negative balance in her bank account would somehow fix itself.
So far, it remained in the red.
The bank representative she spoke with was very nice. She said it looked as though someone had withdrawn all of Emma’s money. Because it was a debit transaction, the representative explained, they’d have to look into it before reimbursing her. That could take up to ten business days. And the charges had overdrawn her checking balance, so it pulled out her entire savings as well.
That warranted its own investigation, which could take up to three months.
But, the overly cheerful representative informed her, they’d certainly look into it just as soon as they could, and she’d receive a letter in the mail about the decision five to ten business days after the decision had been reached…
Emma had nineteen dollars and seventy-two cents to her name, because that was all that was in her wallet.
She tried not to panic.
Ben had ruined her credit when he went off the deep end. All her credit cards had been joint accounts with his; they’d been together since college, after all, and it had never occurred to her to open her own separate accounts.
Someone must’ve stolen his cards. How else would her money have disappeared? There wasn’t any way to withdraw money from jail.
Her rent was due in three days, her electric bill was already overdue because she’d forgotten to pay it last month, and all she had in her kitchen was half a gallon of milk, a box of cereal, and a bottle of soy sauce.
And now she had to worry that someone had stolen the identity of her ex, whom she had never taken off her account? She was going to have to call the credit bureaus and make sure her own identity was safe.
Emma dug around in her purse for her cell phone, but her fingers instead closed on a smooth, firm rectangle. She pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, then absently twirled Aidan MacWilliam’s card between her fingers, remembering his offer. Ten thousand dollars, direct deposited to an account…she could certainly go grocery shopping.
She wouldn’t be evicted.
She would have enough money to live for more than the next couple of months. She didn’t have anyone to ask for a loan, and her landlord was not an understanding sort.
She glanced down at the card again:
Aidan MacWilliam, Entrepreneur
Ireland
She rolled her eyes. Informative business card.
She flipped it over and read the phone number he’d scrawled, surprised it was a local one. Then again, Aidan MacWilliam was a surprising man. There was much more to him than he let on. A person didn’t become as successful as he was simply by being handsome.
Actually, she knew that to be patently false. She knew of quite a few people who were successful because of their looks, but none of them matched her almost-client’s intellect and business savvy.
She pursed her lips, then grabbed her phone and dialed the number.
“Good morning, Ms. Perkins.”
In spite of herself, she smiled. “How did you know it was me?”
“No one in New York has this number. Have you changed your mind?”
“Perhaps,” she replied briskly, trying to infuse her voice with professionalism. Instead, it came out kind of breathy and panicky.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern lacing the words. “Would you care to meet for breakfast instead?”
She glanced at the clock—8:30 a.m. Oops.
“No, thanks, I already ate. I apologize about the time. How about ten? That will give me enough time to speak with Mr. Price.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”
She hung up, feeling slightly better, but not by much. My day couldn’t possibly get any worse , she assured herself.
• • •
Emma’s words came back to haunt her not an hour later as she stared, horrified, at yet another computer screen. She couldn’t blink and her stomach was in knots.
And she wasn’t on her bank website anymore.
“Emma—snap out of it,” Josh said briskly. He was perched on her desk, rubbing his
So far, it remained in the red.
The bank representative she spoke with was very nice. She said it looked as though someone had withdrawn all of Emma’s money. Because it was a debit transaction, the representative explained, they’d have to look into it before reimbursing her. That could take up to ten business days. And the charges had overdrawn her checking balance, so it pulled out her entire savings as well.
That warranted its own investigation, which could take up to three months.
But, the overly cheerful representative informed her, they’d certainly look into it just as soon as they could, and she’d receive a letter in the mail about the decision five to ten business days after the decision had been reached…
Emma had nineteen dollars and seventy-two cents to her name, because that was all that was in her wallet.
She tried not to panic.
Ben had ruined her credit when he went off the deep end. All her credit cards had been joint accounts with his; they’d been together since college, after all, and it had never occurred to her to open her own separate accounts.
Someone must’ve stolen his cards. How else would her money have disappeared? There wasn’t any way to withdraw money from jail.
Her rent was due in three days, her electric bill was already overdue because she’d forgotten to pay it last month, and all she had in her kitchen was half a gallon of milk, a box of cereal, and a bottle of soy sauce.
And now she had to worry that someone had stolen the identity of her ex, whom she had never taken off her account? She was going to have to call the credit bureaus and make sure her own identity was safe.
Emma dug around in her purse for her cell phone, but her fingers instead closed on a smooth, firm rectangle. She pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, then absently twirled Aidan MacWilliam’s card between her fingers, remembering his offer. Ten thousand dollars, direct deposited to an account…she could certainly go grocery shopping.
She wouldn’t be evicted.
She would have enough money to live for more than the next couple of months. She didn’t have anyone to ask for a loan, and her landlord was not an understanding sort.
She glanced down at the card again:
Aidan MacWilliam, Entrepreneur
Ireland
She rolled her eyes. Informative business card.
She flipped it over and read the phone number he’d scrawled, surprised it was a local one. Then again, Aidan MacWilliam was a surprising man. There was much more to him than he let on. A person didn’t become as successful as he was simply by being handsome.
Actually, she knew that to be patently false. She knew of quite a few people who were successful because of their looks, but none of them matched her almost-client’s intellect and business savvy.
She pursed her lips, then grabbed her phone and dialed the number.
“Good morning, Ms. Perkins.”
In spite of herself, she smiled. “How did you know it was me?”
“No one in New York has this number. Have you changed your mind?”
“Perhaps,” she replied briskly, trying to infuse her voice with professionalism. Instead, it came out kind of breathy and panicky.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern lacing the words. “Would you care to meet for breakfast instead?”
She glanced at the clock—8:30 a.m. Oops.
“No, thanks, I already ate. I apologize about the time. How about ten? That will give me enough time to speak with Mr. Price.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”
She hung up, feeling slightly better, but not by much. My day couldn’t possibly get any worse , she assured herself.
• • •
Emma’s words came back to haunt her not an hour later as she stared, horrified, at yet another computer screen. She couldn’t blink and her stomach was in knots.
And she wasn’t on her bank website anymore.
“Emma—snap out of it,” Josh said briskly. He was perched on her desk, rubbing his
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