“What then?”
Her mom looked up at the mantel over the fireplace, at the family photo they’d taken when Allison was still in high school. Years before Joel died. A lifetime ago.
“I read once that you can sometimes tell what a pastor’s secret vice is by what he rails against the most.”
“What do you mean?”
“If a preacher screams about pornography, he’s probably addicted. If he shouts about the horrors of gay people, he’s probably gay himself. Adultery, alcohol . . . whatever. They’re fighting the compulsion privately, so they can’t help but come out against it publicly. It’s their cry for help. A way to absolve themselves.”
“What are you driving at?”
“If someone asked you what your dad was most passionate about shutting down, what would you say?”
Allison’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Illegal gambling.”
“Yes.” A long sigh from her mom. “What was the other one?”
“Human trafficking.”
“Yes.”
“No, Mom. No.” Allison’s heart seized. “You cannot tell me Dad was part of a human-trafficking ring.”
“He wasn’t. Not for a long time. And he was never, ever involved like you’re thinking. Never. But he started turning a blind eye. He took bribes to delay cases. Ignored tips when they came in.”
“Why? That’s not who he—”
“He needed the money.”
“For the gambling.”
“Yes.”
Allison’s head dropped and she closed her eyes. This was a nightmare. Not possible. Not her father.
“He won a lot apparently. Lost a lot too. Obviously. It took me a while to piece it all together. I’m told it was small bets at first. Then bigger. And it grew out of control. It got to the point where he’d win millions and lose millions. I suppose we should feel good the debt was only $550,000 when he died.”
“Only?”
A nervous giggle came from her mom. “I guess at one point he was down $3.2 million.”
“I don’t believe this.” Allison fell back against the rocking chair. “I simply can’t accept the idea—”
The giggle started to move toward hysterical. “That’s when he took out another mortgage on the house. And he sold his life insurance policy.”
“What do you mean, sold it?”
“There are companies that will give you up to eighty percent of the value of your life insurance policy when you’re alive in exchange for getting your policy when you die.”
“Who are the people who want the money, Mom?”
“Exactly who you think they are, Allison.”
Every image from every mafia movie and TV show she’d seen flashed through her mind. Men who broke fingers, shylocks who showed up in the middle of the night to put a gun to your head, men who killed with as much remorse as they felt tossing a bottle of wine into the garbage.
“We have to go to the police, Mom.”
Her mom looked at her as if she were a little girl again.
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She patted her knees. “Yes, let’s go to the police. Let’s do that. Shall we do that right now?”
The irony of that idea struck Allison like a brick. Sure, they’d walk into her dad’s old precinct, gather all the cops who served under him, and explain that the man they called the greatest to ever run the place, the one they’d loved and showered with accolades, had been living a lie. Everyone had secrets. But her father’s would rock their world.
“We go to them anyway.”
Her mom shook her head. “It’s not what you’re thinking. No, it isn’t. The reason we can’t go to the police is that there’s no crime. This isn’t the mafia we’re talking about. The loans were legitimate. The men your father borrowed the money from are not criminals. They’re businesspeople. Not savory, no. But there’s nothing illegal about the way they loaned your dad the money.”
“The ones who gave him money for looking the other way are criminals!”
“Yes, but there are no records of that. And those aren’t the ones behind this loan.” Her mom drew both her hands down her face. “It’s bad, Ally. The men didn’t know about your dad’s cancer, and he always came up with the payments, and then he’d get ahead and pay them back, but then a run of bad luck kicked in, and—”
Allison opened her palms. “Then you file bankruptcy.”
A frightened look came into her mom’s eyes and she whispered, “No, don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
Her mom glanced around the room as if looking for hidden cameras.
“They told me if I tried to file for bankruptcy, life would get extremely unpleasant for me and for you and for Parker. They weren’t bluffing, Ally.”
“Now they are committing a crime.”
“No, they’re not. You know that. How many times would your dad come home with stories like this where there was no hard evidence to even arrest someone? No proof. There was nothing he could do then, and there’s nothing we can do now.”
“You’re telling me there’s no way to get out of this.”
“Only by paying off the debt.” Her mom stopped and peered at the spot where the last professional photo of her mom and dad had sat. “It’s funny. I can’t even look at his picture. I can’t believe he did this. Can’t believe he did it to you, to me, to Parker . . . and yet I still love him. I can’t help it. I still love him.” She glanced at Allison. “Does that make any sense?”
It made more sense than Allison wanted it to. She wanted to lash out at him for the lies, rush up to him and scream at him for the horrible things he’d done. She wanted to hate him and rip him from her memories. Hate him for all the harsh comments he’d made through the years, hate him for being married to his job instead of her mom, hate him for always harping on following the rules, hate him for loving Joel more than Parker or her.
She took a moment to settle and push the anger from her mind.
“So we’ll owe $400,000 once the house sells?” Allison asked.
“We? No, not we. This is my problem, not yours.”
“And the debt is accruing interest every month.”
“Yes.”
They sat in silence, glancing at each other uncomfortably.
Finally Allison said, “When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t. I mean, I was going to get into an apartment first, then bring you over and—”
“With what money?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s why you were up on the ladder, isn’t it? Trying to fix the gutters before potential buyers start dropping in.”
Her mom’s head bobbed in affirmation.
“You should have told me. There’s no reason to carry this alone.”
“Yes, there is. I didn’t want to drag you into—”
“You didn’t. I’m choosing to jump in.” Allison pulled out her phone and started making notes.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to get Parker to help.”
Her mom released a bitter humph. “Good luck with that. You’d have to find him first.”
“I will. And I want the contact info on the loan sharks.”
“Okay.”
“You said they wanted their money sooner rather than later. What does that mean?”
“I told them I was selling my house, so they’d get at least $150,000 soon.”
“After you get them that, how much will the monthly payment be?”
“They want a minimum of $12,000 a month.”
Allison blew out a low whistle. “Wow.”
“How is your business going? Can it help? I’ll pay you back, of course.”
Allison stared at her mom for ten seconds. She wouldn’t lie to her mom, but she didn’t want to add another stone of worry to her mom’s load by describing the lack of accounts or her strained relationship with Kayla. And yet Allison had to let her mom know her floundering business wouldn’t be much help in paying off the massive debt.
<
br /> Even if she stripped her expenses to the bone and combined that money with what her mom brought in from teaching, they’d still be thousands short each month.
“Al?”
“It could be better.”
Her mom frowned. “I thought you two were getting accounts.”
“We are, we have . . . but the accounts are small. Sporadic. We get one and lose one. We haven’t found that anchor client yet. We’re making survival money but not big money yet. So we don’t have an assistant, which would allow us to—”
“I can quit the school and come and—”
“Nope. Let’s not make this about me. We are going to get you out of this. Somehow. Some way. First, you’re going to move in with me immediately. That way the house will show clean, and I can take care of you while you heal.”
They stared at each other for what seemed years, till her mom dropped her gaze and slumped back on the couch.
“I have some money saved from the divorce,” Allison finally said. “And I can take out a home equity loan.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can.” Allison glanced at her watch. She had to go. “I have an appointment, Mom.”
“Yes. Go.”
Allison stood, walked over to her mom, and kissed her on the forehead.
“What are we going to do, Ally?”
“Simple. We’re going to pray for a miracle.”
The miracle came twenty-four hours later.
four
ALLISON’S CELL PHONE RANG AS she and her mom watched a new Netflix series, and she stared at the caller ID for five seconds before answering. Derrek Wright? Calling her in the evening? Curious.
Derrek Wright. Her business associate for six years. Early fifties with twenty-five years of success behind him. Friend. Sort-of mentor. Encourager. He’d offered sage advice as she and Kayla started their architecture firm. Listened to her struggles to find decent clients. Even sent them potential clients who didn’t fit Derrek’s ideal customer profile. Didn’t matter that ninety percent of them were time wasters and the others never paid. His intentions were good. They’d had coffee once or twice a quarter over the past four years, sometimes with Kayla, sometimes just the two of them, always professionally appropriate. She hadn’t talked to Derrek in at least three months. The last two times she’d called she hadn’t heard back. So he was due to reach out. But after work? Odd.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Allison.” His deep voice held a hint of laughter. “How are you this evening?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” The smile was still there. “Did I catch you at an inopportune time to chat for a few minutes?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay then.” The smile in his voice vanished. Which meant this wasn’t personal. It was a business call.
“How is your firm doing?”
Allison waved at her mom to keep watching and stepped into the kitchen. “Two steps forward, one step back. Too often it’s two steps forward, two steps back.”
“I understand.” He paused and blew out a slow breath. “More importantly, how is your relationship with your partner going? Kayla, isn’t it?”
She laughed. “I thought marriage was hard. In some ways, this is harder.”
“Ah yes.” Derrek chuckled. “The reality of being around your business partner for longer hours than your life partner. And under conditions often more stressful. This is a common occurrence.”
“Exactly.”
“What I’ve seen is that this predicament can often change if you choose the right partner. For example, Rod and I haven’t had one disagreement in the past six years.”
“But then again, Rod’s been gone for the past four years, hasn’t he?” Allison asked.
Derrek chuckled again, and this time it sounded forced. “Good memory, but even so, we were the right fit for each other till he decided he liked the sunshine of Hawaii better than the rain clouds of Seattle. And he’s actually still an owner in the company. We’re working on a plan for him to sell his shares. Should be fully out in another three or four weeks. That puts me in an interesting position. I need another Rod in my company.”
This was crazy. He was talking about her, wasn’t he?
“I want to grow my firm. I don’t need any more money—I make far more than necessary—but I do want to see how big I can make this company. And I can’t do it alone. I need someone who can not only draft but go after new clients. Drawing skills and people skills. I need someone who can balance me out. I need someone who understands the mentality of not working for someone else, who understands being their own boss.”
He paused and went silent.
“Derrek?”
“Yes, Allison.”
She hesitated, not quite believing the words that were about to come out of her mouth. Not believing that God could be answering her prayer in a way beyond what she’d imagined.
“You’re asking me if I want to be your partner.”
“Yes. That is correct.” He chuckled. “I am.”
“I’m . . . I don’t know what to say. My mom . . . I mean . . . Derrek, I’m a little speechless right now. This is—”
“I should back up half a step, Allison. What I’m asking for right now is if you’ll take time to pray about it. See if God is part of that idea. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past week, and now it’s your turn. If you don’t feel like God is leading you to this, that is completely acceptable. However, if you feel—after praying about it—that you want to pursue a course where we join forces, I think there would be an exciting road ahead for both of us. I’m not getting any younger. Someday—not for years, mind you—I’m going to be more interested in navigating the waters of Puget Sound on my sailboat than navigating the intricacies of new client contracts and designing new buildings.”
Allison’s mind reeled. How many days ago had she prayed? Two? Three? Derrek’s company was one of the top ten firms in the Puget Sound region. Could this be happening? Yes, but she had a major problem. What about Kayla? She couldn’t break off her partnership with Kayla. It wouldn’t be fair. There was no way she could leave her without a partner, without someone who could handle the drawings as well as Allison could. But this would save her mom. Wasn’t this the answer she’d dreamed of? No. It was better.
Lord? Lord, is this happening?
“Are you still there, Allison?”
“Yes. Yes.” She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and tried to breathe steadily. “I’m sorry, I’m just . . . This is a surprise.”
“I understand. And I’m sorry to disturb you after hours, but I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position by calling during the day, when perhaps you wouldn’t be able to talk freely, with your partner perchance nearby, or at the very least put you in a position to have to explain a phone call from me and concoct a story that wasn’t true about the nature of the conversation.”
“No. Right. I mean, yes, I’m glad you called now.”
“Good. Then let’s proceed in this manner if it’s acceptable to you. I’ll let you think about it, talk to any confidants, and pray about it. Then I’ll wait to hear from you. Please know, there’s no rush for this to happen. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Sure, yes . . . I mean, I’ll get back to you soon.” Allison shook her head. “No, wait, I’m ready right now. This is . . . an answer.”
Derrek chuckled. “I’ve gotten along okay without you here, so like I said, take your time. I’m ready for as long as it takes you to decide what God wants you to do and what you want to do. Not that those two things are mutually exclusive.”
“Derrek?”
“Yes?”
“What I mean is, your call is a direct answer to a prayer. I want to meet.”
“All right, then let’s make that happen sooner rather than later.”
“Great.”
“I can meet you tomorrow morning. Say ten?”
“Can we make it ten fifteen? I have
a conference call that’s going to last till—”
“I’d prefer ten, but if your conference call is critical, I can—”
“Not a problem, Derrek. I’m a competent juggler. I can make ten work.”
Derrek chuckled. “Then ten it is. Do you have a preference as to where?”
Yes, she did. She wanted it to be on her turf. A place where she felt at home.
“Let’s meet at The Vogue.”
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After ending the call, Allison stared at her phone till all the blood had rushed from her hand. This was it. The miracle. A miracle with a major problem. Yes, she’d wanted to kill Kayla lately, but Kayla was a partner she loved. A partner who was a sister. A partner she would never leave hanging.
But wasn’t that what she’d be doing to her mom if she didn’t take the partnership with Derrek? A partnership with Derrek meant serious money, not only from a monthly salary, but from profit sharing. With Allison’s sales skills and Derrek’s reputation, she could imagine them easily snagging two or three major clients within six months. And a slew of minor ones would be tantalizing frosting on top of the cake.
Allison leaned on the kitchen counter, palms wide, then stood up straight and paced, fingers rubbing both temples. The answer was simple. Clone herself. Argh! There had to be a way to take care of Kayla and be able to work for Derrek. But there wasn’t. Wait. She could ask Derrek if Kayla could come too. No. Stupid idea. They didn’t have the relationship she and Derrek had—they’d never clicked actually. Even if he did take Kayla as well, it certainly wouldn’t be as a partner. And now that Kayla had tasted the freedom of working for herself, it would be almost impossible for her to go back to working for someone.
Allison went back into the family room and joined her mom on the couch.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“I think our miracle might have just arrived.”
She relayed the phone call to her mom, and tears formed in both of their eyes.
“Do you really think this is our answer?”
“Quite possibly.” Allison squeezed her mom’s hand. “But what do I do about Kayla? I can’t just leave our partnership.”
Her mom shifted on the couch. “Forgive me for saying this, but Kayla isn’t my biggest concern right now.”
The Pages of Her Life Page 3