Chapter 4 #3
I squint at her. "Where else could they have ordered them from? We are Harwicke's sole bookstore." A little frown tugs at my lips. Minnie waves a hand. "You know what that means. They got them at a better rate because they bought them on some discount website or something."
I pick up the stack of invoices from beside the cash register and shuffle them, peering at the books. "They have to take them. We special ordered them."
Aunt Minnie shrugs. "We can send them back, can't we?"
"No. I was very clear with the guys from the Morgan Foundation who I spoke with on the phone. The books are not returnable. And we are not taking them back. They have to be picked up and signed for by someone from the Morgan family."
"I will call them, okay?" Minnie's lips twitch. "Those damn Morgans. It isn’t enough that they’re so rich that they have more money than God himself. They are the wealthiest family in town, and they’re the main source of charitable donations for the local hospitals and sports teams. They have all those ridiculous gala events at their fancy house that overlooks the town. It's outrageous, really."
I set the stack of papers down and look at her quite seriously.
"They have to pick up the books. I know that they are trying to use their charitable foundation to organize some kind of Christmas giveaway.
We have heard about it at Hope House. But they cannot just expect us to eat the cost of those children's books. They were expensive!"
Aunt Minnie drops the drapes, leaning on the counter.
She looks out of breath suddenly, which is a little weird.
"This is the fourth year that something has gone wrong with their order around this time of year.
And it is never something on our end. It's always something on their end, like they don't have the right book or they don't have enough.
Remember last year when they said that they ordered twice as many copies of Thomas The Tank Engine than they actually did? "
I grit my teeth. "Boy, do I. Every single time this has happened, they have backed out and left us holding the bag. It's not right, and it’s not fair."
Minnie spreads her hands. "I know, the prospect of the Morgan family buying a thousand or more dollars' worth of books has always been too tempting for us to pass up."
I draw myself up, glaring at the tall stack of boxes. "This is the last time," I declare. "This is the absolute last time this is going to happen to us. I'm going to do something about it."
"Like what?" Minnie says, giving me a skeptical look. "What are you going to do, go confront the Morgan family? It's better to just eat the cost ourselves."
"With what money?" I ask, my words coming off a little more venomous than I really meant them to be.
Aunt Minnie goes quiet, something painful passing through her expression. I give her a little smile. I tilt my head.
"What?" I ask.
She shrugs one shoulder, her hands nervously gripping the front of her dress. "We can talk about it after the holidays. I don't want to stress you out right now."
My pulse picks up, and I grow tense. I cross my arms and furrow my brow. "Well, now you have to tell me. What are you talking about?"
Minnie can't meet my gaze. She looks down at the floor, pawing it with her heavy shoe. "Well… I didn't want to loop you in on this or anything. But the store is in some debt."
I reach up, placing my hand around my own throat. "Since when?"
She struggles again. "A few months ago, Hope House needed money for roof repairs. So, I offered to pay for it. But then it turned into foundation problems and issues with zoning. Blah, blah, blah. They were having issues getting financing, so I loaned them some."
“How much?” I narrowed my eyes on her face. "Where did you get the money?"
"A friend of a friend. He provides loans for people in need."
"What does that even mean? Is he a bank?"
"No. He is more of a businessperson. He manages a ton of these small loans,” she says.
"Small loans? I do not understand. If he is not related to a bank, then that means that he is a private financier. And that means he can charge you a ton of interest. Is that what you don't want me to be mad about?"
Aunt Minnie drops her gaze to the floor again. "Well, I was planning on paying him back when I got the money from a busy Christmas season."
My breath catches. "How much money are we talking about?
And how did you even get it?" Minnie looks straight at me, her brown eyes worried.
"At first, it was just ten thousand. But that quickly became twenty, then forty, then…
" She trails off. "I lent the administrator at Hope House almost one hundred thousand dollars. "
For a brief moment, my mind is filled with static and crackling.
I blink and try to wrap my head around that figure.
"One hundred thousand dollars? Where did you even get that?
The last time that you tried to lend Hope House money, the bank wouldn't give you a second mortgage on your house.
So where did you go to get that kind of money? "
Aunt Minnie licks her lips and looks at me, holding a hand out to forestall my protest. "You can't be mad.
After all, it's for a good cause. If I didn't lend them the money they needed, the people at the shelter were looking at having to rebuild all the walls. On top of that, they needed a mold inspection and…”
“Aunt Minnie. Be serious. Did you get the money from a loan shark?”
Her expression pinches and she looks away. “Some people might call him that, yes.”
For several seconds, I can’t speak. “And what did you put up as collateral?”
Her mouth twists. “The bungalow. It’s the only thing they would accept.”
My pulse pounds. I swallow hard, anger rising like a tidal wave in my chest.
“So now you have to pay some crook back a hundred thousand dollars plus some crazy amount of interest or he takes our house? Is that the sum of things?”
Aunt Minnie winces. “I have to start paying him back in a couple of months. That’s plenty of time for me to figure it out.”
“Figure it out?!” My exclamation bursts from my lips. “Aunt Minnie, we don’t have that kind of money! In fact, we are already in the hole for those stupid books that the Morgans don’t want! How can you think that we are going to figure it out?”
Minnie licks her lips and runs a hand over her hair. “Someone will come through. You’ll see. Just have a little faith.”
My hands bunch into fists and I drop them to my sides, feeling another pulse of anger throb through me.
I want to yell. I want to call her names.
To demand to know why she has put us both in such an impossible situation.
But the way she is looking at me right now, her eyes pleading with me not to be angry, keeps me from unleashing my voice.
This is not the first time that I have been extremely let down in my life, nor will it be the last. Smoothing my hands down the front of my coat, I collect myself. I clear my throat, trying to school my expression.
“Okay. We should talk about this again sometime when I am less emotional.”
Minnie reaches out and grabs my forearm, her gaze searching my face. “You aren’t mad, are you Talia?”
I force myself to shake my head. “Nope. Not mad.”
The lie feels oily leaving my lips but Minnie brightens.
“Oh, that’s a relief. I thought you would be angry with me.”
I bow my head, my face contorting. “Nope.”
Minnie pats my cheek and gives me a quick hug. Then she scoops up a stack of books, hustling into the hallway, and disappears.
I look at the mess she’s left by the cash register, little scraps of paper, the glass markers strewn about, a tattered book of poems left open with a page ripped out and left disconnected.
Unable to control myself, I reach down and sweep everything off the desk, sending it all flying in every direction. It is a satisfying feeling for a whole of three seconds… until I see the mess has now expanded, taken over the floor where it has landed.
With a heavy sigh, I step around the desk and begin picking up the rubble.