“These financials . . .” He shook his head. “Restaurants in general don’t make large profits, so I wasn’t expecting to find much. But, babe, I don’t know how your mother earned enough money to live on, much less kept this place afloat.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? I’ve worked in restaurants my whole life, Aiden. I know they’re not big moneymakers. It’s not like I’m expecting to become a millionaire. I want to run my family business, and I know it’s possible to make enough to live on. We never had a lot before my dad died, but we never wanted for anything. And after he was gone, we survived on a lot less. There’s no mortgage on the house or the restaurant, and the summer crowd brings in enough to cover the winter months when the restaurant is closed.”
“Under normal circumstances, reopening a profitable restaurant during high season should earn you a living. But I looked over the last few years, and it appears your mom was living off the good graces of the community. She had a handful of regular customers, most of whom tipped her outrageously, like fifty bucks on an eleven-dollar lunch, and her catering earnings are the same way.” He moved the other chair from the corner of the room over beside his and said, “Come here—take a look.”
She sat down, scanning the ledgers as he explained.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think the restaurant was a poorly managed front for a drug dealer.” He grabbed a file full of old-fashioned, handwritten receipts.
She gave him a deadpan look.
“I’m kidding. But take a look. Once a month, like clockwork, she catered for BB, whoever that is.”
“The Bra Brigade. It’s a group of old ladies that sunbathe in their bras. Shelley’s mom, Lenore, started it when she was young. Most of our friends’ mothers are part of it. But that’s not so strange that they’d have her cater a monthly get-together.”
“No, but the strange part is that her fee for their luncheons was eighteen dollars a plate, which includes about ten percent profit. That’s normal for catering. But see what they paid?”
When she saw the receipt, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “That’s more than double the cost.”
“Exactly. And they added gratuities on top of it. Look at this. Shelley hired your mom to cater what look like pretty big events under the winery’s name. Birthdays, anniversaries, dinners for every holiday, including Saint Patrick’s Day.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Before this year, when they hired Daphne, the winery didn’t host any events other than Lenore’s birthday party and their regular tastings, which have never been catered.”
“That’s not the only thing that looks off. Your lip locker, Wells, hired your mom to cater the Christmas party for his restaurant for the last four years, to the tune of twenty thousand dollars a pop. And look at the bottom line for Shelley’s events: an Easter celebration for fifty-seven hundred dollars and a birthday party at a cost of three thousand dollars. That must have been one hell of a party.”
“What the . . . ?” Abby sat back, trying to figure out what was going on.
He waved to the other documents and said, “I can’t even find payroll records of staff working here for the last several years.”
“She hired college kids on and off when she needed them, but the restaurant wasn’t very busy the last few years.”
He shook his head. “I don’t see any paid staff. There’s a staff schedule—Rosa, Marie, Lenore, Gail . . .”
“Those are all Bra Brigaders.”
“Okay, well, it looks like they worked for free.”
“But none of this makes sense. Shelley took over the books a year or so after I moved away, and she never mentioned any of this.”
“Like I said, I think your mom was living off the goodwill of the community. Look at the inventory receipts.” He opened another folder and showed her order forms that were made out to the Bistro but paid for by the winery.
“Oh my God, Aiden.” A lump lodged in Abby’s throat. “When Shelley encouraged me to leave the island, she said the island would take care of my mom. She did this. She did this so I could move on.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“Because she loves you, Abs. That’s what love is, doing whatever you need to in order to take care of the people you love.”
“I have to call her. No. I have to go see her. I need to understand why she’d take on such a burden for so long.”
He reached for her hand again. “I think that’s a good idea, but there’s more, and I think it would be good for you to hear it before you talk to Shelley, just so you know for sure which way you’re going.”
She sat back and crossed her arms, bracing herself for Lord knew what. “Okay, give it to me. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”
“The good news is that I still think this restaurant can not only pull a profit but blow every other place out of the water.”
She grinned, despite knowing there had to be more bad news. “Me too.”
“The not-so-great news is that while forty-five thousand dollars is an impressive figure, it’s not nearly enough to cover inventory and staff for a restaurant of your size. Or for advertising, which I think you need now more than ever. You have the capacity to serve, what? Twenty tables?”
“Twenty-five with the outdoor seating. I’ll borrow some money from Deirdra.”
“That might be an option, but Deirdra didn’t want to be involved at first, and I know she supports you now, but do you really want to take her hard-earned savings?”
Abby thought about that and shook her head. “You’re right. This is my dream, not hers. She should keep her savings for herself. But I could take out a home equity loan or something.”
“You could, but if the business fails, you’d lose the business and the house. Actually, the house is another thing I wanted to talk to you about. You said Deirdra probably wouldn’t mind if you kept the house for yourself. As a finance guy who has seen a lot of bad blood get stirred up between family members when money was involved, I’d suggest that if you want to keep that house for yourself, you come up with a financial agreement with your sisters. Legally, they each own a third, and water-view properties are rare. If you sold the house, you’d probably make close to a million dollars. Split three ways, that’s a good chunk of cash for each of you.”
“I don’t want to sell the house. Have you heard anything I’ve said about the good memories I have there?”
“I’ve heard every word, but you misunderstood what I was saying. I think it would be a mistake to sell the house. You love it as much as you love this restaurant, and I’d never suggest you sell either. But that home equity loan you mentioned? If you go that route, the money should rightfully go toward buying out your sisters if keeping the house for yourself is what you end up deciding to do.”
“I don’t know about Cait, but Deirdra definitely won’t want my money,” she said.
He arched a brow. “That’s a big assumption. Are you sure? What if she gets married in a few years and wants to stop working but she can’t afford to? What if she wants to buy her own house? Start her own business? You already have her inheritance. Is it fair to keep the equity that’s rightfully hers?”