by Jean Oram
“No. This isn’t okay. Who said he’s stealing stuff?” She whirled on Kimi, ready to deck whoever it was. “Was it you?”
The woman’s hands immediately flew up, her face pale. “No, I swear. I have product at my house. If he spot checks me and my pub, I’m doomed.”
“Well, he’s free to snoop around our house,” Amy said. “We have nothing to hide.”
All Moe took home was the odd supplies catalog and employee schedules—nothing that would ever get him in trouble. At least not in the eyes of a sane person.
“It’s an invasion of privacy,” Moe said through gritted teeth. “There’s absolutely no trust here, and being under the eye of the estate is starting to tick me off.”
“When does he want to come in?” Amy interjected.
“Today.”
“Well, I’m sure that will be fun,” she said. “If I’m home in time I’ll try and bake him a batch of cookies.”
She shot Kimi a wry smile and the woman let herself out of the room.
Amy turned to Moe. “Entertain their strange requests,” she advised. “It’s not a big deal.”
“They don’t trust me. Why do I have to jump through hoops? Haven’t I proved myself every day for the past decade?”
“The pub was Cesar’s baby, and his anal retentive sibling is executor. I’m sure he thinks he’s doing right by his little brother. Unless he’s secretly evil, of course. But Cesar probably set things up this way so his kids didn’t feel ripped off that you got the cash cow.”
Moe’s gaze strayed to the empty doorway. “She’s freaking out.”
“She’s stressed. And hey, it could be worse.” Amy laughed, trying to lighten his mood. “You could be me! I might have to go back to nursing with my tail between my legs yet again if this doesn’t work out. I’m also unsuccessfully trying to have a baby with my best friend, while struggling not to fall in love with him.” She froze as she realized what she’d said.
She turned to flee, but Moe’s hand snagged her elbow. She didn’t turn to face him, too afraid of what she might see.
He said quietly, his breath warm on her shoulder, “I’m in the same boat, Amy. And I’m not just talking about the job or baby-making.”
11
Moe waited in the parking lot for Roald Phipps to meet up with him, as the man had run back in to use the washroom. Apparently the prospect of ransacking Moe’s home and violating his privacy made him excited enough to have to urinate.
Moe kicked his feet out, ankles crossed, as he leaned against his truck, watching the fluffy clouds roll past and wishing they could take his worries with them.
Amy had caught herself saying she was falling in love with him.
Falling in love.
With him.
He felt… Nope. There were no words to describe how awesome it had been hearing those words.
They were finally letting go. Finally letting themselves feel the things that had always been there, shoved to the side, ignored or buried. Things were going to be different this time. There’d be no holding themselves back. It was going to work out. Their marriage already felt like their friendship, so full of trust and everything he’d ever dreamed of finding in a perfect match.
Was that why he was dropping details with the pub? He’d had his head in the clouds? Because that’s where his head was—right up there with the fluffy ones drifting above.
He found himself smiling.
“You look happy.”
Thoughts of Amy and his overall happiness crash-landed as Moe caught sight of Cesar’s brother. The man was the opposite of Moe’s mentor. While Cesar had been thin with dark hair, he’d had a jolly air about him. Roald was wide, with a full head of white hair, and serious. But he didn’t look like someone ready to snatch Moe’s inheritance away from him. He looked like he should be handing out candy and making balloon animals. If he smiled more. A lot more.
“I have nothing to hide,” Moe said calmly, channeling Amy’s earlier composure.
Go with the flow, just like she would. He could do that without his righteousness making him want to slam the man’s head into the side of his truck, right?
Yeah, maybe not.
“I’ll ride alone, thanks,” he said curtly as the man gestured to his Mercedes, wordlessly offering him a lift.
Within minutes he was across town and letting Roald into his house, saying, “There’s probably a catalog for vodka varieties, a bunch of business cards from suppliers and may be a few employee schedules from last month.”
Roald didn’t say a word, simply walked through the house without taking off his shoes, yanking open the fridge as though about to reveal stolen beer, while saying Aha! Bottles of condiments rattled with his hard yank, then again as he quickly slammed the door shut. He headed to the attached garage, then quickly came back again.
“Filing cabinet perhaps?” Moe asked, pointing him down the hall toward the makeshift office, which would hopefully soon be a nursery. Once there, he gestured to the dented filing cabinet Cesar had let him take home. “Knock yourself out.”
Hopefully, Roald wouldn’t make note of the Brew Babies stickers plastering it and assume the worst, having undoubtedly noticed the other filing cabinets in the pub’s office were similarly decorated.
Roald sized up the cabinet, then gave Moe an unimpressed look. He pulled a thin pair of reading glasses out of his breast pocket and perched them on the end of his nose.
“Have fun,” Moe muttered, standing back.
The front door slammed. “Hey, I’m home.” It was Amy.
Moe frowned and checked his phone for the time. She should be working for another few hours at least, and she knew he was here with Roald.
She appeared in the doorway, face flushed, eyes bright. “You ready for date night?” She shot Roald a glance as if to say to Moe, “I have your back. This guy’s sifted through enough of our personal effects without a search warrant. Let’s make him uncomfortable and give him the boot.”
If Moe had to pinpoint the exact moment he’d fallen in love with Amy, he wouldn’t be able to do it. All the feelings he had in this moment had always been there, simply growing stronger with each passing year. And yet, right now, he’d never loved her more. So maybe the question was, when had he not been in love with her? And how had he managed to deny such a strong, integral truth for so long?
“Moe?” she prompted.
“Hey, right. Sorry.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to Roald. “I got distracted by, uh, this.”
Roald had pulled out a file folder labeled Brew Babies. Moe caught Amy giving the older man a smug smile when he found the very things Moe had said he’d find. Business cards and a few catalogs. Although no old employee schedules. He must have recycled those.
“If you’re done proving to yourself that my husband is indeed a trustworthy manager, we have a reservation to keep.”
Roald, still ignoring them, held up a second file folder with a grease stain on the front, this one unlabeled. He opened it and pulled out a piece of paper, his thin lips creased in a frown. “What’s this?”
Moe took the paper. It looked like a complete financial statement for Cesar’s holdings—more than just Brew Babies. Something he shouldn’t have in his possession. But somehow did.
Amy was trying to see what Moe was holding. It was obvious he didn’t know why the document had been in with his files. It was also obvious that it was bad news.
“I only got a Brew Babies breakdown for the bank loan application,” Moe said. “Not all of this.”
“What is it?” She tried to peer over his shoulder. It was a page full of numbers, some of them very large. He nudged her away as though she was interfering with his ability to concentrate.
Roald shook his head and snapped the paper from Moe’s grip. He placed it back in the folder and tucked the whole thing against his chest as if he was a quarterback about to go on a sprint down the field. Or in this case, out of the house.
“There’s no
reason for you to have this financial document, let alone have it at home in an unsecured filing cabinet. One that looks as though it belongs to the pub, I might add.”
“I don’t know how that file got here,” Moe stated, his tone patient and calm.
“Someone must have put it in there,” Amy said quickly.
That sounded weak. Really weak. Both men glanced at her and she shrugged. “You know, whoever framed you. Ratted you out.”
Roald considered the statement.
“Or maybe it was still in the cabinet when you brought it home.”
“This is the property of Brew Babies?” Roald asked, indicating the filing cabinet.
“Cesar gave it to me a year and a half ago, because it’s dented and he no longer needed it.”
Roald checked the document, peering at it through his reading glasses. “These dates are from a few weeks ago.”
So much for that idea.
Roald said stiffly, “Having this document is in direct violation of—of…”
Amy could see he was thinking fast, trying to come up with something he could smack Moe with to punish him.
“Moe’s the best manager this pub has had in forever,” Amy said.
Roald went still. “Are you saying my brother was not a good manager?”
“No, no. She’s not saying that.”
“I’m saying Moe does a lot more than anyone credits him for.”
“It’s been a learning curve, but I’m getting the hang of it,” Moe stated. “And I truly don’t know why that statement is here. What would I even do with it?”
Roald frowned in thought.
“Cesar trusted Moe,” Amy said. “If you’re going to punish him for one piece of paper being where it shouldn’t—”
“He’s been making errors left, right and center.” Roald let out a pained-sounding exhalation. “What am I supposed to do? It’s my job to uphold my brother’s last wishes. Not overlook blunders and indiscretions.” He waved the folder. “I have no choice. The proper thing to do is request the immediate withdrawal of the estate’s offer of purchase. Moe has been found to be operating in a manner not in line with Cesar’s last wishes. There’s really not a lot I can do. I can’t ignore this.” He stepped around them and began moving swiftly down the hall.
“You can’t withdraw the offer,” Amy said, chasing after him.
“I know things haven’t been as smooth as they were when Cesar was alive,” Moe called, “but Kimi and I are working together to fix things. We’re making strides with both places. Plus the loan got approved this morning. I’m ready to go ahead with this. If you want to protect your brother’s legacy, let it survive. Don’t sell it off in pieces to the highest bidder.”
Roald had paused at the end of the hall and Amy believed he might actually be getting through to the man.
“Kimi just replaced karaoke with poker night in her pub last week,” Moe added. “It was a really promising night. Please let me have until the end of September. Let me prove myself.”
Roald opened his mouth and Amy could tell he was going to deny Moe’s request.
“If you pull the offer, we quit,” she blurted.
If they were going to shut the doors and liquidate the place it would likely happen overnight, and having employees would become a moot point, but she had to do something. She couldn’t let Roald snatch this from Moe.
“How about I just fire you instead?” Roald said, clearly unimpressed by her ultimatum. “You’re probably not helping Moe’s case anyway, since I’ve heard you tend to misplace your keys. The pub was left unsecured last night. And then there was the time the two of you were locked in the office together with nobody manning the bar. Maybe I should do what he can’t and fire his wife.”
Oh, she did not like that. Not one bit.
“She’s a good employee,” Moe said, his voice low and careful, as if he was talking to someone perched on the ledge of a skyscraper and looking to jump. “She brings in some of the best tips because customers love her. She remembers them, their preferences and their orders.”
Amy stayed quiet for a moment, pondering Roald’s knowledge about her and Moe locked together in the office. Had Kimi been ratting out Moe? Using his knowledge to bolster her own pub, but secretly undermining him so he lost his? She’d get to keep Brew, Too, while getting half the cash from the liquidation of Brew Babies. Not a bad deal.
“None of that matters,” Roald said, “if she leaves the business vulnerable to thieves. It’s difficult to make an insurance claim if she has a history of leaving the pub’s keys accessible to Joe Public.”
“You know what?” Amy said, her patience gone. “I’m about tired of your family. How about you apologize to Moe and reinstate the offer, or we’ll both quit. Effective this very moment. Maybe then you’ll see how much he does and what a good man he is.”
“Amy…” The warning in Moe’s voice was as thick as fog rolling in off the Atlantic.
“No.” She crossed her arms. They were a team. They had each other’s backs and it was time to stand up for themselves. She knew Moe wanted to play it safe, glide under the radar as much as possible until the place was in his hands, but he was going to lose everything he’d worked toward if he didn’t speak up and make a stand.
“He deserves to have the pub,” Amy declared.
Roald crossed his own arms. “That is for me to decide, and because of your interference and belligerence I feel it would be best if you moved on.”
“Oh, I’ll move on all right.”
“We will mail you your final paycheck. There’s no need to return to Brew Babies.”
“What?” Amy laughed, despite knowing it was totally the wrong thing to do. “You don’t have the authority to fire me.”
“I just did.”
“Let’s put a damper on things,” Moe said calmly, his face pale. He put an arm in front of Amy, guiding her back from Roald. “Emotions are running a little high, and we’re probably not at our best when it comes to decision making. Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”
Amy grabbed Moe’s arm. “If I go, he goes,” she said to Roald.
The split-second hesitation in Moe’s reaction told Amy everything. She was on her own. Today he wasn’t backing her up. They were no longer a team.
“Never mind. You stay, but consider me gone.”
Moe felt horrible. Amy had tried to stand up for him and had only managed to get herself terminated. Didn’t she know better than to play the ultimatum game with someone who was all about power and control? Roald might not even have the authority to fire her, but she’d made it almost impossible to come back to the pub without someone stepping on their own pride in the process.
He and Amy never fought, but they definitely were now. Especially since he’d hightailed it out of the house after Roald, to confirm that he wasn’t actually going to recommend the estate pull the purchase offer, making her feel second to the pub.
The only good news was that Roald wasn’t yet pulling the offer. Firing Moe’s wife was apparently enough fun for one day.
Moe pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and let out a sigh that sounded like defeat even to his own ears. He’d let Amy down. Sure, he could hire her back in a few months, once the place was his. The problem was that he’d chosen self-preservation over her side of the battle. He’d chosen the long game, which meant dropping her. And good men didn’t drop their wives.
The worst part had been the wounded look in Amy’s eyes when he’d returned to the house to tell her the offer hadn’t been withdrawn. He couldn’t recall her ever appearing so hurt. Not even when Dexter had broken up with her instead of proposing.
“Amy?” He knocked on her bedroom door. She’d retreated as soon as Roald had left. They should both get back to the pub, but Marissa could hold down the fort for a little longer.
She opened the door, her eyes red, her anger so blatant he took a step back.
“Would it have killed you to defend me? To be a team?” She wa
s blinking furiously, the dammed up tears in her eyes threatening to flood forth if she stopped.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to secure our future.”
“I thought I was your future. I forgot we were nothing more than friends.” The hurt was back in her eyes and he had to look away, knowing he’d been the one to cause it.
They were more than friends. Hadn’t she felt that? Hadn’t she been there, right there alongside him, believing that this time it was different, this time it was real?
“If we’d both walked away from our jobs, then where would we be?” His frustration was coming out in his voice and he was unable to control it.
“He wouldn’t have let us.”
“He let you.”
Amy’s jaw tightened and she looked away.
“You need to ask for your job back.”
She crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “Never.”
“We need these jobs. We need to play nice and buy the pub, even though you just did your best to blow our plan to pieces.” He swiped a hand down his face, trying to rein himself in. Lashing out at her wouldn’t help, wouldn’t change things. But his pub loan was contingent on both he and Amy having jobs, since she’d had to sign, as well. He wasn’t sure how this was going to impact things.
Maybe he should have just walked away when Roald had started lashing out. He could have taken Amy’s hand in his, put up the For Sale sign and left town.
“Sometimes other things are more important than plans,” Amy said. “Things like happiness and loyalty.”
“Trying to preserve our livelihood has nothing to do with loyalty. I’m sorry I didn’t choose you.”
“It’s fine,” she said, using that special emphasis on fine that made men cringe. “We have a marriage of convenience, which isn’t real. I forgot. That’s all.” The door was open wide now, still poised in her hand, as though she was ready to slam it shut.
But instead of slamming it, she did something worse. She closed it so gently he could hear his own heart crack.