The Bootlegger’s Legacy (33 page)

The money from his dad was a source of anguish. Mike had never fully explained the money to Sam—he was afraid she would reject him if she knew how weak he was. He’d told her that he had gone into business with Joe and bought Triples. She had thrown a fit, saying Joe was an asshole who would steal money from Mike. Mike assured her that he had everything covered and that it was a good investment. Of course when the money from the crates starting rolling in, supposedly from that investment, Sam changed her tune. She still thought Joe was a bad person, but apparently he knew how to run a bar—not a huge shock given his history.

The Triples money allowed them to grow the church much faster than donations would have allowed. It was this premature appearance of success that seemed to create the real success they eventually had from their ministry. People were attracted to the church because it was the place to be—the next megachurch. Mike knew that without his dad’s money they would never have gotten to where they were now. And this became another reason to stay away from Joe. He was the only one who knew Mike’s secret, and Mike didn’t want anyone to know the importance of the bootlegger’s legacy.

The person Mike missed the most was his mother. She was the one who’d made him feel special. She’d been the one who was there when he needed something—she had always cared. Mike had worshiped his father based on the image his mother had created, but his mother had always been genuinely perfect. He knew now his mother had been the backbone of his family, not his dad. She was the one who had made every day something special for Mike and had never been disappointed in him. She was Mike’s ideal for what a mother should be and he missed her greatly.

The church was Mike’s family now. He wanted to help people. Where this impulse came from, Mike wasn’t sure, but it was there and it was real. He was energized to help people to a better life—he believed it with all of his being. The fact that it made him feel so alive and loved was an important aspect of his driving desire to help others, but it didn’t make his service to those people any less real.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

One quiet afternoon around three, Joe’s assistant manager came into his office and said there was someone outside who had asked to see the manager about a private matter. Joe wasn’t sure what that meant, but he said he’d be right out.

Joe walked toward the front desk area. Waiting there was an extremely attractive woman.

“Hello. My name’s Joe Meadows, I’m the manager. Can I help you?”

“Hi. My name’s Michelle Lewis. I’m looking for the person who placed an ad in the Dallas paper last year. Was that you?”

Joe felt suddenly disoriented. Michelle Lewis. Looking for the person who placed the ad. Was this Michelle Thompson? After all these years, was this really happening? He’d waited years for something to happen, and now, out of the blue, someone walks in and says
I’m here
. Joe became aware that he was just standing, staring.

Michelle Lewis was a very striking woman. Probably in her mid-forties, with a very professional demeanor. She was about five feet five and had a very youthful, shapely figure. Her hair was a sandy brown color and she wore it short. She was a beautiful woman, but she also seemed a little wary, as if she was anticipating trouble.

“Yes, that’d be me, at least if you’re talking about the ads for information about Michelle Thompson?”

“Yes, that was my maiden name.”

“Oh my goodness.” Joe felt like an idiot. He was at a loss for words for a moment. “Sorry, I’m just so taken aback. I’ve run those ads for years—I don’t know. Just to have you show up–I guess I’m a little flustered.” Flustered? What was he, some schoolgirl?
Oh, I am so flustered!
Jeez, shut up.

“Well, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have called, but I was in town and I don’t know—I guess I thought I wanted to meet the person before I talked to them. Wow—that did not make much sense did it?” Okay, having her act like a schoolgirl too was making Joe feel a little better.

“Please, let’s go into the bar and I’ll get us some coffee or iced tea.” Joe led her to a booth at the back, then went to the bar and came back with coffee for himself and iced tea for her. He probably should have asked her what she wanted, but he was flying on autopilot at the moment and not thinking straight. He slid into the booth and started staring again. She looked up into his eyes and then smiled. Joe thought he might faint—what a wonderful smile.

Joe was struck by the odd feeling he’d met Michelle before, like she was someone he knew, but of course that wasn’t the case. He had just met her, but maybe he’d thought about her so much that it seemed like she was already a friend. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head—his own thoughts seemed crazy to him.
My imaginary friend just walked in.
He was having trouble deciding what to say.

“I need to tell you what this is all about, but give me just a minute to kind of get used to you being here.”

“Sure, just relax. I’m very curious why you were looking for me, obviously—but I can tell that it’s nothing sinister. You wouldn’t believe the things I imagined about why someone might be looking for me.”

Joe realized he wasn’t being very thoughtful. This must be incredibly stressful for her. And what courage to just walk in here, not knowing what was going on. Brave, smart, and beautiful. Joe blushed.

“Of course. I’m so sorry. I’m not sure how to say this other than to just say it—this is about your mother, Sally.”

Michelle’s expression changed from curiosity to dread. “I’m not sure what you’re saying. My birth mother’s name was Sally, but she died years ago. What’s this about?” This was a much more forceful response and Joe could see she was starting to get angry.

“This is a long story. Let me give you some information before I try and relate everything. This starts with a friend of mine receiving a letter from his father after his father had died. The letter was sent by a lawyer and had been arranged by the father. The letter said that there was something this son might want to find, and the letter came with a key. The man’s name was Patrick Allen—he was a bootlegger in Oklahoma in the 40s and 50s. His family didn’t know anything about that side of his life.”

Michelle looked intrigued but also confused. “What does this have to do with me or my mother?”

Joe took a deep breath. “Michelle, some of this is guess work—it all happened a long time ago—but it seems likely that your mother, Sally Thompson, was Patrick Allen’s girlfriend for a period of time in the early 1950s.” Joe stopped.

Michelle looked thoughtful, troubled and sad—all at the same time. Joe realized that he hadn’t thought this through well enough. He hadn’t really considered how the daughter might react—this could be devastating to her and he was beginning to regret the whole thing. He wanted to comfort Michelle, but she was giving him a look that suggested she wouldn’t accept his comfort.

“Mr. Meadows, I still don’t understand why you were trying to get in touch with me. I’m sure it couldn’t be to just discuss some ancient, slanderous rumors about my mother. My mother died right after I was born, so of course I didn’t know her. She died in Chicago and what that has to do with some guy in Oklahoma City, I have no idea. Something about this whole thing strikes me as a little unseemly and I think I’ve heard enough, so unless there’s something more useful to discuss, I’ll be leaving.”

My God. She was leaving. She was pissed. Joe had always envisioned this as a joyous occasion. What an idiot he’d been. What should he do now?

Michelle stood to leave.

“Wait, look, I’ve handled this poorly. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way. I can’t tell you how much I didn’t intend to upset you. Please, let me tell you why I was looking for you—give me just another minute or two.”

Michelle continued standing, staring at Joe, then slowly sat back down. “Mr. Meadows, there’s something going on here, and if you want to talk to me any further, you’d better get to the point damn quick.” God now she hated him.

“Patrick Allen left a package addressed to Sally Thompson in a lock box in a bank in Las Cruces, New Mexico, almost fifty years ago. We discovered it about twelve years ago and have been looking for her ever since to give her the package.” There—when in doubt just spit it out. Joe was still unsure how she was going to react.

“Do you know what’s in the package?”

“No, it hasn’t been opened.”

“Why did you try to find me?”

“I hired a PI who found out that your mother had died. He also discovered that she’d given birth to a child—you. I guess I thought that if I couldn’t give the package to the mother, I should give it to her daughter. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have done that.”

Michelle’s expression softened. “Mr. Meadows...”

“Please call me Joe.”

“Joe, I’m the one who should apologize. As you can imagine, I’m a little sensitive when it comes to my mother. There’s so much about her I don’t know. But I overreacted. It sounds like you’ve been trying to do what you thought was the right thing for many years, and I had no right to jump down your throat—forgive me.”

“I’m just happy you’re not mad at me. If you like, I can get the package. Don’t let this make you angry at me all over again, but if you have some identification you could show me so I can be sure you’re Sally’s daughter, I’ll give you the package.”

Michelle laughed. It was contagious and soon had Joe laughing as well. A few heads turned their way. “Touché, Joe. I won’t be angry with you again—well, I hope I won’t. Not knowing what this was all about, I brought all kinds of documentation about who I am, including my birth information. And I do understand that you would want to verify who I am.”

She got her purse and pulled out a file. Inside was ample documentation proving her identity.

“I’m a buyer for Duncan’s Department Stores and I was in town to attend a conference at one of the stores here in Oklahoma City. Our last meeting starts in about thirty minutes. I was wondering if we could meet this evening for dinner and, if you’re satisfied with the information I just provided, you could give me the package then.”

“That’s perfect, Michelle. I’d like it very much if you would join me here at Triples for dinner. Would that work?”

“It does—say about 7:30?”

“I’ll see you then.”

She left. Joe, still being part teenage boy, watched her walk out, enjoying the view. He’d realized immediately that he was attracted to her when he’d first met her, which was strange for Joe these days. He’d given up on women after a couple of disastrous relationships with waitresses at Triples and had settled into a chaste existence over the last few years, figuring that that’s how things would stay. He had definitely sworn off dating anyone who worked for him.

Now this wonderful woman drops in unannounced and Joe is suddenly in love. No, no—slow down. She’s just here to find out about the package. She’ll open it find whatever and be gone forever. Now he felt nervous. Did she like him? Would she go out with him if he asked?

Joe made arrangements with his staff for his favorite table to be available at 7:30. He also cleaned out his office some, in case she wanted to be somewhere private when she opened the package. He felt a little silly, but he also ran home and changed his shirt. He was nervous.

Michelle was very punctual, something Joe liked. He met her at the front desk and escorted her to the table. Joe had opened a bottle of white wine earlier, a dry Riesling that he had become fond of over the last couple of years. He offered, and Michelle accepted a glass. He watched her while he poured—he found it hard to look away.

“You have a beautiful restaurant, Joe. And I’ve also heard great things about the food here.”

“Thank you very much. I’m very proud of the restaurant. I came into this industry late in life, but I’ve developed a real passion for it. Every day is new challenge. I’ve heard people say that running a restaurant must be fun, and on good days it is. But there are employee problems every day, which can sometimes be overwhelming. We have a small army of wait staff, kitchen staff, managers, and people handling the books and paychecks—it’s an amazing operation. It’s brought a lot of joy into my life that I’d never experienced before. I love it.”

He gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

“As far as the food goes, that credit goes to two of my good friends, Carlos and Jesus. They’ve helped me learn to appreciate the talent it takes to prepare an outstanding meal. But the amazing thing is they do it for hundreds of customers every day. What they do in the kitchen is magic.”

“Carlos and Jesus—must be a story there?”

“Yeah. The simple story is that I stole them from a restaurant in Las Cruces, New Mexico. When I bought this business, I quite literally knew next to nothing about running a restaurant. I knew a little bit about the bar, but that was mostly as a patron. I started looking around at places that I thought were doing it right—I went to Dallas, Denver, Kansas City, and some other places, and just paid attention—then stole everything I could. I’m not sure, but maybe I just confessed to a crime.”

Michelle grinned. A beautiful grin. “Probably not a crime if you just stole ideas. Actually, I think that’s a proven business model.”