Chapter 17
CALLUM
Grandpa got home late, but I was still in the kitchen, icing my knuckles, thinking about Zeke, and cursing myself for being a fool. I hadn’t broken my hand, thank God.
I mean, an injury would’ve taken the choice to win or lose next Sunday out of my control.
I actually thought about it for all of two minutes, imagined punching the wall again, harder.
I could handle pain. But that would just punt the problem a month or two down the line, and I had stats to maintain.
This was my future I was fucking with. I couldn’t afford to be on injured reserve for weeks.
Grandpa came into the kitchen and glanced around. “I saw my truck. Is Wayne here?”
“Been and gone.”
“Without the truck?”
“It’s in my name too. I took away the keys. By the way, all the bits of those shelves are in the basement, but I haven’t even started putting them together.”
“Probably a two-man job.” Grandpa slumped, his hands on the back of his chair. “I’m sorry. I should’ve insisted Wayne couldn’t take the truck away for days on end. Thanks for using your car.”
I waved that off. “That’s not the real problem. He’s using you. He’s a lazy, mean bastard and he’s taking advantage of you, every minute of every day.”
Grandpa’s mouth twisted wryly. “Not a bastard, sadly. He looks just like me.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Yes.” He dropped his gaze to the icepack I was clutching. “What did you do to your hand?”
“Scraped my knuckles. Grandpa, I wish you could see Uncle Wayne for who he is.”
“I do, son.” He took the melting icepack from my hand, carried it to the freezer, and brought me a fresh one.
“I’m not sure what went wrong, whether it’s genetics, or the wider world, or something we did, raising him.
I know he took it really hard when your grandmother died. He was always her little boy.”
“I took losing my mom hard, but it didn’t make me mean.”
“You’re a stronger man than he is.” Grandpa pulled out his chair and sat. I was struck by how he was ageing, his hair thin enough to see his scalp under the kitchen lights, deep shadows circling his eyes, the skin of his neck wrinkled and slack.
A fierce wave of protectiveness went through me. “You’ve done everything you can for him. It’s not your fault he’s like this. Dad wasn’t a bit like Uncle Wayne, and you raised them the same way.”
“I thought I did.”
“You raised me, in all the ways that count. I hope I make you proud.” My voice shook as I shoved away the thought of how ashamed he would be of a cheat, a weakling who gave in to threats.
Except it’s not that simple.
“You do, Callum. Every day.” He patted my good hand. “Even if you never make the NAPH, I will always be proud.” Grandpa huffed a thin laugh. “Not that a million dollars wouldn’t be welcome.”
“Is money a problem? Worse than usual?”
“Meh. I need a new refrigerator case at the store. Times are tight, people get careful with their spending. And I’m trying to stock more Canadian products, which increases the cost a bit.
We’ll survive. I’ll find ways. Back when my father started Nina’s, we used to brainstorm every week.
Where can we cut costs, and still make our customers happy?
What do they want that we can supply? I’ve been coasting a bit, but I need to start working harder. ”
“Coasting. Like, twelve- and fourteen-hour days?”
“That’s just time. I haven’t put in the mental effort, freshened things up. The “Buy Canadian” shelf labels are Koda’s idea, and they were right. People like to see it, even if they pick the cheap import next to it.”
“That’s good, anyhow.”
“Yep. Tell me. Um…” He hesitated, looking down.
“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.
I could 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.”
“How much?”
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 doubt he’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.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s time. I’ve never been good at tough love.” He sighed. “Years back, Tom Evans and I had arguments on the subject. And yet, here you and Zeke are, both of you good men. Maybe it’s not about the method, but about the child.”
“I was an awful child,” I reminded him. “You totally aced it. I didn’t need tough love. I needed someone who never made me feel unwanted no matter what I did.”
“You did run away that one time.”
Sticking with the honesty I’d decided to go for tonight, I said, “That was Uncle Wayne’s idea.”
Grandpa stopped short in the doorway. “Really? You were ten! Oh, no. How much harm did I do, not pushing him out of your life sooner?”
The pain grooved deep into his face made me jump up and hug him hard. “I’m fine. I’m here and on my way to the NAPH.”
He trembled in my hold, frail against my sports-honed muscles, then sucked in a shaking breath. “True. I didn’t ruin things. You have a good life.” He stepped back and raised a bushy gray eyebrow at me. “Maybe with a boyfriend? I’ve seen how you look when you talk about Zeke.”
That hurt, right now, so I sidestepped. “I’m grateful you’re drawing that line with Uncle Wayne, finally. I want him out of our lives.” As added warning, I said, “He asked me about sports betting, wanted tips.”
“He promised—” Grandpa clenched his jaw. “Not that Wayne has kept his promises for the last fifteen years. All right. Enough. It’s done. I’ll cut him off.”
Groping for something good, I said, “Tell Koda about the shares, though. Tell them I’m counting on them having wonderful ideas and making my share even more valuable.”