“I have to tell you,” Lara said, “that I only have three million dollars to put down, and…”
He smiled. “No problem.”
She felt a thrill of excitement. “Really?”
“Three million can go a long way if you know what to do with it.” He looked at his watch. “I have another appointment now. I wonder if we could get together for dinner tonight and talk about this.”
“Certainly,” Lara said. “That would be fine.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Palmer House.”
“Why don’t I pick you up at eight?”
Lara got to her feet. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how good you make me feel. Frankly, I was beginning to get discouraged.”
“No need,” he said. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
At eight o’clock Tom Peterson picked up Lara and took her to Henrici’s for dinner. When they were seated, he said, “You know, I’m glad that you came to me. We can do a lot for each other.”
“We can?”
“Yes. There’s a lot of ass around this town, but none of it as beautiful as yours, honey. You can open a luxury whorehouse and cater to an exclusive…”
Lara froze. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you can get half a dozen girls together, we…”
Lara was gone.
The following day Lara visited three more banks. When she explained her plans to the manager of the first bank, he said, “I’m going to give you the best advice you’ll ever get: Forget it. Real estate development is a man’s game. There’s no place for women in it.”
“And why is that?” Lara asked tonelessly.
“Because you’d be dealing with a bunch of macho roughnecks. They’d eat you alive.”
“They didn’t eat me alive in Glace Bay,” Lara said.
He leaned forward. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Chicago is not Glace Bay.”
At the next bank the manager said to her, “We’ll be glad to help you out, Miss Cameron. Of course, what you have in mind is out of the question. What I would suggest is to let us handle your money and invest it…”
Lara was out of his office before he finished his sentence.
At the third bank Lara was ushered into the office of Bob Vance, a pleasant-looking gray-haired man who looked exactly as the president of a bank should look. In the office with him was a pale, thin, sandy-haired man in his early thirties, wearing a rumpled suit and looking completely out of place.
“This is Howard Keller, Miss Cameron, one of our vice-presidents.”
“How do you do?”
“What can I do for you this morning?” Bob Vance asked.
“I’m interested in building a hotel in Chicago,” Lara said, “and I’m looking for finance.”
Bob Vance smiled. “You’ve come to the right place. Do you have a location in mind?”
“I know the general area I want. Near the Loop, not too far from Michigan Avenue…”
“Excellent.”
Lara told him about her boutique hotel idea.
“That sounds interesting,” Vance said. “And how much equity do you have?”
“Three million dollars. I want to borrow the rest.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Your problem is that you have big ideas and a small purse. Now, if you would like us to invest your money for you…”
“No, thank you,” Lara said. “Thanks for your time. Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She turned and left the office, fuming. In Glace Bay three million dollars was a fortune. Here people seemed to think it was nothing.
As Lara reached the street, a voice said, “Miss Cameron!”
Lara turned. It was the man she had been introduced to—Howard Keller. “Yes?”
“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Perhaps we could have a cup of coffee.”
Lara stiffened. Was everyone in Chicago a sex maniac?
“There’s a good coffee shop just around the corner.”
Lara shrugged. “All right.”
When they had ordered, Howard Keller said, “If you don’t mind my butting in, I’d like to give you some advice.”
Lara was watching him, wary. “Go ahead.”
“In the first place, you’re going about this all wrong.”
“You don’t think my idea will work?” she asked stiffly.