ice tea, and I might try the blackberry cobbler. What looks good to you, Maggie?” Lizzie twinkled.

“Everything.” Maggie sighed as she finally made her decision to go with a double order of goulash and gave her order to a pink-cheeked woman with curly white hair.

“Now, Lizzie,” Maggie said as she leaned across the table, “tell me why we’re here and what I can do to help whatever you have in mind.”

Lizzie leaned forward until the two women were almost nose to nose. “First things first, you have to call the mountain to okay this. Text me as soon as you get an okay. Now, tell me what you think of this…”

Chapter 10

Lizzie Fox sashayed across the lobby of East Coast Savings to a small area that proclaimed it to be the bank’s information center. She held out her business card and handed it to the preppy-looking guy seated behind a desk whose nameplate said he was Gerald La Blanc. In the blink of an eye, Lizzie’s assessment was that he was a fussy little twit. She offered up a dazzling smile and remained standing even though the twit stood and motioned for her to take a seat. She remained standing, waiting to see what La Blanc would do. She knew the man’s dilemma immediately. Remain standing, and customers in the bank would see she towered over him. Man versus woman, and woman wins. If he sat down, she would still tower over him. First adversarial rule was to have the upper hand. Standing gave one an advantage, seated you were at the standee’s mercy.

La Blanc twittered a moment, his gaze sweeping the austere bank lobby. “How can I help you, Miss Fox?”