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“The Hawthorne family has a wealth of choices,” Toby said. “They most definitely do not need you and this predatory deal.”

“Why?” Duckworth snapped. “Because you’ve engineered some sort of pie in the sky filming deal for them?” He laughed.“Those deals take ages to work out. The family won’t see a cent from Silver Productions for months yet. How is that supposed to help them satisfy the loans that were just called in or to meet daily expenses?”

Robbie’s stomach sank at the mention of loans plural.

“Another one was called in just after lunch,” Dad told him, seeing the question in his eyes.

“I still don’t think it’s legal,” Rebecca spoke up from the side, coming in to join the conversation. “I’ve been on the phone with both banks, trying to get through to someone at the top. Westfield Bank is already looking into the chain of events that led to the loan being called in as due.”

“They won’t find anything,” Duckworth snapped, a little too fast for confidence.

It made Robbie wonder just how close Duckworth’s carefully laid trap was to closing on him instead of the family.

“Is that the problem?” George spoke up from the side, shifting the focus of the conversation again. “Is this about needing money to keep the old place afloat?”

“Robert, are you in need of a cash infusion?” Benny asked, his lopsided grin and the twinkle in his eyes far too suggestive for Robbie’s liking.

“Well, er, yes,” Dad said, peeking at his children, as if he didn’t want them to know too much about his past. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve heard it already,” George said, nodding to Robbie and Toby. “These delightful young people explained everything over lunch at the club.”

“Lunch at the club?” Duckworth huffed, looking like he was fighting to regain his superiority, but failing. “What is this, some sort of BBC costume drama?”

He was ignored as George asked, “How much do you need?”

“I beg your pardon?” Robbie asked in return.

“Obviously, Hawthorne House is in need of donations at the moment,” George told him.

“I didn’t bring my checkbook with me,” Michael spoke up, patting the pockets of his velvet jacket, as if the checkbook in question might suddenly appear, “but these things are all done online these days, aren’t they?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Duckworth demanded, looking more alarmed than ever. “Who are these people?” He seemed to suddenly notice the older gentlemen.

“These are friends we’ve just met at The Chameleon Club,” Toby announced with a smile.

“The Chameleon Club?” Early asked from where he stood against the far wall, watching everything like it was the latest reality show.

“You’ve heard of it?” Robbie asked.

Early nodded. “Who hasn’t heard of The Brotherhood?”

Robbie felt a little foolish that he hadn’t, until today.

“I never dreamed of asking The Brotherhood for help,” Dad said, stroking his beard and looking a bit dazed. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me.”

“Well, it should have,” Benny said. “So tell us, how much do you need?”

“No!” Duckworth interrupted. “This is ludicrous. I won’t let a gaggle of old ganders walk in and put a plaster over the financial blood this place is leaking. You have to sell to Willoughby Entertainment.”

“No, they don’t,” Toby said, his smile making it clear he knew they’d won. “The only thing that has to happen here is that you, Duckie, need to leave. Something tells me you’re no longer welcome on the Hawthorne family’s property.”

“I will not be dictated to by an unemployed piece of street trash,” Duckworth bellowed. “You’re the one who should leave their property.”

“On the contrary,” Dad said. “Mr. Tillman is now employed by Hawthorne House.” He delivered the news with enough self-satisfaction that Robbie found himself smiling despite the tension of the moment.

“He is not,” Duckworth spat, glancing between Toby and Dad. “You’re lying to me.”

“I am not,” Dad said.

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