He had a lot on his mind—not an unusual condition for a man who is mayor of a busy, growing town, but the matters which were presently causing him to furrow his brow and chew his lower lip in anger were matters that extended beyond the scope of the mayoral office. He crossed the street and tramped past the bank, preoccupied and paying little attention to the comings and goings of the people on the street and boardwalks. As he passed the open doorway of the bank, Tom Stewart, standing just inside, hailed him, “Mayor.” Recognizing the voice, Walker froze in his tracks and slowly turned to face Stewart, an expression of bitter hatred on his face. “We need to talk,” said Stewart. “No, we don’t,” said Walker coldly, starting to move away. “It would be better for Anne if you’d talk to me,” said Stewart. He wore an arrogant smile—his way of showing Walker how little he cared what the man thought of him.
