A Thousand Little Blessings (20 page)

Etta squeezed her father's left hand and said a quick blessing over her breakfast. With such an auspicious beginning to her day, maybe this evening's meeting wouldn't be so dreadful after all.

 

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“Here's the lemonade,” Carolina said as she set the glass pitcher into a large bowl of chipped ice. “I'll bring in another pitcher with water. Where are the sandwiches?”

“Here.” Etta lifted the white linen napkins covering plates of finger sandwiches and an assortment of cookies from Hoffmann's Bakery. “I think we have everything.”

Carolina straightened a stack of papers on the conference room table. “The board members will be here soon. I'd better get that water.” She bustled out of the room.

Etta took one last inventory of the documents she'd prepared. All she had to do now was remember Gabriel's advice. What would a confident man do in this situation? Stand up, present the facts, and answer questions honestly and thoroughly. This was no time to shrink back into the quiet helper who'd sat at her father's elbow, ready to jump at his smallest request.

Judge Thompson, dressed in his usual dark suit and tie, was the first board member to enter the conference room. “Evening, Henrietta. Got everything ready I see.”

“Good evening, Judge. Can I get you anything?”

He hung his hat on the rack near the door. “A nice, cool glass of that lemonade would hit the spot. How's your father?”

Etta filled a glass and handed it to him. “Better and better every day. Thank you for asking.”

He settled himself into a chair at the head of the rectangular oak table. “I've got to get out to your place soon and let him know everything here is under control.”

Etta bit her bottom lip.

Judge Thompson might change his mind after he learned the contents of her reports.

William Clark and Edgar Robinson strode into the room together. Both men hung their hats next to Judge Thompson's and draped their suit jackets around the backs of their chairs.

“Good evening, Miss Davis,” Mayor Robinson said. “I trust the bank has had another good quarter.”

“What can I get you?” Etta asked. “Would you like some sandwiches?”

“I'll have some,” William Clark answered, “and a glass of that lemonade. You're looking well, Miss Davis.”

“Thank you, Mr. Clark.”

William was always so polite, and never failed to compliment Etta in some way. Her mother had often remarked on what a good son he'd been to his widowed mother, but he was at least ten years older than Etta. Most men his age were married.

“Did you see James on your way here?” Judge Thompson asked.

“No,” Mayor Robinson answered as he helped himself to the food. “He's probably trying to get away from the store. If he's not here in the next ten minutes, I say we start without him.”

“What's your hurry?” William asked. “Miss Davis has gone to a lot of trouble to provide these lovely refreshments. The least you can do is relax a few minutes and enjoy them.”

“Will you give me one of those sandwiches, Etta?” Judge Thompson asked. “And two of those cookies, if you don't mind.”

Etta set the plate of food in front of the judge and then refilled his glass. “I'm sure Mr. Moore will be here soon.”

Carolina Swanson entered carrying a cloth-bound journal and a pitcher of ice water.

The men stood.

“Please keep your seats, gentlemen,” she said. “I'm going to act as secretary tonight and take the minutes of the meeting.”

“Can't start without me,” James Moore said as he hurried into the room. “Sorry if I've kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Etta said. “What can I get you to eat, Mr. Moore?”

“Just some water.” James fanned his face with his hat. “Mighty warm for April, don't you think?”

“It's good for the wildflowers,” Judge Thompson answered. “We're going to have quite a show this year. Good rain and warm weather are all it takes.”

“Mind if we get started?” Mayor Robinson asked.

“What's your hurry, Edgar?” asked James Moore. “Got a hot card game waiting for you?” Mr. Moore's comment seemed out of place.

In addition to being the mayor, Edgar was a long-serving deacon of the First Baptist Church.

But Mayor Robinson laughed it off. “Card games are for Methodists like you, James.”

“No, no. You've got me confused with the Lutherans,” Mr. Moore retorted.

Judge Thompson cleared his throat. “Well, as soon as you theologians quit arguing, I'll start this meeting.”

The men chuckled good-naturedly, helped themselves to more refreshments, and finally took their seats.

“I hereby call this meeting of the Davis Bank and Trust Board of Directors to order.” Judge Thompson announced. “Are you ready, Mrs. Swanson?”

Carolina placed wire-rim spectacles on the bridge of her nose and nodded. “I'm ready, Judge.”

“Very well.” Judge Thompson took a long drink of lemonade, made eye contact with each person gathered around the table, and sat forward in his chair. “In Henry Davis's absence, let it be shown that Henrietta Davis will be presenting this quarter's information. Etta?”

Etta stood and gave each man a copy of her reports. “Thank you, Judge. I'd like to begin with the investment report. As you can see, the latest quarter shows steady growth in every sector except agricultural futures. This is concurrent with the end of the war, and I've listed my suggestions for reallocating our investment funds to reflect that change.”

“Good thinking,” William said. “I can see the bank's still in good hands.”

From all accounts, William was a bulldog of a prosecutor, never letting go of a case until he was satisfied that justice had been served, but Etta had never seen that side of him. She smiled at him, grateful for his kind remarks. “The next report shows our various accounts, and as you can see from the profit-and-loss statement, we made a smaller profit than usual last quarter.”

“Still, a profit is a profit,” James Moore said. “My store operated at a loss when we first opened, and that's a hard row to hoe.”

“Now that most people in town have automobiles, they'll be driving into Austin to shop,” Mayor Robinson said. “Have you thought about how that's going to affect your business?”

“Gentlemen,” Judge Thompson said gruffly, “need I remind you that we're here to discuss the bank and not Moore's Department Store?”

“Sorry, Judge,” the mayor said. “Go ahead, Miss Davis.”

Etta took a deep breath. Everything had gone well so far, but she was about to reveal the loss of thousands of dollars. She squared her shoulders and lowered her chin. As much as she dreaded the next part, this was her fight. “Next you'll see the loan reports. Business loans and real estate loans showed neither growth nor loss last quarter. My father's plan to create automobile loans shows the greatest increase in the number of people requesting the loan and in the total dollar amount collected.”

“See what I'm saying?” Mayor Robinson interjected. “Our little town is going to lose business if we don't try to get ahead of this boom. Everybody and his uncle wants an automobile.”

Judge Thompson rapped his knuckles on the table. “A good topic for the next town council meeting but not here and not now.”

Mayor Robinson held up his palms in a conciliatory manner and relaxed in his chair. “Fine, fine,” he muttered. “Sorry, Miss Davis.”

“What's this in agricultural loans?” William asked. “There seems to be an error.”

“Yes,” Etta said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. “I'm aware of the discrepancy.”

The other men shuffled their papers until they came to the correct one. “January looks all right to me,” Mayor Robinson commented.

“But look at February and March,” James Moore said. “Something's not matching up.”

“Exactly.” Etta drank a sip of water. The last thing she needed was a quiver in her voice. “When I found this problem, I called in an independent auditor. Do any of you know George Owens from the Worthington Accounting firm in Austin?”

“He was here last year, wasn't he?” Judge Thompson asked.

“Yes,” Etta answered. “He conducted our annual audit. I called him as soon as this discrepancy was noted. It has become clear that someone has intercepted loan payments but marked them as paid.”

William held up a sheet of paper. “The loan report shows only one loan seriously behind in payments.”

“That's right. John Farrington's widow asked us to put his loan payments on hold until she could sell their ranch. She plans to move to San Antonio to be closer to her daughter.”

“And you agreed to that?” James Moore asked.

“I knew her neighbor was interested in adding the Farrington acreage to his ranch. Simon Ward has already been in to talk us about the lien we hold on that land.”

“I don't know,” Mr. Moore said, “but it seems as though Eula Farrington could have made the payments. It's not good business to simply let money slip away.”

“The bank's assets aren't about to be threatened by a few months of missed loan payments,” William said. “There's no need to hound widows and orphans.”

“But these missing funds are another matter,” Mayor Robinson said with a frown. “If someone's putting loan payments into his own pocket, that's embezzlement.”

All the men's gazes settled on Etta and her stomach curled into a tight ball. Wasn't there someone else who could do this? Why did it have to be her? After a deep breath, she looked the mayor in the eye. “I'm aware of the problem, and I've taken the proper steps to discover who the thief is.”

“Such as?” Mr. Moore challenged.

“First, I instigated an independent audit. The results showed me how the money was being taken. Once I find out who the thief is, I will require two signatures on each receipt for loan payments. Cash payments are now simply added to the tellers' drawers, but in the future they'll be kept in a separate till in the vault.”

There was a moment of silence during which the men exchanged silent looks.

Etta didn't need a magical power to know what they were thinking. An embezzler was a serious matter, and the board members didn't think she'd done enough to catch him.

Mr. Moore spoke first. “Why haven't you already enacted the changes you described?”

Etta clasped her hands behind her back in an effort to hide her trembling. “As counter-intuitive as it sounds, I need the thief to keep stealing until I can pinpoint who it is.”

“Oh no,” Mr. Moore intoned, a dark scowl on his face. “That's bad business. No one in his right mind would sit by and knowingly let a thief rob him.”

“I understand your logic,” Etta replied, “but money can be tracked. If the embezzler spent the money, there will be a record of it somewhere. If he kept the cash, that too can be found.”

“And if he saved the cash in a bank,” Judge Thompson said, “there will be an account with his name on it.”

“Or the name of someone whom he is using to help him hide the money,” Etta agreed.

Mayor Robinson rubbed his balding head. “But if you let the thief continue, it may cost the bank thousands of dollars. Your father has always been an excellent steward, but it sounds as though you're going to let the bank's funds slip through your fingers.”

William leaned forward in his chair. “You know, Miss Davis, this matter really should be handled by my office. As county prosecutor, I have the means to investigate this further.”

Etta knees weakened and she sank into her chair. “I considered that, Mr. Clark, but if you step in now, the thief may stop.”

“Isn't that what you want?” Mayor Robinson asked in an incredulous tone.

“Of course,” Etta replied. “But I also want to identify the embezzler.”

Judge Thompson nodded slowly. “It's a difficult call, but I think Henrietta is doing the right thing. Let's give her time to follow through with her plan.”

“How much time?” Mayor Robinson wasn't ready to concede.

“I can't give you an exact timeline of how long it will take,” Etta said. “Other than the members of the board, the only people who know about the embezzlement are myself and Arthur Lewis.”

“Is Mr. Lewis one of your suspects?” William asked.

“Not really. He's the one who brought the matter to my attention.”

Mayor Robinson stood and braced his hands on the table. “Miss Davis, you can't expect us to sit back and let you ruin the bank. If your father knew about this…”

Etta dropped her gaze. The mayor didn't have to finish his sentence. If her father had been the one to learn about the embezzlement, he would have taken immediate action.

Judge Thompson spoke up. “William, has your office tackled something like this before?”

William's pale eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful expression. “Not since I became county prosecutor, but I'm sure we could come up with something.”

“I say we give Henrietta four weeks,” Judge Thompson said. “If she hasn't discovered the thief's identity by then, we'll let William have a crack at it.”

“Four weeks?” James Moore's doubt was evident. “I can't believe you're even suggesting it. If this happened in my store, I'd close the place, fire everyone, and start again.”

“But unlike your department store, the bank can't simply close,” Judge Thompson said. “Too many people depend on it.”

Mr. Moore shook his head. “I still say four weeks is too long.”

“Will you give me three?” Etta asked.

“No,” Mr. Moore replied. “That's still too long.”

“How much time will you allow?” Judge Thompson asked.

“Two weeks. That's all. But you mind me, Henrietta, I won't sit by and let you drive this bank into the ground.”