“Makes sense. Do you have time to give me a tour? Then you can tell me where you want me.” He grinned at his sister. She was always good at telling people what to do, kind of like their father.
She walked him through what was now a small grocery area, which carried local produce, including blueberries — after all, it was Maine. There was another area with some basic staples like pasta sauces and canned goods, including canned anchovies, sardines, and salmon. They then walked through the fish market, which is where Jonah worked, and was once where both Jesse and Michael had worked as teenagers. The selection was huge, and a lot of it was local. Annie explained that they still bought from the local fisheries but now they did it in greater volume. The only problem was they couldn’t always sell as much as they bought. They were still figuring out a system for that. They then walked through another new area of the store, which featured specialty cheeses and an olive bar. The place needed some more work but Michael was impressed; it almost felt like Dean & Deluca in New York. But he did notice that many of the shelves had yet to be filled and that certain areas still looked like they needed organizing.
“All right, and just before the cashiers and that lovely empty space back there, are the stairs up towards office,” said Annie, as she led him to the steps.
As they walked up, Michael observed that the stairwell itself also needed considerable work. In many places, there was just sheetrock up on the walls. They walked through a narrow corridor and up a wheelchair ramp. Wheelchair ramp? Then he noticed the elevator.
“We have an elevator, Annie?”
“Well, it’s not done, but yeah, Dad was putting it in for when he and Mom are older, so they can get around a little more quickly.”
Wow, Michael thought. Putting in and maintaining an elevator was going to be expensive. And heating and cooling the market probably wasn’t cheap—It was three times the size it was when he was growing up. He was bracing himself for the inevitable — looking at the books.
“Why not put an office in that empty space downstairs instead?”
“I’m not sure what Dad had planned for that space, but that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Okay, here we are, Dad’s office,” Annie said, as she led him into a room strewn with papers.
“Oh, my GOD, Annie what happened in here?”
She chuckled and gave him a lopsided grin before saying, “It’s been a long time for you, huh? Dad is the most disorganized person under the sun. He’s a great fishmonger, but a secretary, he is not. I could never make heads or tails of his filing. I don’t know if less three weeks is going to be enough to fix this, but have at it!”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” Michael asked, slightly afraid.
“Well, you may have noticed outside of the fish we are a little low on inventory, which is affecting the number of customers coming in. What usually happens is I give Dad my order and he handles the rest. But we’re behind on bills, so see if you can find our checkbook. The corkboard over there has a list of supplier information and our account information. That was my small attempt at getting things organized.”
“All right, well, I guess I’ll start sorting things out for today and tomorrow, I’ll tackle orders and bills, how does that sound, captain?”
“Sounds good, skipper, now stop wasting time and get started.” She winked at him and then left.
This was a bigger mess than he had imagined. Taking care of this office could take weeks alone. It looked like his father had just thrown the papers up in the air and said the hell with it all. Michael started by opening the file cabinets to check them out. They were either empty or stuffed with stacks of paper with no discernible order to them. Michael found a notebook and made a list of to do's in the office itself and then he came up with a potential filing system idea: Accounts Payable organized by Month, Suppliers, Purchase orders, Inventory Information, Human Resources Files, Payroll, and many more. He was starting to feel good, now that he had a system, he knew he could start to get the place organized and frankly, it was nice to feel needed here at Malone’s.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised but he hadn’t heard anything from his office in New York yet and it made him feel certain the end was near. He had left a message for Cindy, his assistant, but had received no response. Cindy usually called back minutes after he left a message. But he couldn’t let himself think of that and what it all meant now.
Four hours had passed before he knew it, and he felt like he had began to make somewhat of a dent. Things were now organized in neat piles on the large table against the wall at the far end of the office. He had stacks of all of the employee and human resources information pretty much settled, as well as supplier information, and of course, a few other miscellaneous items. He was so focused on the task at hand that at first, he didn’t even notice his mother come into the room.
“So, I see Annie has you knee deep in your father’s files?” Marty’s voice startled him and he looked up from the piles.
“Yeah, I don’t really know what all of it means yet, just trying to get it organized today and probably tomorrow, and then I’ll tackle it all — bills, and inventory, and whatever else you need.” He looked at her and he felt good. He felt appreciated and like he was contributing. His mother's expression seemed to relax.
“Well, you must have worked up an appetite, why don’t you follow me downstairs and I’ll fix us up something to eat,” she said and started heading for the door. Michael followed her through the long hall and down the stairs. She took him through the cheese market and waved to a beautiful young lady manning the counter.
“Margaret, good to see you, dear!”
She led Michael to the fish market and headed to the counter.
“Jonah, get the lobster I set aside out for me, ok?”
“Sure thing, Mom. Oh, and can you make me one too?” Jonah asked. “I break in thirty minutes.”
Marty replied with only a nod and a smile, as her youngest son handed her the package.
“So, what do you say Michael? Follow me out to the back?”
“To the parking lot?” asked Michael, confused.
“Well, eventually yes, but I mean out back to the storeroom first, so I can make us some sandwiches,” she said in an even tone.
Michael could tell something was weighing on her, she wore it on her face. They walked to the storage room, which had refrigerators; freezers, shelving, some counter space, and stairs that led to the basement, which Michael guessed housed more storage. It all looked really professional and high-end. His mother grabbed some rolls from one of the refrigerators and began prepping a simple lobster roll. She always had a way of making it with just a tiny bit of butter that was unlike any others he had ever had. Michael had been to tons of fancy places in New York and none of them compared, and, of course he couldn’t think of a better one in Maine, either.
Everyone else in the area seemed to go a bit overboard with mayonnaise, well, except for Shaw’s Lobster Shack, of course. Michael ventured that his mother’s “Lobsta Rolls” rivaled even theirs … they might even be better. She handed Michael a roll and then headed back to the fridge. She placed an extra roll in it for Jonah and grabbed two sodas.
“You still a fan of ginger ale?” she asked.
“Of course,” Michael responded with a smile and graciously accepted the can.
“All right.” She looked at him and sighed. “Let’s head out.”
They walked out of the storeroom and then took the back door, which deposited them on the side of building. There was small patch of grass there and a couple of large rocks overlooking the parking lot. They sat down silently and Marty began to dig in. They sat in silence for a while and enjoyed the rolls.
“So, have you figured it out yet?” Marty asked, her voice quivering a bit. When Michael looked at her face, it seemed that tears threatened her eyes.
“Figured out what, Mom?” Michael asked.
She looked at him a little surprised. “Michael, your father never tol
d me, but I know we are in dire financial trouble. Look at the house, look at this store. I mean, it could be lovely, all of the improvements your father wanted to make ... but I think we’re in over our head.”
“Mom, I—”
“Michael, let me finish, okay?” she said with urgency.
“The night your dad had the stroke, he had been trying to make order of the office. He and I had a fight. I told him he was in over his head and that we needed help. I suggested we call you. You’ve always had a head for numbers and you work in finance, for God’s sake. He started screaming and then throwing papers everywhere. I stormed out and when he didn’t come home that night, I just thought he slept in his office. Something he has been doing more frequently lately …”
Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But it was all starting to make sense. The house was a wreck, Dad probably wasn’t home much, leaving it all to Mom, while he tried to make his dreams come alive. But it almost cost his father his life and his family. Michael had to do something. He didn’t know what yet, but something needed to be done.
His mother continued. “… I came back early the next morning to try to talk to your father. I wanted to talk it through with him and apologize for yelling. Ever since those McAllisters renovated their store, he’s had this idea in his head that a little market like ours wasn’t enough. But unlike us, the McAllisters have a lot of money behind them. Dana McAllister's husband is an attorney, so they had a lot of their own money to put into the business. Anyway, your father saw what they’ve done and wanted to make Malone’s a destination, too. Problem is that now we have a second mortgage on the house, and fewer people shop here, well, because, well … you saw it in there … I just don’t know what to do.” She began to cry.
Michael hugged her and said, “Mom, I had no idea.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He knew Annie certainly couldn’t help any more than she already was doing. Raising three kids and having a husband constantly being deployed overseas wasn’t an easy life … and certainly not the most lucrative. Jonah was just a college student, and Judy was still just a high school student. Michael couldn’t do this either … but he certainly could bail them out — if they would let him. Paying the mortgage was one thing though, but Malone’s market was another thing. Malone’s Market was his Dad’s pride and joy and something he had refused to be a part of up until now.
“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Michael. I could sense something was going on with you, too. But this time I need you. I just can’t do this alone anymore. Annie and the kids are great but I can’t share this with them. But I also can’t shoulder this guilt or this knowledge alone anymore.”
She paused and looked straight into Michael’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to move back here, Michael. I see the look of worry in your eyes. But I am asking you to forgive your father and understand him. He knew he couldn’t do this alone forever and that’s why he wanted you, Annie, and Jesse to be a part of Malone’s Market.”
Michael looked at her, unsure of what to say. Not this again. It wasn’t his dream. Hell, he wasn’t sure what his dream was, anymore.
“Your father has too much pride to ask you for help, Michael … and too much pride to ask for your forgiveness, so if you can’t apologize for your part of it, just try not to upset him today when we go to the hospital. He’s nervous about seeing you and he probably wants to pretend that nothing is wrong … just go along with that for now. It’s all I ask.”
She looked so sad and defeated. Michael was stewing inside a little about what his mother had said, but couldn’t let it show. She clearly thought the way he handled things all these years had been wrong. Maybe she was right. But he still didn’t like this. He had always hated confrontation. He couldn’t do it when he was eighteen and preparing for college, and even now he hadn’t been able to confront work with the fact that he knew they were going to get rid of him, and he’d been avoiding this visit for the past thirteen years. He had to stop running away. No matter how scared he was to face his father tonight, he would do it. And then he could stop being scared of what would happen if he saw him again, because he would have made the choice to go and speak with his father and be the bigger man and end this. Even though the past few days had been tough, they’d also been nice. He felt like he was getting to know both Judy and Jonah in a new light. And he also felt like his mother was finally treating him like an adult, by telling him how she really felt. He sighed.
“Mom, I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I know I didn’t handle things very well when I left Maine for New York. There were so many times when I wanted to come back, but I wouldn’t let myself. I couldn’t let Dad be right. But I don’t know what that’s accomplishing anymore. I don’t care about being right anymore, or who’s right and who’s wrong. It doesn’t matter anymore. I want to help anyway I can. Any way you’ll let me. And I will be on my best behavior tonight when we go see Dad.”
She looked at him skeptically but smiled stiffly and said, “Okay, then. Well, let’s get back to work, Mikey!” She rose and Michael followed.
Michael went back to the office and sat in his father's chair. It was the only imposing item in the office. It was a large, overstuffed leather chair on wheels, like ones you’d see in a law office. He sat in the chair and let the weight of his mother’s words sit with him. He had to stop letting things just happen. It was like he was fourteen again. He had taken a firm stand only once in his life, and it didn’t sit well with him. But now he was going to do the right thing. But first he had to see how bad things actually were at Malone’s Market and he had to see if he could salvage his relationship with his family. For the first time his career was going to take a backseat to this rest of his life — and he liked the way that felt.
Chapter 5
Michael was infuriated. He had never encountered anyone more stubborn or ridiculous in his whole life. He had gone to the hospital earlier that evening with his Mother, his siblings, and even his nephews, to see his father. Needless to say, it didn’t go well. His father was in bad shape but even with half his body being immobile, and even dressed in a skimpy hospital gown, he still looked imposing. Michael played the exchange over in his head as he drove around aimlessly in Gray Harbor.
His father had been sitting up in his bed, his left hand clutching his right in his lap, with a bored look on his big face. His skin looked gray, and although he looked weak, you could see he was a strong man. You could also see a little bit of Jesse in his eyes and that strong Malone chin and jawline. Marty said to James, “Look who’s here, James. Mikey is in town to visit and he’s been a big help at the market and around the house this week.” Marty put on a smiling face as she addressed her husband.
“Hi, Dad,” Michael said tentatively.
His Dad chose not to respond to him. Instead, he turned to Marty and struggled to get the words out, “I wanta you ta ta tell your son he’s not welcome here. I’m tired.”
Marty’s face fell. “James ...” she said pleadingly.
“No, Mom, it’s okay. I should have known better.” Michael’s anger was building and his face began to get red.
“Dad, I understand that I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I care about this family and about you, and I’m here to see you. And I’m here to help if I can. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come here.”
There. He had said it.
His father appeared to be listening. Michael could see it in his eyes. Or, at least he thought he saw something in his eyes. He thought James was going to address him, but instead, James stammered and said with some difficulty, “Marty, it’s late. Why don’t you all justa leave.”
Michael shook his head and then stormed out of the room.
A few minutes later, Marty shepherded everyone else out of his room. Michael drove them all home in silence. They picked up some food from the Dairy Barn but Michael opted to spend the rest of the evening alone. He just didn’t want to talk about it
all. After he dropped everyone off, he just started driving. He must have circled the block at least fifty times, and somehow he ended up at the Warren Inn. He had heard that they had a decent bar and decided that it might be just what he needed tonight. A drink and someplace where he could just forget everything that had just happened. He drove past the Inn’s sign, and past its Adirondack chairs, and then parked in the lot. Looked like it was a slow night so far … probably typical for a Monday, he supposed. New Yorkers made every night a drinking night, but that was not the case in Maine.
He got out of the car and checked his reflection in the window of the driver’s side. He looked presentable in his polo shirt from the morning and his jeans. He mussed with his hair a bit and decided to leave on his driving glasses. He usually wore contacts, or walked around a bit blurry, but he felt most comfortable in his designer tortoise shell glasses. When he was younger, he always felt like his glasses were really a mask behind which he could hide. Tonight, he felt like he wanted to hide away from the whole world. He breathed in and walked to the front of the Inn, looking for an entrance to the Tavern.
He walked to the reception area to ask about it. He looked around. The place looked great. It had a lovely fireplace and big comfortable blue upholstered French Country chairs with a worn mahogany wood. On his right was a small gift shop, which was really an alcove with Maine-centric trinkets. Just beyond the gift shop was the reception desk. Bob Adams from McAllister's really had done a great job with this place. Michael inquired about the bar and discovered there was an outdoor side entrance but that it was accessible from inside the Inn, as well. He walked down the corridor to the left as he was directed and came upon a quaint bar and restaurant area. It had chunky wood tables and chairs and a full bar with old fashioned ‘milking style’ wood bar stools and a large mirrored wall behind the bar. The rest of the walls were plank wood, giving it the feel of a ship. There were even little models of boats on the large stone hearth that was in the center of the room. There was one large flat screen television in the corner.
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