room?”
“Certainly. Wait—are you Dale Massey? Of Massey International?” Wilbur turned to him with gleaming eyes.
Dale gave a quick nod. “I am.”
“Nice article in Fortune, by the way. Mr. Massey, are you staying in town? If so, we’d be honored to set up a temporary account for you to use. It’ll only take a few moments.”
“I’m all set.”
Wilbur gave him a shrewd look. “Well, here’s my card if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.” Dale pocketed it. He wouldn’t need it, wouldn’t use it, either.
“That’s my great-great-grandfather.” Faith pointed to the portrait in the lobby. “Ezra Shaw.”
He looked at the stocky man in the picture with a handlebar mustache.
Faith stood next to him. “My middle name is Elaine, after Ezra’s wife.”
Faith Elaine Shaw. He looked at her. She liked to chatter.
Her cheeks colored. “The safe-deposit-box room is this way.”
He followed her across a hardwood floor that creaked. Every person, staff member and customer alike knew Faith and greeted her with warmth. They’d stop and chat, and Faith returned that same warmth with a grin or wave, or a quick caress to a chubby toddler’s cheek. She was the mayor’s daughter, after all, but she didn’t seem a bit affected by that. These were natural actions.
Once they were in the safe-deposit room, Dale pointed out the obvious. “You talked to everyone in this place.”
“Sorry. You said time wasn’t an issue.” She shrugged. “I grew up here. Went to school with these people, and babysat their kids when I was a teenager. Now, take a good look at that picture and tell me what you see.”
Dale looked up at the canvas of a man who looked neither young nor old. His hair looked darker and longer and Silas wore a beard that covered half his face. “A creepy version of me or my father even. Didn’t anyone use a razor back then?”
“He’s not creepy,” Faith defended, and then stared at the canvas with him. “I think he’s kind of handsome.”
Dale stared at her. “You’re crazy.”
She giggled. “Silas was a gold miner and a brave one, at that, so I’ve heard. He and my great-great-grandfather founded this town and opened this bank with their gold. Well, back then, the bank was what is now city hall.” Dale stared at the portrait, only partially hearing what Faith said. This man was his relative. His history. Silas Massey had shrewd eyes that looked out from the canvas with intelligence. He was probably a good businessman. So, what made the guy head east if he had everything going for him right here?
“Why isn’t his portrait out front in the lobby beside Ezra’s?”
Faith shrugged. “I don’t know. Silas has been in here ever since I can remember.”
“Why’d he leave?”
“I don’t know that, either. No one really does. Oh, there were rumors that the two fought over a claim. Who knows? It was a long time ago.”
Dale glanced at the portrait of his great-great-grandfather again. An odd connection to the man resonated even though Dale knew very little about him. Silas might have been a wild gold miner, for all he knew, but he’d laid the groundwork for Massey International, a business Dale’s grandfather started and Julian perfected.
Dale did his best to grow it, but on this trip, it was all about protecting it. Dale didn’t stand for money pits. Purchasing an office space for his brother Eric might end up a giant sinkhole if the place was never used.
Faith stood in line and tried not to overhear the conversation in front of her between the bank teller and Robin Frazier. Robin had moved to Jasper Gulch over the summer to work on some kind of genealogy project for her thesis.
Faith felt bad for the young woman who’d lost her ATM card in the bank’s machine and faced the firing squad before getting it back.
“I need to reference your driver’s license, Miss Frazier.” The teller, one of Nadine Shaw’s good friends, had a voice that carried. “Okay, now sign here please, exactly as on your card, Robin Elaine Frazier.”
Faith’s attention snagged on the middle name. Same as hers.
“I know it’s you, hon, but I still have to jot down your ID number for documentation.” The teller handed back Robin’s ID and ATM card.
Finally finished, with plastic in hand, Robin turned, looking frazzled.
“Hi, Robin.” Faith stepped forward and whispered, “I couldn’t help but overhear. We’ve got the same name.”
Robin blinked a couple of times and then rubbed the dark mole under her eyebrow. “Same name?”
Faith quickly explained, “My middle name is Elaine, same as yours. Mine comes from my great-great-grandmother.” She pointed at Ezra’s portrait. “His wife.”
“Yes, that’s right. Ezra married Elaine. Pretty common name, though.” Robin still looked a little rattled.
And Faith had overstepped her bounds by admitting that she’d listened to the entire conversation. She didn’t want Robin to think she was nosy and touched the woman’s arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No worries.” Robin smiled.
“Good.”
“Faith Elaine, you stepping up here or what?” The teller used the same tone in her voice as Faith’s mom when she was in trouble.
“Yes, ma’am.” Faith gave Robin a mock look of fright. “My turn.”
Robin laughed and waved goodbye.
Faith finished her business of a deposit of the last paycheck she’d receive for a while. As a violinist in Bozeman, she wasn’t needed until after Christmas when the regular concert series started up again. Only primary musicians who’d been around a lot longer than Faith played at the upcoming Christmastime ballet.
She glanced behind her. Wilbur bent Dale’s ear and the real estate mogul looked bored to tears until a young blonde bombshell walked right up to both men and smiled.
Faith clenched her teeth. There was no denying the appreciation in Dale’s eyes when he looked at the beautiful Lilibeth Shoemaker.
“Here you go, Faith. And watch out, Lilibeth is checking out your fella.” The teller finished her deposit transaction with a smile.
“He’s not mine, but thanks.” Faith scanned the balance on her receipt and fought the urge to keep walking right out the door. That would be rude. And show her weakness.
She joined the cozy party of three.
Lilibeth gave her a sweet smile. “Why, Faith, I was just asking Mr. Thompson if he needed Christmas help this year and come to find out we have a real live Massey in our midst.”
“Yeah, we do.” Faith gripped her purse strap so tight her fingers curled into a fist around the leather.
Lilibeth placed her hand on Dale’s arm and leaned toward him with a ridiculously brilliant smile. “Are there any more of you?”
“Not here.” He looked amused.
Lilibeth made a pouty face. “Too bad.”
Dale looked at Faith. “Ready?”
“Yep.” She tamped down a heady feeling of triumph when she saw Lilibeth’s mouth drop slightly open. “Bye, and thanks, Wilbur.”