Twisted

May protested. “No, I can’t believe it.”
    She looked into her assistant’s face, which was pretty and demure, yes, but also savvy. Loretta said, “Maybe he looks for people who’re having trouble running businesses and moves in and, bang, cleans ’em out.”
    Sandra May shook her head.
    “I’m not saying for sure, Mrs. DuMont. I just worry about you. I don’t want anybody to take advantage of you. And we all here . . . well, we can’t hardly afford to lose our jobs.”
    “I’m not going to be some timid widow who’s afraid of the dark.”
    “This might not be just a shadow,” Loretta said.
    “I’ve talked to the man, I’ve looked into his eyes, honey,” Sandra May said. “I reckon I’m as good a judge of character as my mama was.”
    “I hope you are, ma’am. For all our sakes. I hope you are.”
    Sandra May’s eyes scanned the office again, the pictures of her husband with the fish and game he’d bagged, the pictures of the company in the early days, the groundbreaking for the new factory, Jim at the Rotary Club, Jim and Sandra May on the company float at the county fair.
    Their wedding picture . . .
    Honey, don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything I’ll take care of it everything’ll be fine don’t worry don’t worry don’t worry . . .
    The words her husband had said to her a thousand times echoed in her head. Sandra May sat down in the office chair once more.

    The next day Sandra May found Bill Ralston in the office, hunched over an accounting book.
    She set a piece of paper in front of him.
    He lifted it, frowning.
    “What’s this?”
    “The power of attorney you were talking about. It gives you the authority to find our money, file suit, vote the company’s shares—everything. . . .” She laughed. “I must say I was having some doubts about you for a bit.”
    “Because I’m from New York?” He smiled.
    “That War of Northern Aggression, why, it does rear its ugly head sometimes. . . . But, no, I’ll tell you why I’m giving it to you. Because a widow can’t afford to be afraid of her own shadow. People see that and they sense blood in the water and next thing youknow, it’s good-bye. No, no, I looked you in the eye and I said to myself, I trust him. So now I’m putting my money where my mouth is. Or, should I say, my husband’s money. The hidden variety.” She looked at the document. “Before Jim’s accident I would’ve run to him with a problem. And before Jim I would’ve run to my mother. I wouldn’t’ve made any decisions. But I’m on my own now and I have to make my own choices. One of those choices was hiring you and trusting you. This is something I’m doing for me. Now, use that and find the money and get it back.”
    He read the power of attorney carefully once more, noted the signature. “It’s irrevocable. You can’t withdraw it.”
    “The lawyer said a revocable one is useless for tracing money and filing suits if you need to.”
    “Good.” He gave her another smile . . . but it was different from earlier. There was a coldness to his expression. And even a hint of triumph—like you’d see on the face of a redneck Pine Creek High tackle. “Ah, Sandy, Sandy, Sandy—I’ll tell you, I thought it’d take months.”
    She frowned. “Months?”
    “Yes’m. To get control of the company, I’m talking about.”
    “Get control?” She stared at him. Her breathing was fast. “What’re you . . . what’re you saying?”
    “It could’ve been a nightmare—and the worst part was I’d have to stay in this hellhole of a town for who knew how long. . . . Pine Creek . . .” He put on a hillbilly accent as he said sarcastically, “Lord above, how do y’all keep from going stark, raving mad here?”
    “What are you talking about,” she whispered.
    “Sandy, the whole point of this was to get your company.” He tapped the power of attorney. “I’ll vote myself in as president, pay myself a nice, big salary and bonus, then sell the place. You’ll make some money—don’t worry. You’re still the owner of the stock. Oh, and don’t worry about that hidden money. It wasn’t hidden at all. Your husband put some company money into overseas investments, like a million other businessmen last year. He got hurt a little when the market dipped. No big deal. It’ll come back. You were never even close to bankruptcy.”
    “Why . . .” She gasped. “You goddamn bastard! This’s fraud!”