With every word he read, Marcus’s face drew tighter. Our entire family flooded the entryway, asking questions and trying to figure out why Mom had turned into a howler monkey, but when Marcus lowered his hands and laid his cool eyes on Mom, the entire room went silent as a tomb.
“This is a cease and desist,” he said. “From Bower. They say that you, Mother, are in breach of contract.”
The boom of shouting was instantaneous, every mouth in the room on fire except for Marcus, Dad, and Mom, who went half-limp in my arms.
“Stop,” I finally shouted, loud enough that they actually listened, chests heaving and hands on their hips and glaring eyes on Mom.
I put her firmly on her feet and took a step back. She looked smaller, older than she had only a moment before, her blue eyes shimmering and chin bent and wobbling.
“You took out a contract with Bower?” I asked carefully, quietly.
“I had no choice,” she said resolutely, albeit with a weak undertone and a sniffle. “Things were in disrepair before you all came home. When I put out word that we were filling wholesale orders, Bower signed on with the promise to overpay. What was I supposed to do, refuse? We couldn’t afford to refuse, Bower or not.”
Marcus drew a long, loud breath through his nose, his gaze heavy on her. “Where is the contract?”
“In storage. Give me a second and I’ll get it.” She patted her pockets until the jingle of keys sounded, then headed out the front door.
We all shared a look, and I figured we all were imagining her running for the Christopher Street station.
“I’ll go,” Laney offered, heading out on Mom’s heels.
A collective sigh sounded before all our gazes turned to Dad.
His hand framed his chin, fingers testing the consistency of his snowy white stubble, his unfocused gaze on the parquet.
“You knew,” Marcus said.
A nod. “Not until after she signed the cursed thing, but yes. I knew.”
The hot flash of betrayal washed over me. “How could you not tell me?”
“Because your mother asked me not to, and my loyalty is to her above all. Even you, son. We were determined to finish out the contract and be done with the whole thing, but it seems things are more complicated than we realized.”
“Who read over the contract? Marty?” Marcus asked after their old incompetent lawyer, his brain firing behind his eyes like a machine gun.
At that, Dad flinched. “Your mother.”
This time, we all groaned.
“Oh my God,” Luke breathed. “We are so screwed.”
Marcus scrubbed a hand over his weary face. “We are. This letter says something about a noncompete. Why would she sign a noncompete with Bower?”
“Because she believed she had no choice,” Dad said, defeated.
“We could have helped,” Marcus shot. “All you had to do was ask, and we would have.”
The door opened again, marking the entrance of Mom, a banker box overflowing with papers nestled in her arms. Her face bent in pain, eyes accusing when they met Marcus’s.
“This wasn’t your responsibility. It was my fault, and I wouldn’t drag you, my children, into the mess I made. I know I’m not smart, and I have no head for business, as evidenced by my gratuitous mismanagement of the business that is my legacy. I have enough regrets without drowning you all with me. If you hadn’t discovered it, Marcus, if you all hadn’t insisted on taking over, I would have just let Longbourne die. It might have put me into the ground to do it, but there is no world that exists in which I would willingly put my children in danger, financial or otherwise.”
But Marcus shook his head at her tearful plea. “Don’t you understand the position this puts us in? If you had just told us from the beginning, all of this could have been avoided. Every time you keep a secret from us, the danger multiplies. Running away from it only makes things worse. Case in point.” He held up the letter in display.
Mom’s chin rose, nose in the air as she strode toward him. “It must be very fulfilling to look down at me from up there on your high horse, Marcus Bennet.” She shoved the box into his hands.
“Nothing about this fulfills me, Mother,” was his reply. “I’ll start with the contract, figure out what we’re dealing with. Until then, it’s business as usual. No more surprises,” he said with a hard look around the room. “As your investor and the current owner of Longbourne, that’s not a suggestion.”
And with that, he headed for the door, opening and closing it with more force than was necessary.
Mom sniffed again, nose still up but her eyes full of tears as she moved for my father. He opened his arms, and she curled into him gently, her defenses gone slack as her spine.
“I can’t believe you kept this from us,” I said quietly, locking eyes with my father again. “How long has it been going on?”
“A year,” he admitted. “You have to understand, your mother was just trying to help. To save things as best she could.”
“She should have come to us,” Laney insisted. “Marcus is right. This all could have been avoided.”
“How bad is it?” Jett asked carefully.
Dad’s eyes grew sad. “There are quite a few more surprises waiting in that box, I’m afraid.”
“Did you even read the letters, Mom?” Laney asked. “Did you know what you signed? How could they make Longbourne cease business?”
“The noncompete,” Dad answered for her, his arm around her shoulders protectively but his face apologetic and heavy with remorse. “If the shop made over a certain amount of money, we would be in breach. They’ve been sending requests for our financials, and those requests have been ignored.”
“Have we exceeded their terms?” I asked, not wanting the answer.
With a sigh, Dad nodded. “I think it’s likely.”
“Everything we’ve worked for,” Luke said, half to himself. “Everything we’ve done to save Longbourne, and now they’re going to shut us down? I can’t believe this. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us.”
Mom hiccuped a sob into Dad’s chest. “I’m so s-sorry,” she said miserably, the sound muffled by his shirt. “You have a right to be a-ashamed of me. My mother turned over in her grave when my pen touched that contract. And n-now I’ve r-ruined everything.” The word dissolved into a wail.
And that was just about all I could take.
I stepped toward them, cupping Mom’s shoulder. At the gesture, she spun into my arms, launching herself at me as a fresh trail of sobbing escaped her. Her fists, gnarled from arthritis, twisted my shirt.
One by one, my siblings joined until we were a knot of arms and torsos, Mom in the middle.
“We’ll fix this,” I promised. “We’ll figure it out.”
And I hoped with all my heart that I could make good on it.
18
Birthday Bitch
KASH
A week passed in a whirl. Days in the greenhouse, afternoons with Marcus as he sifted through the unholy amount of paperwork our mother had dutifully ignored for months. Nights in Lila’s arms, the distance between us always slim.