Christmas at Carnton (Carnton 0.5)(6)

“Prescott. And yes, I do, of a nature.” Aletta shot her son a last look of warning. “I came by on Monday, three days ago, and spoke with Mr. Tanner. He told me he needed to meet with the board about my situation. Then he asked me to stop back by today for their response.”

The young woman nodded, but Aletta didn’t find her frown particularly comforting.

“Wait here, please, Mrs. Prescott.”

The secretary disappeared into Mr. Tanner’s office and closed the door behind her.

Andrew tugged harder. “This isn’t any fun!”

“Not everything can be fun, Andrew. Now hold still. This won’t take long.”

Or at least she hoped it wouldn’t. Mr. Tanner had given her strong reason to believe that the board would, under the circumstances, extend her more time to pay the mortgage. She prayed he was right.

“Mrs. Prescott . . .”

Aletta turned. “Oh, Mr. Tanner! Thank you, sir, for seeing me.”

“Most certainly.” He gestured. “Why don’t we meet in my office? That will allow us more privacy.”

She felt a twinge of uncertainty at his suggestion but worked to maintain her optimism, while also working to keep hold of Andrew. The boy couldn’t seem to stay still. His unruliness reminded her of the first weeks after Warren had left to fight over two years ago. Andrew had constantly challenged her. Much as he’d done in recent days while she’d scoured the town of Franklin looking for work—with no success. He’d been obstinate and resentful. Not that she could blame him. His world had been upended yet again. He needed the loving influence and firm hand of his father.

A father who was never coming home.

She claimed one of two chairs opposite Mr. Tanner’s side of the desk, and Andrew took the other while eyeing a candy dish on the bank officer’s desk. In a blink, Andrew hopped down, grabbed a piece of peppermint, and popped it into his mouth before she could react.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tanner,” Aletta whispered, assisting Andrew back into his chair with a scolding glance. “Andrew, we must ask permission first.” She placed a restraining hand on her son’s leg before turning back. “Candy is a rarity these days, sir.”

“It’s not a bother, Mrs. Prescott. Tell me, have you had success with securing employment?”

“No, sir, not yet. But I won’t give up,” she added quickly, her smile feeling brittle. “I’m hoping to find something soon.”

“I share that same hope, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Allow me to come directly to the point, Mrs. Prescott.”

He hesitated, and her heart fell.

“The board of officers met,” Mr. Tanner continued, “and . . . unfortunately, given your present situation and lack of employment, they do not believe that granting you more time to bring your loan current would be prudent. Nor practical. I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice worked to undermine her already tenuous emotions.

“Therefore, the board voted to proceed with the foreclosure. But I was able to persuade them to allow you and your son more time before you must vacate the home.”

Vacate their home. She took a deep breath, the ache of missing Warren in that moment nearly unbearable. “Thank you, Mr. Tanner. That’s something, at least.”

“They granted you until the first of December to find somewhere else to live.”

“Two weeks?” The scant relief she’d felt evaporated, and a rush of anger that had been building in recent days erupted. “That’s all? We have to leave the home we’ve lived in—and have faithfully made payments on for almost four years—in only two weeks? And my late husband so recently—” She caught herself. “—having sacrificed everything for his country, and this is the decision you make? This is the step the board would take if it involved one of their wives? Their children? You would push them from their home and into the streets?”

Andrew cocked his little head. “We’re not gonna live at home anymore, Mama?”

Confusion riddled his expression, and Aletta wished again that she hadn’t had to bring him along. But leaving him with MaryNell wasn’t an option at present. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart,” she said softly, wishing she believed it. She turned back and sighed. “My apologies to you, Mr. Tanner. Focusing my anger toward you is out of line. I know you did all you could. It’s simply . . . two weeks is not a very long time. Especially for a woman . . . in my circumstance.”

Mr. Tanner briefly bowed his head. “I understand, Mrs. Prescott. And may I offer, again, my sincere condolences on your loss. I, too, am sorry. I held such hope that this would turn out differently.”

She heard the finality in his voice and started to rise—when Andrew lunged again for the candy dish. She swiftly grabbed his arm. But not before he snatched a handful of peppermints. He yanked away from her, hitting the candy dish and sending it crashing to the floor. Shards of glass and peppermint scattered everywhere.

Heat poured through her. “Oh, Mr. Tanner! I’m so sorry! Allow me to help clean this up.” She rose, holding on to Andrew while already calculating how to kneel, something that was becoming more of a challenge.

“Don’t worry yourself over it, Mrs. Prescott. Please. My secretary will see to it.”

He crossed to the door and opened it, a clear message sent in the act. Trying to regain her composure, Aletta followed, Andrew in hand. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Mr. Tanner as they exited.