Page 70 of Against the Odds
“What?”
“Would you be unhappy if I offered Koda some shares in the store, as bonuses? I can’t afford to raise their pay, but I can do that much. They have so many ideas, such enthusiasm. They remind me of me, when I was young, saying ‘Da, we should try this,’ and ‘Da, a customer asked for that.’ Sometimes I was wrong, but sometimes I had good ideas. Koda makes me see the place through fresh eyes.”
“That’s cool.”
“The store’s your legacy, but… is it one you really want? Do you work shifts at the store to keep Nina’s alive for yourself, or for me?”
For you.The last thing anyone needed was me stuck in a customer-service role, day-in and day-out, and the last thing I was fit for was a lifetime of figuring out what shoppers wanted. Icould fake it for a few hours, when I could go out on the ice later and whack guys on the shins. I never wanted to tell Grandpa that, but he wasn’t stupid. “I’m glad if Koda seems like they’re a good fit.”
“I don’t mean I’ll give away the whole store. But having a stake means they’re less likely to go somewhere bigger, once they realize how talented they are.”
“Although if the store isn’t making any money…?”
“It is, or would be. The biggest problem is this house.”
“The house?” I frowned, memory of those mortgage documents surfacing. “Didn’t it used to be paid off?”
“It was, once, but… When you give the world a child, you have some responsibility for how that turns out, right?”
I had a sick feeling I knew where this was going. “Not once they’re an adult.”
Grandpa grimaced. “Even so. When Wayne was convicted, one of the places he stole from was a charity. A smaller charity that couldn’t afford that loss and keep its doors open, helping homeless families around the province. He was ordered to pay restitution, of course. When he gets a job, a bit of money will go to them from every paycheque. But he was heading to prison for up to nine years. They couldn’t wait and survive.”
I knew my grandfather. “So you paid some of his restitution?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Half a million dollars.”
“Howmuch?”
His smile was totally fake. “Yeah, hard to believe your uncle could gamble away that much money, eh?”
“Harder to believe he could steal that much.” Someone trusted Uncle Wayne to the tune of hundreds of thousands?Although I supposed he had some of Grandpa’s charm, when he chose to use it. “What did you do?”
“I took a second mortgage on the house. The first was when I paid for his therapy for years, and some other expenses. The house is worth over a million, so we have a little equity still. But the mortgage payments are five thousand dollars, every month. On top of rent on the store and all the costs of business.”
“Crap.” I glanced around the old kitchen, so familiar in its shabby warmth. This was home, but not if it was dragging Grandpa down. “Could you sell the house?”
“The thing is, rents are high too. I couldn’t pay less than three thousand, really, within walking distance of the store, and you’d be paying rent elsewhere too.”
“You’d have the equity to spend, though.”
“No. That’s your inheritance. Especially since Nina’s may be more a burden than a gift to you.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m making it work. You chipping in rent helps a lot.”
I can help more.When I made it to the NAPH, the first thing I was going to do with my money was pay off that mortgage. Except that reminded me how this conversation started, with Uncle Wayne and Mr. Smith blackmailing me. With the threats hanging over my career.
Go to the cops, Zeke said. Like it was that easy. Like I could trust them, when Zeke himself bitched about how uneven policing was. He’d told me about a store owner who reported teens hanging around his place, stealing from delivery trucks when they were parked out back. The police department told him they’d route a car through the alley now and then, but they didn’t have the time or manpower to pursue petty theft. He should put in security cameras. Too bad, so sad.
If I reported Uncle Wayne, and the cops half-assed it, gave him a warning or something, I’d be up shit creek. I had no doubthe’d love tearing my career down. Zeke should’ve understood why I was hesitating, instead of treating me like I was stupid.
My throat tightened.He should’ve listened to me.
Well, cops weren’t good at listening, were they? They were good at telling people what to do. I’d figured Zeke was different, but that was delusional. He’d been a cop for years now.
Grandpa stood. “I’m going to bed, son. But I can see you’re at the end of your rope. I’ll tell Wayne he’s not welcome in this house anymore.”
