32. Victoria
Chapter 32
Victoria
“ I heard you like the maple latte.” I plastered a smile to my face and held up a to-go cup from the Caffeinated Moose.
Denis took it from me. “Thank you, Victoria. You’re so kind.”
“I wanted to apologize,” I said, my voice dripping with forced sincerity. This was the hardest part. “I was very…” I cleared my throat. “My emotions got the best of me at the diner. I shouldn’t have been so rude. I know you’re trying to help.”
I’d needed to gargle with bleach when I got home to erase the taste of those words, but by the satisfied smile creeping up his face, it was worth it. He was buying it. Looked like it wouldn’t be too difficult to convince him that I was dumb and desperate for money.
I’d asked for a meeting at their office. Then I’d dressed up and put on my game face. I was a woman on a mission. If he really was trying to rope me into some money laundering scheme, then I would make sure he was sorry. No one messed with the food pantry. It was too damn important to too many people. I’d do anything to defend it.
Sadly, a lot of people messed with me. I’d let it happen for far too long and had a lot of work to do to stop it. But this was bigger than me. This was our community, the neediest among us, the kids and the seniors and the single parents.
Standing in his office, I realized the old Victoria would barely recognize me anymore. I hadn’t anticipated that my life would take this direction. Between my infertility struggles, Graham’s cheating, and constant put-downs from not only him but my family, I had been so down on myself, so lost.
So I’d come back to Lovewell. At first, it was to help Aunt Lou. She’d been diagnosed with MS and was struggling. I took a week off, drove up here, and spent as much time as I could with her. We took walks, played chess, and talked.
While I was visiting, it all came back to me: How much I’d loved growing up here. How good the mountain air felt.
I felt more like myself. More like the person I wanted to be.
So I went back home, finalized the divorce, quit my soul-sucking corporate job, packed up the car, and moved to Maine.
Lovewell was not for everyone. Small-town life could be challenging. But I had a purpose, and that was enough for me. I dove into taking over the food pantry and I reconnected with nature. The town took me in and kept me busy. I met Alice and Becca, and everything clicked.
So I’d be damned if the Huxleys destroyed this place. It was bad enough that our region had been ravaged by the opioid epidemic. The promises of economic relief rarely became reality in rural communities like ours. We struggled and we fought for everything we had. And slowly, this town was rebuilding.
People had jumped in to help with the lumberjack competition, which was now a two-day event and had sponsors, vendors, and a police detail to manage traffic. This place stood up for itself.
So I was here, doing my damndest, to stand up for my town.
Denis settled at his desk again. Then he slipped a thin blue thumb drive out of his computer and put it in his breast pocket, giving it a single pat.
A thrill zipped through me. Keeping a thumb drive close like that? There was likely something worthy of interest there.
“Let’s get to it. I am a very busy man, but I’m happy to explain it all to you.”
Eye twitching, I pressed my lips together tightly and opened up the booklet he’d given me, as well as a notebook.
“I have so many questions,” I gushed, a little over-the-top, I supposed. “Can you walk me through page three? The schedule?”
I let him explain every detail, biting my tongue as he criticized my financial management and ordering schedule and bemoaned the terrible state of my wiring. How he’d assessed the wires, I didn’t know. Though I was vibrating with annoyance, I nodded along and took notes carefully, as if he was sharing hot stock tips.
I tapped my chin, doing my best impression of an airhead. “Couldn’t you send your construction guys over to do it for free? These proposed invoices are so confusing.”
He gave me a condescending, pitying look. “I can see how you’d be confused. We run a complex business empire comprised of many subsidiaries. Our main outfit is here, but we’ve got our hands in lots of things. Phobos, which does construction and Alkaios, which does the real estate investment and development. And Kratos manages the properties and collects rents.” He smirked, loving the feel of bragging about his family’s business. “Then there are Deimos and Hyperion, which manage our less traditional businesses.” He chuckled to himself. “But you don’t need to worry about that.”
Nodding, I wrote down each name. Parker would have a field day with these.
“For sophisticated business entities like ours, it’s very normal to move money around, especially for tax purposes.”
Internally, I scoffed, but externally, I gave him an encouraging smile.
“So when someone contracts with Huxley Construction, they’re buying materials through Phobos and funneling payroll to Kratos.” He laced his fingers on top of his desk. “It gets complicated, but it’s necessary for tax purposes. Not that you would understand. And we really want to help you out.”
Was he admitting to tax fraud? I didn’t have a good grasp on what tax fraud really entailed, but this definitely sounded like it. Was this how the rich got richer? Moving money around to avoid taxes? Motherfuckers.
“How does the food pantry figure in?”
“Let me take this spreadsheet and make it into a graph.” He picked up his laptop, then rounded his desk and hovered beside me. He didn’t sit. Instead he stood a little too close and set the laptop on the desk so I could see the screen. “It may be easier for you to understand this way.”
He pulled the thumb drive out of his pocket and plugged it into the USB port. Why a thumb drive? Why couldn’t he store his work in the cloud like a normal person? He was definitely hiding something.
When he double-clicked on the thumb drive tab, a window with hundreds of folders appeared. Each was labeled, but one jumped out at me.
Hebert.
Why would he have a Hebert file? What was in it? I kept my face neutral as he toggled around in front of me, not even bothering to be discreet, though I scanned the files and committed as many names to memory as I could. Lots of Greek names, the last names of several people in town, including Souza, our former police chief, Lambert, our current mayor. What were they doing?
“Here we go.” He opened up an Excel spreadsheet and quickly converted it to a graph.
“These are your expenses. These are the proposed upgrades. Invoices, materials, labor.”
Head tilted, I studied each piece of the graph he pointed out.
“Our donation schedule is here.”
My heart lurched. The donation amounts had doubled. This would be more than enough to keep every person we serviced fed and every baby diapered. It was more money than I’d ever even considered asking for. And way more than his initial offer a few weeks back.
He turned to me and smiled. He was entirely too close for comfort. “See what I’m talking about? Everyone wins. We help you financially, you hire us to work on the property.”
Holding my breath, I nodded. His body heat soaked into me, making my stomach roil.
“We see this as a long-term beneficial relationship.” He licked his lips, his eyes dipping to my mouth. “And I’m prepared to be very generous.”
For a moment, I considered screaming. But I kept my wits about me. I promised Parker that I would get all the information I could.
“I know all about the diaper bank designation.” He smirked. “And your application to the Feeding America grant program.”
I nodded, though the move was disjointed, jerky. How the hell did he know about all of this?
“And the others too. You’ve been busy, applying for every penny, every scrap.”
“How do you know about the grants?” I asked, my voice weaker than I’d like. “And the diaper bank designation?”
His beady eyes narrowed further. “Do you know who my father is?”
I dipped my chin, my throat tightening.
“He’s well-connected. He can make these grants happen or…” He trailed off. He didn’t have to finish the sentence. The message was loud and clear. He could easily ensure I didn’t receive any of the grants the food pantry so desperately needed.
All that hard work potentially down the drain. I wanted to punch this smug little turd in the face. Instead, I forced myself to speak calmly. “I understand.”
He took a step back and crossed his arms.
“Great. I had my secretary draw up the initial contract.” He pulled out the thumb drive and once again deposited it in his pocket, then snapped the laptop shut. “I’ll grab those, and you can sign. We’ve got a notary on staff so—”
I stood, hitting my knee on the desk in the process. “I-I’m sorry. Do you mind if I take them to review with Aunt Lou first? She still likes to be involved and is so excited about this partnership.”
He frowned, assessing me dubiously.
“You’ve been so kind explaining it all to me,” I said, mustering all the faux enthusiasm I could. I had to get the hell out of here. “I’m so excited.”
With a nod, he picked up a tan folder and held it out to me. “We need to get started soon.” He warned. “Come in next week, and we’ll sign everything.”
I snatched the folder, then picked up my purse and backed toward the door. I needed to get to Parker and info dump everything I’d observed.
“Sure thing. Thanks so much for all your help.”
As I scurried down Main Street, recording voice memos on my phone so as not to forget any details, my confidence surged. Not only had I gone in there and pretended to eat my humble pie, but I’d seen some potentially damaging evidence.
I just hoped it would be enough.