Chapter Eighteen The Turning Point #2
“I think Mikey wants to sell everything. Pay everyone off.” He shrugged. “I dunno.” Then he brightened. “Maybe I’ll start a real cleaning business.” He was half serious.
“It’s never too late to make a fresh start.” Madison knew from where she spoke.
“I guess yer right.” Arlo drank the last of his coffee and stood up. “I guess I better get going and check on my brother.”
Madison pointed to the map. “Thank you for bringing this back,” she said.
“Sure.” Arlo headed toward the door. Then he turned and said, “Thank you for understanding.”
“Good luck to you and Mikey,” Madison said with sincerity. Olivia echoed her sentiment.
They waited at the door until Arlo had removed the slippers and put his boots back on and got back into the truck.
Madison sighed. “It’s a shame they have to give up their family business.”
“Don’t you go getting any ideas, Maddie,” Olivia said emphatically.
“Oh, no. I am not in the business of starting yet another one. Or taking over another one,” Madison said, and the two women went inside.
Viggo was putting the groceries away when it dawned on him that he hadn’t considered the table and the setting.
“Diogo. Why didn’t you remind me?”
The dog tilted his head as if to say, Excuse me? Am I your personal valet?
“Alright, alright. You hold down the fort. I’ll be back.”
He’d never had a dinner date at his house and discovered he had none of the accoutrements to make it special. He sat in his truck and made a list of things he needed to buy. He checked the time. It was almost three. Better move into overdrive.
Mikey was sitting behind his desk when Arlo returned. “You’re supposed to be resting,” Arlo scolded his older brother.
“I will as soon as this guy comes over to look at Dennis’s ATV.”
“Which guy?”
“I posted an ad on Craigslist, and someone called about it. He wants to check it out.”
“Cool. That’ll help with the bills, right?”
“Some, but not all. I’m still waiting to hear back from Kurt. He said he knew someone who was looking for commercial property.”
“Did Kurt say how much we could get for this place?”
“Maybe five hundred grand,” Mikey said slowly. “But don’t get your hopes up. It’s a big ask.”
Arlo nodded like a bobblehead. “Have you heard anything from that guy?”
“Not yet. I think his last words to me were that I had until Monday,” Mikey said with a confused expression.
“But then what?” Arlo asked, wide-eyed.
“I don’t want to think about it.” Mikey considered telling Arlo about Chief Burton’s plan, but Arlo couldn’t be trusted to be tight-lipped. If word got out that they were close to solving the case, the guy might disappear. At least for a while.
An hour later, a young man in his mid-twenties walked into the shop wearing Oakley Kato sports sunglasses and motocross riding gear. From the looks of it, this guy was ready. He also looked like he had the money. Preferably on his person.
Mikey stood to shake his hand.
“How ya doin’, man? Name’s Brent,” the guy said, flashing a smile that showed off his perfect, sparkling white teeth.
“I’m doing good,” Mikey replied, although he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was true. “Mikey Farrell.”
“Let’s have a look at the machine.”
“Arlo, you show Brent the ATV. I have a few calls to make.” Mikey nodded toward the door. He was still a little wobbly and didn’t want to appear weak. Arlo understood the silent body language. Besides, if anyone could talk up a machine, it was Arlo. Hopefully not too much.
Mikey heard the motor roar and watched Brent do a few donuts in the parking lot. When they returned to the shop, Brent made an offer. “I know you want ten Gs, but I can give you eight, in cash, now.”
Mikey hesitated, although he knew he was going to take the money. He didn’t want to appear to be overeager, even though he was over all of it. He pulled out a small calculator and pretended to do some math. “I think we can live with that, right Arlo?”
Arlo stuttered. “Y—yeah. That’s cool.”
“Fantastic!” Brent slapped his hand on the desk and caused Arlo to jump.
“Sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” Arlo grimaced at his brother.
Brent pulled a Gucci wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and began counting out the bills. “You have the title, I assume?”
Fortunately, Mikey had found it before he listed it. He may not have been a businessman before Dennis died, but he was turning into one now. And very quickly. It had been a crash course in survival.
Mikey filled out a receipt and handed the paperwork to Brent.
“I’ll be back later to pick it up,” the young man said.
“We’ll be here until five, unless you think you’ll be later.”
“Nope. Five is fine. Thanks, man!” Brent walked confidently out the door and into his Porsche 911.
“Wow. I wonder what it’s like to have that kind of money.” Arlo marveled at how young the man was, and how bountiful he appeared.
“Let’s not go down that road again. Please,” Mikey said sternly.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Arlo let out a heavy sigh.
“Listen. As much as I’d like to live in a fantasy world, I’d like to get out of this mess for real.”
Just then his phone rang, causing both brothers to flinch. “It’s not him.” Mikey pointed to the desk phone. “Gotta be someone else.”
“Farrell’s,” Mikey answered. “Yes, this is Mike. Oh, hey. Sorry, my battery must be dead on my cell.” He put his hand over the receiver and mouthed “Kurt Bahr.”
Arlo crossed the fingers on both of hands and held them in the air.
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Kurt.” Mikey had a wide grin on his face when he hung up the phone. He looked at Arlo. “Kurt is bringing a potential buyer here tomorrow.”
“For real?” Arlo looked shell-shocked. “Two pieces of good news on the same day? Maybe Dennis is watching over us.”
“As if. Remember, he’s the one who got us into this in the first place,” Mikey pointed out.
“Well, then it’s the least he can do,” Arlo said emphatically.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Mikey grinned past the dull pain on the side of his face.
Madison was all atwitter, fussing with her hair, and checking her makeup in the mirror. Olivia was leaning against the door jamb.
“You look fabulous. Chic, yet relaxed.”
“I wish I felt relaxed,” Madison said, as she kept pushing her hair behind her ear, and then in front of it.
“Will you please leave it?” Olivia tugged the brush from Madison’s hand. “Now get your hiney in gear. You don’t want to be late.”
Madison was giddy. She walked over to the wine cabinet and plucked a bottle of Fiano and a bottle of Montepulciano. “One white and one red.” She held them up for Olivia’s approval.
“Perfect. Now get out of here!” Olivia joked.
“Do you hear how she speaks to me?” Madison spoke to her cats. “Shameful.”
Mario looked indifferent. Luigi rubbed against her legs.
“Cat hair!” Olivia warned.
“And I’ll be covered in dog hair soon enough!”
Madison stashed the bottles into a wine bag, grabbed her purse, and practically skipped out the door.
When she arrived at Viggo’s, the sounds of Pat Metheny’s group filled the air with luscious jazz guitars. He greeted her at the door, wearing a blue canvas apron that said, Whatever Happens, We’re Eating It. It was the only one he could find that wasn’t offensive or too forward.
Madison burst out laughing when she saw it.
“Do you still have the fruit and cheese basket?” She handed the wine bag over to him. “Maybe we should drink this now.”
“I’ll have you know, I happen to be quite good around a grill.”
“I have no doubt.” Madison smiled. “Something smells delicious.”
“Scalloped potatoes,” Viggo said, and lowered the oven temperature.
“Impressive,” Madison replied. She felt instantly at home. The music was soothing, and the lighting created a warm glow.
“Speaking of cheese …” Viggo pulled out a charcuterie board from the refrigerator. “Confession. I ate all the cheese from the other day, so this is fresh from Uncle Giuseppe’s.”
“Excellent.” Madison reached for the corkscrew that was sitting on the counter. “I’ll take care of this. It will go well with the cheese.” She proceeded to open the crisp white wine and poured it into the glasses Viggo had already set out.
“Before I forget, Arlo returned the map this morning. I brought a little show-and-tell.” She was willing to show him almost anything at that point, but starting with the map was the first step.
Viggo looked at it and turned it upside down. “Do you see what I see?”
“Not really. What am I supposed to be seeing?” She squinted at the drawing.
“It’s an outline of your Uncle Kirby’s property. See how it extends on both sides from where the boat house sits?”
“Well, how about that?” Madison said in awe. “In some ways, it really is a treasure map.”
“It is!” Viggo grinned.
Both raised their glasses, clinked, and said their usual toasts. Madison added: “And to the chef!”
“Let’s not get too enthusiastic.” Viggo smiled. He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Madison smiled back. “Thanks. I was fussing with that all day. I wasn’t sure which way it was supposed to go.”
It really didn’t matter to Viggo. He simply wanted an excuse to touch her face.
“You look lovely.” He stroked her arm.
Madison tried to hide her blush, but it was to no avail. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Getting a little warm in here.”
“Shall we bring this outside? I still have to light the grill.”
Madison carried the glasses, and Viggo took care of the delectable appetizer tray.
When they stepped onto the patio, the scene took Madison’s breath away.
The pergola was covered with twinkling lights woven between the leaves of the wisteria, and candles flickered inside lanterns that lined the paver patio.
A table was covered in white linen with a vase of white peonies and greenery set in the middle.
White votives completed the centerpiece.
“Viggo. This is absolutely beautiful. Stunning.”
“I tried to remember the setting you had when you invited us for dinner for the first time.”
“You have an excellent memory.” Madison approached the table. “And peonies.” They were Madison’s favorite.