Nora laid the note on the counter like a challenge. “My husband is gone,” she said. “I can’t pay this in full by January.”
Goss didn’t touch the paper. He looked at Nora the way men looked at women when they believed the woman’s problem was emotion, not math.
“Mrs. Carver,” he said, folding his hands, “the note is clear.”
“Then make it less clear,” Nora replied, surprising herself with the sharpness. “Give me time. I’ll sell cattle next fall. I can work the land.”
Goss’s eyebrows lifted, polite as a church door. “The bank has obligations.”
“I have a cabin,” Nora said. “I have land.”
“And the bank has a contract.”
Nora tried again, because what else was there? “I can pay in installments.”
“The note doesn’t allow for that.”
“Who wrote such a note?”
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