Fifty-Nine
FIFTY-NINE
Zalen
I’D BEEN WONDERING , in the weeks since the Elderflower Inn had lost its Michelin star, if Mia and Nat would come to me on their own about their finances... or if that was a conversation I’d need to initiate myself. It turned out, I shouldn’t have worried. Even if Nat, in particular, looked like he wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“If you want to wait until we can bring the others in, we can just—” he began, not quite making eye contact with me.
“It’s true this affects them as well,” I said. “But I think we can cover the basics here and loop them in later. Nothing you can say is going to change their minds about things—or mine, either. So, what are your concerns?”
Mia spoke up. “Mostly, about how unfair it is of us to dump debt on you, when our financial circumstances are so mismatched. At least, I’m pretty sure they’re mismatched, based on how much this house is worth. I know we haven’t really talked about it before.”
Nat hurried on before I could reply. “We’re both from working-class backgrounds. We built the restaurant on the back of loans, and in the absence of some, erm, creative accounting practices, our combined net worth is firmly in the negative.”
He went on to outline their assets and liabilities as though I was another banker he needed to convince. I hid a wince—I’d suspected their situation was bad, but I hadn’t realized it was this bad. If I had known, I’d probably have been trying to give Mia money long before now.
“So,” Nat concluded, “we’re at least back in the position of being able to make our payments on time without having to take on additional debt to cover them. But it’s going to take years to climb out of the hole. And... there’s another problem with that.”
His gaze fell on Mia.
“I’m not sure I want to try and hold onto the Elderflower Inn any longer,” she said in a rush. Color flooded her cheeks.
I blinked, taken by surprise. “You... don’t?”
She shook her head rapidly, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining the wetness in her eyes.
“It ate my life,” she said quietly. “And I’m not trying to make it sound like I regret it, because I don’t . But I felt like such a badass, deciding to stand up to the gang that wanted to put us out of business. Then SSG kidnapped people I love, and I realized how little something like a restaurant really matters, in the end.”
Nat was staring at her, looking stricken. “You didn’t tell me you felt that way. Your decision to stand up to SSG didn’t cause them to kidnap us.”
Mia held his gaze. “Didn’t it, though?”
Nat opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a moment, he closed it.
Mia sighed. “That’s part of the reason, but it’s not the only reason. When I picture everything involved in keeping the place going, in trying to get our Michelin star back... all I feel is tired .”
Nat took her hand, tangling their fingers together. He, too, had an air of exhaustion just from talking about the subject.
“I can’t do this if I’m not excited about it. If I’ve lost the passion . I don’t want my proudest achievement to become a job I dread going to every day. That’s fair, isn’t it?” Mia sounded plaintive—and like she expected me to judge her.
I definitely hadn’t seen this twist coming. But Mia and Nat’s career choices also weren’t my decision to make.
“It’s completely fair, Mia. But what about you, Nat?” I asked gently.
He gave a small, pained smile. “Mia said it best, when we talked about it earlier. My skills can transfer to all sorts of things. But I have no desire to wake up every morning and go to a place that makes my wife miserable.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed.
Nat took a deep breath and let it out, settling his shoulders. “The biggest problem is going to come when we try to unravel all the debt, using the assets we have available. Selling a high-end restaurant for a fair price isn’t a straightforward proposition, despite what Blake Berlusconi seemed to think.”
Mia flinched at the mention of that name, but she recovered and lifted her chin. “Especially one that’s just lost its biggest selling point—our star.”
There’s no reason to rush a sale,” I told them. “You can afford to wait for the right offer. What about your house? I hope it goes without saying that we want you here with us permanently.”
They exchanged a look.
“The house is underwater, but not by much,” Nat said. “We discussed trying to rent it as a way to open up more cash flow, but I’m not sure the numbers make sense. Not when you take into account the time and labor to manage it as a rental.”
I nodded. “Agreed. Single family rentals make more sense when they don’t have a mortgage attached.”
“And a second mortgage,” Mia muttered. “And a home equity line of credit.”
“So, yes, we’re leaning toward selling it,” Nat finished.
Honestly, I was relieved. The last thing they needed right now was something else to manage.
“The rest of us will do whatever’s needed to get you back on firm financial footing,” I promised. “Pack is family. Whatever affects one of us affects all of us. Speaking of which, do you mind if I discuss this with the others? I won’t if it makes you uncomfortable.”
They shared another speaking look, and Nat gave a small nod.
“It’s fine,” Mia told me. “Like you said, it affects them as well.”
The following day, I misused work time to call a personal meeting in my office at the Hope Project. After filling Luca, Emiel, and Byron in on everything Nat and Mia had told me, I concluded, “I have an idea, but I want to hear your thoughts first.”
Luca crossed his arms. “Mostly, I’m in shock that Mia’s talking about selling the restaurant. But... you can afford to cover any debts left over afterward, right? If you have to.”
“I might have to liquidate some stock positions, but yes,” I replied.
He shrugged. “Then it’s not a problem, is it?”
“S’not that big a surprise she wants to cash out,” Emiel said. “They’re burning the candle at both ends. Have been for a while now. And this way, we can spend more time together.”
It hadn’t escaped me that Nat and Mia’s restaurant hours made it challenging to coordinate our schedules.
“That’s true,” I said.
“Assuming she doesn’t get bored after a few weeks and decide to open a new restaurant,” Byron added dryly.
“We’ll tell her to make it a deli this time,” Emiel joked. “Lunch hours only.”
Luca snorted. “Do they award Michelin stars to deli counters?”
I still wasn’t used to Emiel cracking jokes... but I sure as hell hoped it would become our new normal, because it made something warm and proud swell in my chest every single time.
“I’m sure if she put her mind to it, she could convince them to start,” I said.
Byron still looked skeptical.
“You said you had an idea,” he reminded me. “An idea about what?”
It was something that had come to me that morning in the shower—more the shape of a possibility than anything approaching a solid plan.
“I think you’re right that Mia won’t be happy without some kind of a project to pour her heart into,” I said, trying and failing to picture our whirlwind of an omega sitting around in the house for more than a few days without getting bored out of her mind.
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “What are you plotting, Zalen?”
I huffed out a breath. “I object to the word ‘plotting.’ I was just remembering that idea we had to table a few months ago, due to lack of time. You know the one?”
Three pairs of eyes stared at me in confusion. Emiel was the first to get it.
“Oh,” he said, taken aback. “ That idea.”
Byron was the next to grasp what I was talking about. “Oh. Crap. That’s... actually kind of brilliant. Do you think she’d go for it?”
“No idea,” I said. “It’s worth floating it and seeing what she thinks, though.”
Luca was still frowning. “What idea? What are you three talking about? Jesus, sometimes I feel like I need a decoder ring.”
I grinned, and started laying out the plan that could potentially solve two of our problems at once.