It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
Mature Content: No
With: Matt Wentworth; Charles Wentworth, Sr. and anybody else (purely optional - just want to leave it open for others to join in)
Time of Day: Morning
"Well, I have to hand it to you. When you say you're going to do something you really do it."
Matt looked around at the bank's interior. It was about an hour or so before opening. Luke Johnson, the bank's main teller hadn't arrived yet and wouldn't be expecting a new boss. Watching his father inspect the area behind where the tellers worked, he couldn't help but smile a little. The man had only been in town for less than a week and after explaining why he had come here and why he was re-locating the whole family to this area, he mentioned looking for a business to buy to get a foothold in the community. Matt didn't expect it to be the bank.
"Mr. Croft apparently has been wanting to move away and go live with his family in Helena for a while. My arrival provided him with a golden opportunity," Charles smirked, "And I guess it was one for me as well. He also sold me his house, which will save me some time. After he moves out, I will have about a month to make any repairs or changes before your mother arrives."
"It'll take you a week or two to work out how things work here in the bank."
"Thankfully, I already have substantial financial knowledge and managerial experience. Croft will be dropping by later on today to get me up to scratch on things. He wanted to give me the chance to introduce myself to the staff and explain the change in ownership."
Managerial experience was something he knew his father didn't lack. The man had been trying to manage his sons' lives for years. So, when he told the four of them that he had finally albeit reluctantly come to the conclusion, that it was no use and that his sons' had to lead their own lives, they were all surprised. Charlie, the reason they thought he had come to Kalispell for, was relieved to say the least. There would be no getting hauled off back to college for him. Matt knew that there was probably more to his father's change of heart but he decided that the man would tell them in his own time. For now, he was interested in making amends.
Want... dolls!
She knew it was a bank. It said it in big letters on the outside.
B A N K
Ka$&$&$£ BANK.
It was all dark inside the place, this time in the morning, so she got up close to the window.
She saw her face reflected in the window get bigger and bigger and bigger, as her face got closer, but then her nose touched the glass and suddenly she could see inside. There were lots of men in suits. Rich men. Well, they lived in a bank so, of course they were rich.
She knocked on the window and waved at them to let her in.
Nothing happened.
She knocked on the window and waved at them to let her in.
Still nothing happened.
She knocked on the window and waved at them to let her in.
It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
Matt was listening to his father address the staff. Since Monday was one of the busiest days, all three tellers were there. He could see that they were interested in what his father had to say and a bit relieved that they weren't losing their jobs.
Suddenly, he heard a tap on the window and then shortly after another one. He turned to see some young woman waving and once again tapping on the window. For a moment, he thought that it was Miss Mudd but she was Mike's problem and not his, so it probably wasn't her. Stepping closer to the window, he could see that she was slightly older and the colour of her was red. Turning back to look at his father, who was now curious to find out what was going on.
Nodding, he said, "I'll see what she wants."
Stepping outside and closing the bank's door behind, Matt approached the young lady. He had seen her around town a few times and knew that she was part of Lorenzo Crabbe's entourage, who were setting up a business in one of the buildings near the town centre. Part of his job for the Secret Service was to keep on eye on the comings and goings. Kalispell and the surrounding area was slowly becoming an important and strategic place. He had already sent a letter (coded, of course) back to the office in Helena, requesting information about him.
Approaching the lady, he smiled, "Good morning, miss. Is there are anything I can help you with?"
Want... dolls!
One of the rich gentlemen with the lovely suits and shiny shoes from inside the bank appeared and spoke to her "Good morning, miss. Is there are anything I can help you with?"
She wanted to speak loudly and boldly to him, just like she’d heard her friend Arabella do to people. But after a couple of tries, which stuck in her throat, she reverted to form and shuffled up to him and leaned in close to whisper in the nice gentleman’s ear.
“I … I got some money for the feller what owns the bank.” she informed him.
She was a complete innocent, but had there been a Mrs. Wentworth, she might not have enjoyed the sight of the two of them pressed together so close like that on the boardwalk outside the bank.
It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
At first, Matt was a little surprised at her stepping forward to speak to him. From what he knew about her was that she was the quiet type and didn't say much even when she wasn't being teased by some of the more insensitive types around town. He realised that she about to say something and so he leaned down to hear her.
“I … I got some money for the feller what owns the bank.” she informed him
Matt straightened up and smiled, "Well, I think the fellow who owns the bank will be very happy to see you."
He pulled out his pocket watch and took note of the time before putting it back in his vest pocket, "However, we will have to wait for a few minutes until the bank is open."
Pointing to one of the seat that was near the door, "Would you like to sit down and wait?"
Want... dolls!
Matt straightened up and smiled, "Well, I think the fellow who owns the bank will be very happy to see you."
Bridget smiled and nodded. Of course he would.
He pulled out his pocket watch and took note of the time before putting it back in his vest pocket, "However, we will have to wait for a few minutes until the bank is open."
The young woman watched him pull out the beautiful gold and silver timepiece on its thick chain. She loved how it sparkled and glimmered in the early morning sunlight that peeped between the space between the two buildings opposite. She smiled at the man. He seemed nice. She understood that she had to wait, even though the door to the Bank was open.
Pointing to one of the seats that was near the door, "Would you like to sit down and wait?"
Bridget shook her head, and just stood there. Sitting down and then getting up again wasn’t easy. At least, it was hard to do without people noticing.
She stood silently in front of the nice man in the lovely clothes. Then she craned her head to the side and looked around him into the bank. She clutched at the neat purse which had the money in. She wanted to go in quite desperately now.
It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
Seeing that the young lady was anxious and looking around him to see inside the bank, Matt smiled, "I think it might be all right to go in now. It's still a few minutes to opening but I have some influence with the owner, so he won't mind."
Offering his arm, he glanced at Bridget, "Shall we?"
Want... dolls!
Seeing that the young lady was anxious and looking around him to see inside the bank, Matt smiled, "I think it might be all right to go in now. It's still a few minutes to opening but I have some influence with the owner, so he won't mind."
The nice handsome man’s words were as fancy as his beautiful suit and Bridget frowned as she tried to fully understand them. Most folk who knew her soon learned to spell things out to her in plain and simple words, and her friend Arabella delighted in acting out anything she didn’t quite get. That’s how she knew all about banks now.
Offering his arm, he glanced at Bridget, "Shall we?"
That gesture, Bridget did get. The man was going to take her in himself.
She put down her little parasol and put it under her arm so that she could take his, and still manage to cling on to her dapper purse with its precious contents.
The man led her in and all the fancy men in there stared at her something awful, which made her feel funny in her tummy: sort of nervous and proud all at the same time. Some of them were dressed funny, with green visors and garters on their arms to hold their shirtsleeves up like she’d seen Mr. Crabbe wear in the place they’d come from, when he was playing that Faro game with all those angry men. She didn’t get that Faro game at all. Or poker or any card games other than snap. Snap was funny and she was good at it.
There was one man there who looked older and more fancy than all the rest. Bridget leaned in closer to the nice man that she was attached to now like a limpet.
“Does he own the bank?” she whispered the question to Matt.
It's not a question of who's right. It's a question of what's right.
Matt leaned slightly down, "Yes, he does but don't worry, he's not as a scary as he looks."
Straightening up, Matt escorted the young lady to his father. For a moment, he thought about using her name but stopped quickly. He knew her name, in fact he knew all the names of the people in Lorenzo Crabbe's little group but showing that he did would inevitably bring trouble as he was unsure of the exact relationship between her and her protector (a term which he used rather loosely). If she mentioned that a stranger she had only met that morning knew her name, then Crabbe might get suspicious.
His father watching him approached, smiled, "Well, who do we have here."
Matt let go of Bridget's arm and looked at her, "May, I introduce Charles Wentworth, Senior the owner of the Kalispell Bank and this is...pardon me, I forgot to ask what your name is."
Want... dolls!
Matt leaned slightly down, "Yes, he does but don't worry, he's not as a scary as he looks."
Bridget smiled at the nice man. He was thinking of her and her feelings, wanting her not to be scared. He was nice. She wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared either. The men standing about weren’t scared, she felt. Maybe a little apprehensive, curious. There was only one scared person in the room.
His father watching him approached, smiled, "Well, who do we have here."
Bridget studied the man with a suddenly serious look on her face, her head cocking to one side a little, like a curious puppy. She must have come to some sort of decision about him because she eventually smiled. But it wasn’t like the wide smile she’d reacted with when Matt was talking to her; it was somehow a sad smile, maudlin, almost sympathetic: the sort of smile a mother would give her child when tending to a scraped knee.
Matt let go of Bridget's arm and looked at her, "May, I introduce Charles Wentworth, Senior the owner of the Kalispell Bank and this is...pardon me, I forgot to ask what your name is."
She’d got this. She could do this. The young woman made a sort of rocking motion, redolent of someone who was revving themselves up to jump over a creek, and on the fourth rock she stared right ahead and said out loud “My name is Bridget Monahan.” Well, maybe ‘out loud’ was something of an overstatement, but it was just about audible. She turned and looked up at Matt with questioning eyes to see if she had ‘done good.’