Mabe's Burden (25 page)

Chris glanced over the top of his
glasses at her. “You and I both know this money is not for
improvements. You need to pay off a loan shark. Two completely
different things.”

Her face burned, but she narrowed her
eyes. She clenched and unclenched her fists in her lap. “What
business is it of the banks what I do with the money?” She spoke
through clenched teeth. “As long as you get paid, what do you care?
I’ve worked hard practically my whole life at Shenanigans. You come
in with your wife every Sunday afternoon for wings. You know how
successful we are. How can you hold something my dead father did
against me?”

“
Mabe, this isn’t
personal.”

She leaned forward, and
Chris backed slightly away in his chair. “It sure
feels
personal.”

“
I went to bat for you,
honestly I did. But the board is just not comfortable lending three
hundred thousand dollars to you.”

“
What about the co-signers?
Don’t they count for anything?”

“
Let’s look at this from the
board’s point of view. You have co-signers, yes, but let’s examine
them, shall we? One is an unemployed teacher, and the other is a
commissioned chef who might keep a steady job or might not. Your
income is dependent on the success of the pub, and lending money to
restaurateurs is a shaky proposition for a bank. What guarantee do
we have you’ll be able to pay us back?”

“
Uh, the pub? If I don’t pay
you back, I lose Shenanigans.”

“
And,” Chris reminded her
patiently, “we would get stuck with a business we might or might
not be able to sell. It’s just too risky for us. I’m
sorry.”

She sat back, struggling to keep her
anger under control. Blowing a gasket and wrapping her hands around
the man’s scrawny little chicken neck wouldn’t help her case. She
took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Fighting the panic
causing her heart to thud in her chest, she tried one last time.
“Please, isn’t there anything you can do? This was my last hope.
I’ve been told if I don’t pay this man back, bad things can happen.
You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?

“
We will pay you back.
Mara’s got some great ideas to improve Shenanigans, making it even
better than it has been in years. I know we’ll get the business.
Please, Chris. Go back. Ask the board again. For me.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair.
“I know the position you’re in, and believe me, I tried. I stood up
for you, but they just wouldn’t go for it. I’m sorry.” He rose,
held out his hand. “I wish you the best. Truly, I do.”

She stood, leaned in close. “Go fuck
yourself.” She spun on her black heels and stalked out with her
back straight and her head held high.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Mabe stopped by Shenanigans on her way
home. “Hey, how’s it going?” she asked Jake.

“
Nothing I can’t handle,
why?”

“
I think I’m going to go
home for a while. You cover for me today, and I’ll let you have
tomorrow night off.”

“
Gee thanks.”

“
What?”

“
I’m off tomorrow night
anyway.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot. I’ll
take your next shift then. The next morning?”

“
Okay, that
works.”

“
See ya later.”

“
You okay?”

“
Yeah. Just need some
time.”

She’d walked off her mad from the bank
building to Shenanigans, but now worry set in. For the first time
since hearing about her father’s debt to the mob, her blood
chilled.

She’d been convinced the bank would
come through for her. Chris and his wife knew her. The loan officer
was the local softball coach too. He held all his team’s
celebrations at Shenanigans. Hell, for that matter, all the
community sports teams ended their seasons with a celebration at
the pub.

“
So much for fucking
community,” she muttered to herself turning down Washington Street.
She kicked at an acorn with her toe. Maybe she should have sold out
to Aaron to start with. All this would be behind her if she had,
but she wouldn’t own her restaurant any more. It just wasn’t the
same running it for someone else. When she’d trusted him, she’d
thought it might not be such a bad idea. If the loan didn’t work
out, she’d give in to his plan to buy Shenanigans, letting her run
it. But knowing he’d lied to her, she was glad she
hadn’t.

She was out of options. From what she’d
learned of Rocko Toreni, he was not a man to get in bed with—so to
speak. If she didn’t pay him off outright by the deadline,
something really bad would happen. Maybe she should send Meg along
with her daughter away somewhere. She could tell Mara to go back to
New York. At least they’d be out of the way if Toreni’s goons came
calling. If he’d only be reasonable and let her make payments. The
fact she resented having to pay him at all was irrelevant, but the
least the slimy bastard could do was allow her to pay her dad’s
gambling debt off in chunks.

Reaching her home, she stepped up onto
the porch, settled on the swing. She tossed her shoes along with
her purse onto the seat beside her and pushed off with one foot.
Swaying, she let her mind roam, hoping to come up with a solution
to the fix she was in. She could put the pub up for sale, but that
would take too long. She glanced at her cell phone, noting the
date. She had at best another week before Toreni showed up. She had
no idea what she was going to do.

Tears stung her eyes when she thought
about telling her sisters the bank had turned them down. With what
Meg was facing, she didn’t want to deliver the bad news, but knew
they would ask. She needed to work out what she was going to say.
There had to be some alternative.

A stiff breeze caught the swing,
swaying it side-to-side. Her purse shifted, revealing the black box
with the light blue envelope she’d gotten from Meg earlier. Mabe
reached down to pick up both items. Curious, she slid a nail
beneath the flap, tugging open. She peered inside. It was a letter.
She pulled the pages from the envelope and sucked in a breath. It
was from Aaron.

With shaky hands, heart pounding in her
ears, she unfolded the pages.

Dear Mabe,

I’m writing this to you on
the very night you sent me away. I just couldn’t leave without at
least trying to explain why I didn’t tell you about my family right
away. Perhaps after you read this, you’ll think differently. I pray
you’ll find it in your heart to even forgive me.

Yes, I am the nephew of
Rocko Toreni. My father married his sister, Evelyn. My mother had
tried for years to break away from “the family”. She thought her
marriage to my father would be her way out, but unfortunately Dad
was enticed by Rocko. He allowed himself to get sucked into the mob
life. It was a good life. I went to the best schools, drove fancy
cars, even took holidays in some of the most exotic countries you
can imagine. But, it all comes with a price when you’re hooked with
the mob.

When I was seventeen, my
father revealed to me the nature of his business. Not only was he
forced to launder money through some of the businesses his “real
estate” firm owned, but he was also called upon to perform
unspeakable acts that, in respect of his memory, I won’t mention.
Let’s suffice it to say his conscience bothered him deeply about
the things he did for Rocko. One night shortly after my eighteenth
birthday, my father was shot on one of Rocko’s escapades. They
brought him home, and a doctor came over to remove the bullet.
Everything was fine until the wound got infected. Dad reached a
point of no return.

On his deathbed, he made me
promise to do two things. One, get my mother away from the mob.
Two, try to right as many wrongs as I could where Rocko was
concerned. If I could find out who his debtors were, I was to use
part of my inheritance to pay off Rocko so these people who’d made
the terrible mistake of borrowing money from him, didn’t have to
suffer at the hands of his goons. So…that’s what I’ve been doing.
Mother and I formed a charitable foundation. She runs it while I
use a large bulk of my father’s estate to buy properties like yours
to help people get out from under Rocko.

So, I hope you can see I’m
not connected to the mob in the way you think. I’ve dedicated my
life to helping people get out from under it. When I first heard
about Shenanigans, I wanted to help. Then, once I met you, I REALLY
wanted to help. I fell in love with you, Mabe. The night of your
father’s wake, when I wandered in and you poured beer all over my
suit, I knew then you were the woman for me. These last few weeks
have been the best in my life.

I want you to know I had
planned to tell you everything the night you found out. I didn’t
tell you sooner because I was afraid you’d react exactly like you
did. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset with me. I damaged
your faith and trust in me. For that, I’ll never forgive
myself.

Once you read this, I hope
you’ll give me another chance to, at a minimum, help your family.
But I’d also love another shot at us. You know how to reach
me.

Yours forever,

Aaron

She sat back in the swing. Glancing
down at the box, she reached for it. Holding the soft velvet case
in both hands she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She
flipped up the lid. Opening one eye, she peeked at what was inside.
Air whooshed out of her when she spotted the tiny diamond shamrock
in its platinum setting nestled in the soft velvet.

“
Oh my God,” she gasped. She
snapped the box closed. Clasping both necklace and the letter to
her heart, she let the tears flow. She didn’t know whether to be
elated or devastated. She settled on confused. He’d hurt her in a
way no one ever had before, a deep soul crushing pain which still
made her cold all over. She could tolerate a lot of things, but
lying was her number one relationship killer. If she couldn’t trust
the man she was with, it was pointless.

A horn tooted. Startled, she dropped
the box and pages flew from her hands. She scrambled to gather them
before her sisters got out of the car. They joined her, plopping
down on the Adirondack chairs.

“
Whew, I’m parched,” Mara
said. “Would you grab us a drink from the fridge while you’re
up?”

She nodded, stuffing both the box and
the letter back into her purse. “I’ll be right back.”

Her sisters exchanged a glance but
stayed silent.

She returned with a can of soda for
each of them. She handed one each to her sisters and then popped
the top on her own. She returned to the swing.

“
What did the doctor
say?”

Meg sighed. “He wants to do the surgery
immediately. He’s scheduled it for next week.”

“
Wow, so soon?”

She nodded. “So, it’s not like I
haven’t known something was wrong for a while. I’d rather get this
over with.”

“
It’s going to be fine.
Don’t worry,” Mara reassured, squeezing her hand. “We’re all going
to be here for you and Emma.”

“
Thanks.” Meg glanced out to
the yard for a moment, then back at Mabe. “Why aren’t you at the
pub?”

She shrugged.

“
Mabe?” Her other sister
prodded. “Is there something wrong?”

She glanced at them both in turn.. “I
didn’t get the loan.”

Both women gasped. “What? Why not?”
they said in unison.

“
Collateral’s no good. Even
with co-signers, they wouldn’t do it. They don’t want to run the
risk of getting stuck with a restaurant to try to sell in this
rinky-dink town.”

“
Oh, what bull shit,” Mara
exclaimed. “I’m going down there right now to give that jackass a
piece of my mind. Who does he think he is?”

Mabe’s mouth twitched at her big
sister’s vehement defense of her. She held up a hand. “Hold on
there, Joan of Arc. The loan went to the board, and they said no.
There’s nothing more we can do. They’ve made up their
minds.”

“
Well, shit,” Meg
said.

Mabe caught Mara’s glance,
raising an eyebrow.
How rich. The mother
who chastises me about foul language?

“
What? I’m
pissed.”

“
I know. I am, too. What am
I going to do?”

“
This is a family problem,
dear sister. You’re not in this alone any more than Meg is going to
deal with her cancer alone. We’ll figure something out.”

She swiped at her eyes. “I just feel so
defeated. I tried so hard to make sure Da paid all the bills. I
took care of everything, just so this wouldn’t happen,
but—”

“
Does Toreni know yet?” Mara
asked.

“
Unless he has someone
inside the bank, I don’t think so.”

“
Good.” She got up and paced
the porch. “I’ve got fifty grand. I might be able to get Jacques to
loan me the rest.”

“
You’re just trading one
loan for another,” Mabe pointed out.

“
Yeah, but he won’t charge
us thirty percent interest or bust our knee caps.”