Chapter 3
Chapter Three
RENLEY
“Just follow my lead,” Aunt Kitty says as she adjusts her purple velour business suit with matching necktie.
“This is not my first rodeo. They’re going to try to rope us into so much more than what we need.
We go in there, slap a piece of paper on the desk, and say, twenty thousand, that’s it. No more, no less.”
“This is not a good idea,” I say, adjusting my simple black dress with sleeves, the same dress that I wore to my father’s funeral, the only fancy dress in my closet. “They’re…they’re not going to give us the money.”
“Trust me, I know my way around this joint. Five summers ago, I had a wicked affair with Robby Trent. He bent me over every desk in this establishment. I have video evidence, and if he doesn’t give us a loan, then I plan on blackmailing him.”
“Aunt Kitty, that’s…that’s not a great idea.”
“Blackmail is the key to business. How do you think people become billionaires?” She touches her nose. “Blackmail.” Then she holds the door to the bank open and gestures for me to walk in.
That, or investments…
But desperation has seeped in and I’m not above trying something different to avoid the embarrassment of walking into the mayor’s office and handing over the keys to Rudder’s Sweets.
So, head held high, I walk into the bank with my folder while Aunt Kitty strolls in behind me, briefcase in hand, on a mission.
She walks right up to the counter and slaps her hand on the surface. “We would like to speak to Robby Trent right away; this is of the utmost importance.”
The lady behind the counter looks Aunt Kitty up and down and says, “Kitty, Robby was fired five years ago after the escapade you two went on in this bank.”
For the love of God.
Aunt Kitty leans forward and asks, “Are you sure?”
The lady across the counter lifts her chin and says, “Very sure.”
Standing taller, Aunt Kitty taps her fingers on the counter in front of her and then says, “Can we speak to the individual who took his place?”
The lady points toward the right and says, “Second office on the left.”
Aunt Kitty raps the counter and then says, “Thank you.” Together we head to the office while Aunt Kitty leans in and says, “Looks like we’re going to have to pull back on the blackmail idea.”
“Didn’t even think it was a good one in the first place.”
“Every idea is a good idea until it fails. Now, get ready and watch me cook.” She knocks on the open office door, and inside, when the person in the chair turns around, it’s Marjorie smiling brightly up at us. “Son of a bitch,” Aunt Kitty whispers.
“Well, if it isn’t the Gossage girls, looking all businesslike.” She folds her hands together. “Is there something I can help you with? Because I can’t imagine you’re here for money for the sweets shop.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
My skin prickles with panic, because she’s onto us. Of course she is. I bet this is all a setup. She knew we didn’t have the money and she knew we would come here and…and…wait…
“Do you work here and with the mayor?” I ask.
“Part-time with both jobs.” She glances down at her nails. “I’m in high demand.”
Ugh, no wonder Aunt Kitty heckles Marjorie. Who says they’re in high demand and actually means it?
“Oh, that’s…that’s great. Wasn’t aware.” I nervously look around. “Really like what you’ve done with your office.” My eyes fall on the plastic vines she has taped around the perimeter of her office. “Very…earthy.”
“Thank you.” Nose held high, arms crossed, she asks, “So what could you possibly need a loan for?”
Oh God, think of something.
Anything that doesn’t have to do with Rudder’s.
Because this is the last person we should be talking with about money. She could easily tell the mayor we lied on the application and then Rudder’s will be taken away, without even giving us a chance.
“Hobby horses,” Aunt Kitty says, stepping in and pulling me from my thoughts. “I was considering starting a hobby horse farm where I’d train individuals for competitions, lend them my secrets.”
Marjorie’s expression falls flat. “No one wants that, Kitty.”
Oh no, Marjorie just chose violence.
You can tell Aunt Kitty her hairstyle—a curly perm like Blanche’s from The Golden Girls—is an abomination.
You can call her outfit a cheap Prince Purple Rain knockoff.
But insult her hobby horses?
All I can say is, block your eyeballs, neck, and crotch, because Aunt Kitty has no problem poking eyes out, punching throats, and sticking her foot right up the old nether regions out of pure rage.
Aunt Kitty rears back, as if she was just slapped, and in a low, demonic voice, she says, “How…dare…you.”
Uh-oh.
Three fighting words that lead to no good.
Before she can pounce, I place my hand on Aunt Kitty’s shoulder, mentally willing her to calm down.
“You know, I think that maybe we might seek a different route for the hobby horse thing, Aunt Kitty. Remember that, uh…that investor that wanted to help you out? I know it’s not your first option but might not hurt hearing them out. ”
When Aunt Kitty looks me in the eyes, I mentally communicate with her to stuff away her anger and abort the mission, because the last thing we need in this mess is to get caught by someone like Marjorie.
She doesn’t need to know that we don’t have the money for Rudder’s, and she definitely doesn’t need that piece of fodder to hang over our heads.
“The investor,” Aunt Kitty says with a slow nod.
“Yes, you’re right, I think we shall give them a try.
” She straightens herself out and pats down her suit coat.
“I think the investor would be a marvelous idea, better than having to sit in this room with Marjorie and pretend that we actually like to hear the sound of her voice.”
My eyes widen.
For the love of God, Aunt Kitty.
“I beg your pardon,” Marjorie huffs.
“I think we should just go.” I loop my arm through Aunt Kitty’s and tug her toward the exit.
“Yes, please, take me away. Being around her is insufferable.”
“Stop,” I whisper. “You’re going to put a target on our backs.”
“You’re insufferable to this entire town,” Marjorie says, garnering our attention as she stands from her desk. Arms crossed, she looks ready to fight. “You know the only reason why Renley was granted the bid for Rudder’s was because the business society wants her to screw up, right?”
I feel my face blanch from embarrassment.
“What do you mean by that?” Aunt Kitty asks, her tone dripping in defensiveness.
A sadistic smile crosses Marjorie’s face as she says, “Renley was not even close to the top choice, rather bottom of the barrel, but the reason the bid was awarded to her was because your family has a reputation for screwing things up and the business society doesn’t want Rudder’s to succeed.
We know you don’t have the money, we know you don’t have the experience.
We’re giving it three months before pulling the plug and awarding the store to a national chain that offered the business society a hefty check to plant themselves in the middle of Cape Meril. ”
“But that…that goes against everything this town is made of. We’re about small businesses and keeping those small businesses alive,” I say, floored that Marjorie is telling us this.
“Not when there is a buy-in check that will help the town further.” Marjorie shrugs. “That’s business. A half-dead candy store is not going to bring in the kind of business this town needs. Rudder’s is prime real estate and it’s wasting away.”
“Rudder’s holds cherished family memories,” I say.
“For you. For others, Ira was a cranky old man who didn’t listen to the business society, and it’s time for it to go, but because we have laws, we have to follow them. You have three months. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time; just call it quits now. We all know you won’t succeed.”
Ouch, that’s…that’s really hurtful.
“She will,” Aunt Kitty says. “Just watch, you and your business society will be weeping at the storefront, apologizing for ever thinking otherwise. Just you wait and see.”
“Okay,” Marjorie says sarcastically and then motions her hand toward the door. “I believe you were leaving.”
“Yeah, because we can’t possibly suffer through your tuna breath one more second.” Aunt Kitty pulls a case of Tic Tacs from her pocket and chucks them at Marjorie, hitting her directly in the head. “Treat yourself to a Tac, Marjorie. For the love of God, put an end to your rotten ocean mouth.”
Then she tugs on my arm and leads me out of the bank, my mind racing and my heart breaking.
They don’t believe in me. They only believe I’m capable of failure.
And now, I’m not sure I believe in myself either.
“Here we are,” Aunt Kitty says as she places a mug in front of me, full of her famous margarita concoction.
We’re both on mug number three, because when your town thinks you’re going to fail at something, and you’re chosen for that specific reason, there’s really nothing else you can do other than drink your sorrows away.
Aunt Kitty kicks her feet up on the table and sighs.
“I’m toilet-papering her house tonight. I already have the outfit picked, black top, pants…
even underwear, and I’ve stocked up on enough toilet paper for the entire state of Vermont to have their bowels slaughtered and still have leftover toilet paper. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Other than she’ll know it was you because you hate her, and apparently she hates you, but no one knows why.”
“Everyone knows why.” She sips her drink from her mug. We’ve found over time that it’s easier to grip a mug when drunk than a margarita glass. “She’s jealous of my talent.”
What talent specifically?