“Two hundred fifty thousand.”
My vision grew blurry and saliva filled my mouth. God, please don’t let me vomit in my lawyer’s office. I placed a hand on my belly in an attempt to stop whatever it was getting ready to do. “A quarter of a million dollars?”
Why? What for the love of God would she need that much money for?
He nodded his confirmation.
There was only one thing that kept me from passing out right there in the chair across from his desk, and that was the knowledge there was no way Mama could have gone through all that money.
“How much of that is available in the business account?” I was an idiot to have to ask. What sort of business owner didn’t know how much money they had in the bank? I should have known what our balance was, but Mama was the money person and since her funeral, I’d been purposely putting it off. The thought of seeing her handwriting again and knowing she’d never write anything else…it had been too much. It still felt like too much.
“Umm.” He started flipping through the papers on his desk. “Looks like there’s about ten thousand as of yesterday morning.”
Holy fuck! “You mean to tell me that my mother somehow spent almost a quarter of a million dollars on our business and I didn’t have any idea?”
How was that possible? Was I that blind or was she that good at hiding? Following those two questions was the uncomfortable feeling that I didn’t know her at all.
“It appears that way.”
I stood up even though my legs felt like Jell-O. I placed both of my hands on Clayton’s desk and then shoved them in my pockets when I saw how they were shaking, “I can’t believe you knew all this and didn’t tell me until now.” I should be mad at mama, too, but she wasn’t here and he was.
“Mia, your mother—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. There was no reason for my mother to get a loan for that much. Especially from him. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’ll get to the bottom of it eventually and when I do, I plan to find a new attorney.”
Unable to be in the same room with him anymore and knowing there was nothing either of us could do to make the situation any better, I spun on my heels and stormed out of his office. I’m sure I received a good number of stares as I made my way out of the office building, but I honestly don’t remember.
I’d walked to Clayton’s office because it wasn’t too far from Cross My Heart and I’d thought the physical activity would be beneficial for me. I supposed in some warped way, it turned out to be just that. Or, if nothing else, it allowed me an acceptable way to work out my anger toward Clayton.
Not that I could actually blame him for everything. Oh, no. That honor belonged to no one other than Tenor Butler himself. Some part of my brain tried to tell the rest of me that logically, the majority of the blame belonged to my mother. But I told that part of my brain to sit down and shut up.
Tenor Butler owned and operated the most successful dating agency in Boston, hell, probably the entire East Coast—Bachelor International. Of course, that wasn’t why I didn’t like him. Seriously, I’m not petty enough to be angry because someone is more successful than me.
I didn’t like him because I didn’t like his entire approach to dating. I’d heard about some of his practices and I thought they were cookie cutter and impersonal. To me, matchmaking was an art. Or at least a skill to master. To Tenor it wasn’t anything more than a ten-page questionnaire with multiple choice answers. Multiple choice.
Are you kidding me with this?
But he wasn’t and obviously, his way worked, because like I said, most successful agency in Boston. And yet, I didn’t feel like what he did was real. Anyone could gather statics based on multiple choice answers, but they wouldn’t tell you about your client’s deep down wants and needs and fears.
Maybe that was it. Maybe I felt as if Tenor was getting ahead by cheating in a way. He’d somehow managed to be successful by circumventing the upfront work needed in order to properly make a match. I let that stew as I walked back.
I thought I’d actually calmed down quite a bit by the time I reached my office. Obviously, though, my countenance left something to be desired because Wren, who’d agreed to sit and watch over the office while I was gone, looked up as soon as I walked in and said, “What the hell happened to you?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t really ready to talk about it, wasn’t actually sure I’d ever be able to talk about it. But Wren would be the best person to initially talk to because she knew me better than anyone.
I decided to lay it on her all at once. “Mama took a loan out for a quarter of a million dollars.”
Wren’s jaw dropped open.
“And that’s not the worst part,” I said.
“No way.”
“Yes, way. Tenor Butler gave her the loan.” It didn’t make me sick to my stomach to say it anymore, but my insides still fluttered a little.
Wren’s face went unnaturally pale and her eyelashes fluttered for a few seconds. I actually thought she was going to pass out or something, but her color returned and she simply muttered, “Holy shit.”
“Right?” I flopped into a nearby chair. Another reason to tell Wren. She knew exactly who Tenor was, so I didn’t have to spend time explaining why this was such a horrible thing.
I also truly appreciated that Wren didn’t ask me questions I had no answers for, like why Mama needed that much money and where it had all gone. Why the hell Tenor Butler of all people? I’d have to ask those same questions soon enough, but I wasn’t ready just yet.
“Tenor Butler,” Wren mumbled and then her head shot up and she looked at me with determination in her eyes. “We need to come up with a plan on how you’re going to deal with him.”
I nodded. A plan was exactly what I needed. “He has to know she passed away.”
Of course he would. Any good business person would know such details about someone who owed them money. Especially that much money. He more than likely knew I was her only living relative. I dug my nails into the palm of my hands, not wanting to think about being alone right now.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he had any idea at all about what I thought of him and his multiple choice, cookie cutter business. Probably not.
“Yes, and my guess is he’s giving you time to grieve before he approaches you,” Wren added.
“I’m sure.” For some reason that irritated me and I couldn’t figure out why. If he’d come by and tried to talk to me the day after her funeral or something, I’d have been justified in my anger toward him. So why was I mad he was giving me space?
“I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do,” I said. “I’m not going to sit here and wait for Mr. High and Mighty Butler to summon me to his chrome and stainless steel high-rise office in the sky.”
“What are you going to do?”
I smiled. “On Monday morning, bright and early, I’m going to beat him to it. I’m going to show up at his office and insist on seeing him.” Today was Friday. That gave me the entire weekend to come up with a plan on what to do once I made it into his office. Surely I could think of something between now and then. Otherwise, I’d be handing all the control over to Tenor and that was not going to happen.