Chapter 8 Mariah
Love had created this place.
My eyes roved through the restaurant, taking in all of its details, from the vintage items to the modern ones. Everything blended, yet it never failed to feel like an embodiment of the Cooper and Holland families’ rich history and culture. Nevertheless, with all this stirring my emotions, I couldn’t help feeling it was time to close it.
I walked into my grandfather’s office, dropped into his chair, and picked up my mug. The coffee inside was bitter but warm and rich enough to keep me company for a little while longer. I glanced out the small window. The sky cast yellow and lavender ribbons in a postcard-perfect pattern as the sun disappeared. The sunsets over the foggy Blue Ridge Mountains in the Upstate blessed me with their own unique depth and beauty. They contrasted with the vastness of low-country skyline in the evening. Both stole my breath, slowed me down, made me aware of God’s omnipresence, even in moments when I felt alone.
A long yawn followed by a stretch reminded me that I was exhausted. I organized the mess of strewn papers, file folders, and stacks of loose paperwork before washing out the coffeepot and mug. I’d done all I could do today, and what I found weighed heavily on my shoulders.
As I passed through the restaurant’s construction drape, levelheadedness overrode sentiment. The place was a wreck with Sheetrock residue, sawdust, and wires everywhere. Still, the financial mess was bigger than what I was looking at on the walls and floor.
I walked back through the drape, set the alarm, and stepped back to look up at the sign above the awning. Tabby’s Meats Sweets. Who would we be without it?
Fifteen minutes later, I walked into my grandmother’s house. The only reason I didn’t peel off my clothes and climb into bed was because I could see Grandma and Sabrina sitting at the kitchen table. Both had their hands on mugs.
Grandma stood and opened her fluffy arms to me. I folded myself into her waiting embrace. Grandma’s hug held a comforting warmth like a soft blanket of security and love. I took it in for the seconds it lasted. “It’s good to see you,” I said.
She pulled back and inspected me for a moment. Her eyes reflected love, always had. “I was going to send a search party out for you, miss,” she said, sitting again.
I hung my bag over the back of a chair. “Once I get started on something, I can be kind of hyper-focused.”
“How ever you have to be to get your work done.” Grandma raised her mug and took a sip. “The pork was delicious. Your sister heated a broccoli and cheese casserole to go with it. I put a plate up for you.”
I walked to the refrigerator, removed the plate Grandma had filled, and stuck it in the microwave. “How is Grandpa?”
“He fussed a lot today about all the tests they did on him.”
“What kind of tests?” I asked, washing my hands and reaching back into the refrigerator for the pitcher of lemonade I’d spotted.
“All kinds. They’re making sure he can be moved to the rehab tomorrow.”
The microwave dinged. I reached in for my plate and slipped into a chair.
Grandma and Sabrina resumed their conversation about the prices of flour and vanilla extract and other ingredients. Then they moved on to the happenings on Grandma’s soap opera. Sabrina had always enjoyed watching those with Grandma in the summer. Me, not so much. I preferred to find my stories in novels.
When I put the last of my food in my mouth, Grandma turned her attention to me. “So, what did you find in our books?”
I picked up my glass and took a long drink, savoring the cool, tart taste. “There’s no easy way for me to say this...” I delayed with another sip from my glass.
Sabrina’s eyes flashed caution. She’d been at the hospital today. Maybe she knew something I didn’t know, so I retreated. “It’s late. I’m worn through. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Grandma shook her head. “We need to talk now, or I won’t be able to sleep. Tell me what’s not easy to say.”
I sighed, wishing I’d used more discernment before opening my big mouth with that statement. But I hadn’t, and now Grandma wasn’t going to let me put her off. “The restaurant is in trouble. Real trouble. It’s been operating in the red for a few years. And now with the loan for the build... it’s... not salvageable.”
Grandma frowned. “Not salvageable. That sounds like a word you use when you’re talking about junk.”
Grandma didn’t seem to understand reopening the restaurant would include a thorough inspection of the books and that I would find out how much debt they were in. “I didn’t say it was junk.”
“Well then, tell me what you mean by ‘not salvageable.’” Grandma’s hands were on her hips now. Her eyes were communicating disbelief and disappointment. She was doing everything but rolling her neck.
“I mean you should close.”
Grandma stared at me for a moment, unmoving, not showing expression, and then she laughed. “Close?” She stood and picked up my plate, walked it to the sink where she put it in sudsy water. “Whatever would make you utter a thing like that, Mariah?”
The disappointment in her tone picked at the rough edges around my fatigued brain. I looked at Sabrina again, gaining nothing from the blank expression on her face, and replied, “The condition of the finances.”
Grandma turned in our direction, and falling back against the sink, she said, “I called you here because I need your help reopening it and finishing the new part.” Her eyes cut to Sabrina’s. “It’s why I called both of you.”
“Grandma—”
She sliced into my protest. “You need to figure out a way to fix the issues and reopen before we lose all our customers.”
“You don’t have enough customers.”
“We’ll find some more,” Sabrina added, inserting her optimism where it wasn’t wanted.
I pinned her with a look and through clenched teeth said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she whispered like our grandmother wasn’t in the room.
“You know nothing about this.”
“Tell me what there is to know so I can do what Grandma asked and help.”
I sat back, marveling at her gall. “You can’t even manage yourself. How are you going to help with a restaurant?”
“Don’t say that to her,” Grandma interjected. “She manages herself and that baby upstairs just fine.”
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my lemonade. “Not really.”
Sabrina froze. It was her turn to put the word Don’t in the air.
Grandma cocked an eyebrow. “You girls are a mixed bag of secrets. What don’t I know?”
I waited for Sabrina to answer that question. It took her a minute, but then she finally said, “I’ve been having a rough time lately.”
Grandma’s eyebrow hadn’t come down. We both knew when she was waiting for more of a story.
“I lost my apartment.”
“Where are you living?”
I watched Sabrina’s Adam’s apple shift like she’d swallowed all her courage. “I converted my van to a camper-like house.”
Grandma dropped her arms. “You’re sleeping in your car?”
“Yes, but it’s—”
Grandma’s eyes narrowed and widened with each question she asked and each answer she received from Sabrina. “You have your baby in a vehicle? How do you stay cool? How do you stay warm? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
When Sabrina finally got a word in, she said, “Ellen helps while I work, which has been a lot lately.”
Grandma had been happy or at least content when I entered the kitchen. Now the worry on her face made me wish I could take back my words.
“We’re going to get back to Kenni staying with Ellen in a minute. You need to explain to me how you live in a van.”
Sabrina was slow to speak again. “I converted the back to a little living space. I have a bed, a little kitchen, my clothes... most of them. I have some things in storage.”
“You don’t have a bathroom. How do you clean yourself?”
“I shower at the gym.” She shrugged. “It’s a thing. If you look up ‘van life’ on YouTube, there are a lot of people that make this choice, and some aren’t homeless even. They’re trying to save money.”
“I don’t know nothing about YouTube, so you can tell me, which are you since your daughter isn’t with you? Homeless or saving money?”
“I’m not earning enough to pay rent.”
I knew grandma would take this personally. She would wail on the wall like a professional griever if she could. “I don’t understand. How have I failed you that you would sleep in a vehicle rather than come here and stay with us?”
“Because I have a job... two if you count the temp work. I live in Greenville.”
“You mean you roam the streets in Greenville. Hollands have always done better, not worse, and we’ve never slept in vehicles.” Grandma reached across the table for Sabrina’s hand. “I’m not judging you, baby, but I’m trying to understand why you wouldn’t have brought your child here and just started over with our support.”
Sabrina pulled her hand out of Grandma’s. “I’m not ready to leave the Upstate.”
“Why?”
“Because everything about...” Sabrina stood. She walked to the sink, washed her cake plate and fork, and put them in the dish drainer. When she was done, she turned around to face us again. “I wasn’t ready to leave that area. I’m sorry you don’t understand, but it’s not about you and Grandpa. I know you love me and Kenni. My memories of Kendrick are there. My business may not be much, but it’s there.” She pushed off the counter, picked up her water glass, and moved to the door. “This has been an emotional day, so I’ll say good night.” She walked out.
Grandma turned her attention to me. “Why didn’t you tell me about your sister?”
“I just found out.”
“How is it that you just found out?” Now it was time for my inquisition. Why is it that all the children in the house were guilty no matter who upset the adults?
I slipped out of my chair and added a little more lemonade to my glass. “You know things haven’t changed between us. That’s why you sent us separate text messages. You made sure I didn’t know she was going to be at the restaurant and vice versa.”
Grandma pursed her lips. She was caught.
“We’re never going to be close.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. And it’s also true about the restaurant. Unless you’ve got some windfall of money to invest, it’s going to fail.”
Grandma loomed taller than me, and she did not like what I said. “Your grandfather doesn’t have much family. Between the flu and hurricanes and just being poor, they died off, so I can’t say much about them, but I can tell you this—the Coopers don’t fail. You can save Tabby’s the same way you saved Vince’s place.”
“The addition is a money pit.”
“No, it’s not. It was my mother’s vision that we would have a banquet hall in the area. God gave me strength, and I won’t let it not be fulfilled in my lifetime.”
“I understand, but you have so much on your plate right now with Grandpa’s care.”
“Which is why I sent for you. You no longer have a lot on your plate.” Grandma gently reminded me that I was no longer tied to Clark’s Diner. “You’ve spent all this time helping Vince. It’s time to be focused on your own family’s legacy.”
Grandma walked out of the kitchen, leaving me with the cost of my words.