A Loving Light
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 13: Are You Sure?
We stepped out of the air-conditioned lobby of the office building and into the warm Atlanta morning at around half-eleven. I sent Marie, Lana and Carly a message in the group chat I’d set up for the trip, telling them we’d finished and were heading back to the hotel. Our lunch reservation wasn’t until twelve-thirty, so by the time we’d walked the short distance to the hotel, I had about three-quarters of an hour to relax, decompress and freshen up.
I went up to my room, took off my jacket and waistcoat, then lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
What was I doing? Why was I doing it?
My phone beeped from the bedside table. I reached out and picked it up.
CARLY: How did it go? I’m so proud of you! Can’t wait to see you. We’re just about to stop for lunch in Nooga before crossing the state line. Halfway there!
A few seconds later, there was a message from Lana.
LANA: Nooga?
CARLY: Chattanooga.
LANA: Got it. What time are you arriving?
How did people cope these group chats? The messages were so quick. I knew I should reply, but every time I started to type something, a new message arrived, rendering whatever I was typing pointless.
CARLY: Two. Will you be there?
LANA: We’re shopping! With Paul’s credit card. In Chanel right now but will make sure we’re there when you arrive.
CARLY: Amazing. Buy me a dress while you’re there?
LANA: We’re heading to Jimmy Choo next. How about some shoes?
CARLY: YES PLEASE!
I figured it was time to say something.
PAUL: Do I get a say in who you spend my money on?
LANA: NO
CARLY: NO
Lana and Carly’s messages arrived at pretty much the same time. I sighed. Why was I doing this? The reason was right there in that set of messages. I was doing it for Carly. She was so sweet and so talented, and I wanted to make sure she put on the show she wanted to put on, not the show some suit from the label wanted her to put on.
I was doing this to give Carly the freedom to be the Kayla she wanted to be.
PAUL: I’m meeting Chloë and Sam at two. We should all be back at our hotel by half-three for the interviews at four.
CARLY: I can’t wait to see you.
CARLY: Both of you!
CARLY: Got to go. We’ve just pulled up outside the restaurant. See you in a couple of hours.
I changed out of my suit before lunch, putting it back in its travel bag, ready to pack it away in my suitcase. I didn’t need it now—there were no more ‘stuffy bankers’ on this trip. My instinct was to wear my best jeans, but Marie had advised against it, arguing that even though Sam was the ‘Coolest Man on the Planet’, this was still a business meeting.
So I’d had to buy some chinos especially for the trip.
Chinos.
I couldn’t believe it. I was turning into my dad; he always wore chinos.
That thought crossing my mind caused me to pause. I missed him. And Mom. I wondered just what they would make of all this. Were they looking on with pride, or shaking their heads, wondering just what the hell their son was playing at?
I hoped it was the former. I hoped I was making them, and Clarissa, proud.
You are, said Clarissa’s voice in the back of my head. We are all very proud of you.
I took a deep breath and fought back the tears. Then I shook my head and finished getting dressed, adding a new white cotton shirt and a new pair of white dress sneakers. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Every item of clothing I wore, even down to my boxers and socks, had a designer label (and the price tag to go with it).
But, boy, did it look good.
I met Ben and Maddie in the lobby, and then we headed to the hotel’s restaurant. Neither of them had changed clothes. But then, both of them were still ‘on the clock.’ We were seated at a table in a private, secluded corner of the room—not quite a private room, but near enough—and after ordering, attention turned to the meeting we’d just had.
“You did well,” Ben said. “It went really well.”
“Typical lawyer,” said Maddie. “Master of understatement.”
Ben grinned.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “He’s right. It went well. We got what we wanted.”
Maddie shook her head. “You are a remarkable young man, do you realise that, Paul? Do you have any idea what you’ve just achieved without even trying?”
I shook my head.
She smiled. “Follow through on your promises to Charles—which I know that you will—and you’ll have created the greatest ally in this town that you could possibly have. He will move heaven and earth to help make every project you undertake in the Southern States a success.”
I shook my head again. “I don’t get it. All I did was give him a copy of Alabama Sweetheart and invite him to the concert.”
Maddie laughed. “All I did?” She shook her head. “Charles will go home tonight, present that CD to his son, and that alone will make him father of the year material. But then he gets to tell his son he’s going to actually meet Kayla.” She shook her head again. “Now, look, Patrick is sixteen, I think. He may have just turned seventeen. I can’t remember when his birthday is. But do you have any idea what these two gifts will mean to him? Imagine if someone had said you were going to meet your music idol at seventeen? Especially an idol like Kayla, who, let’s face it, is quite the delightful young lady.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I get that, but...” I shrugged.
“Look, Paul, an advance copy of a highly anticipated album and a backstage pass to her concert in your hometown are both already ‘money can’t buy’ gifts. But then you drop the invitation to the preview show on him? And tell him that Sam Bradwell will be in attendance? That’s a whole other level of ‘money can’t buy.’ Paul, Charles is used to dealing with high-worth individuals, but you must understand, Mr Bradwell is from Georgia. He’s a superstar around the world, but the people of Georgia, and of Atlanta in particular, treat him like a God.
“To you...” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Tickets to the show. Come and meet Sam, he’s a good guy. To Charles and Patrick ... A once-in-a-lifetime experience. Unless, of course, you welcome Charles into your inner circle, in which case, maybe it becomes a regular experience. So Charles will be doing all he can to stay in your good books. And that’s without mentioning the networking possibilities at the Nashville show for a man like Charles. He’ll be handing out business cards and arranging ‘chats’ like no tomorrow.”
Our food arrived and we began eating, but I had something on my mind. When it looked like Maddie had nearly finished, I asked, “Maddie, do I have to transfer the money into this account today?”
She nodded, swallowed and said, “It should have already happened by now.”
I nodded. “So how much interest am I going to lose?”
Maddie frowned. “Why would you lose interest?”
“Well ... I don’t think the notice period on the accounts has expired yet. If I take money out of the accounts before then, I lose interest, don’t I?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that’s not what we’re doing, Paul. You won’t be losing any interest on those accounts. Don’t worry about it. It’s all in hand.”
Now I frowned. “So what are we doing?”
“I’ve arranged a bridging facility.”
“Bridging facility?”
She put down her cutlery. Then she picked up her glass of water and took a sip before replying. “It’s a thirty-day credit facility secured against your notice accounts. Think of it like a very low-interest overdraft. You can spend the four million you have on notice now, and not lose a penny. You will have to pay some interest, but I’ve arranged a very low rate, and you only pay daily interest on the funds you draw down. On the money you spend.”
“So, the full one million for the LLC is being sent over today, and I’ll pay interest on that for ... What? Ten days?”
She shook her head. “Not even that.”
She took another sip of her water. “For the LLC, you’ve authorised a transfer of one million pounds, that’s true. But if we send all of that today, you’ll be paying more interest on your overdraft than you need to. Instead, we’ve seeded the account with a more sensible two hundred and fifty thousand pounds—about four hundred thousand dollars. Ashley will then monitor your account going forward, and if the balance falls below a quarter of a million dollars, her system will automatically draw down more money from your account in London. If the total drawdown reaches one million, we’ll need your authorisation, but I doubt it will even come close to that. The transfers are all intra-bank, so there are reduced transfer fees and a preferential exchange rate. This keeps your balance in the London office as high as possible, so you get the best interest rate.”
“Wait,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Let me just ... So, my money stays in a big pot in London earning great interest, and the bank lends me, like, I don’t know, pocket money to spend here? Ultimately, even though I’m spending the bank’s money, not mine, I’m still earning more interest than I’m paying. Still getting richer?”
Maddie nodded. “Exactly.”
I stared at her. “And you’ve arranged all this? Sorted all this out for me.”
“You’re my client, Paul,” she said. “It’s my job to ensure the best outcomes for you.”
“What are your plans for the afternoon?” I asked Maddie before Ben and I got in the car for the ride to the meeting with Sam and Chloë. “Some shopping like Lana and Marie?” I grinned.
She shook her head. “I’m heading back up to the thirty-fifth floor. They have some associate offices set aside for staff members from the bank’s other offices. I’m sure my inbox will be bursting at the seams. Better to deal with it now than on Sunday evening after the flight home.”
“You’re still coming to the dinner with everyone this evening, though, right?”
She smiled. “Oh, yes. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m very much looking forward to meeting Mr Bradwell.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m kind of hoping I can persuade him that Radcliffe Grant would be a better fit for his London assets than whoever he’s with now.” She winked and leaned back. “I may have to mention the meal to Charles at the close of business. I did enjoy the look on his face earlier and might see if I can recreate it.”
“Sometimes, I forget what a shark you are, Maddie,” Ben said.
“Oh, Ben,” Maddie said. “You have no idea.”
I grinned. “Okay, I’ll see you for dinner then. Maybe you can send Charles a selfie of you and Sam.”
“Oh, I’m far too old and ‘stuffy’ for selfies, Paul.”
She bid us farewell as Ben and I climbed into the big, black SUV with tinted rear windows for the half-hour ride to Sam’s hotel.
Our hotel, the Four Seasons, was impressive. The hotel where we were meeting Sam and Chloë, the St. Regis, was even more impressive. We pulled off the street into the circular driveway, and the car stopped right outside the main doors, underneath the canopy.
“Thank you, Thomas,” I said as he opened the door for us to get out.
He smiled, “You’re welcome, sir. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to return to your hotel.”
I nodded and stepped forward away from the car. Ben had gotten out on the other side and walked around to meet me. As we walked towards the entrance, I saw a familiar figure standing by the door, waiting for us.
“Chloë?”
She smiled. “Figured I’d come down and make sure you don’t get lost on the way to the ‘Empire Suite.’”
I arched an eyebrow. “Empire suite?”
She grinned. “What did you expect? This is Sam we’re talking about. He always stays in the best room available. He’s earned it. Especially in Atlanta. Come on, I’ll take you up.”