Chương 7
Camille caught on one phrase. “No allegation against me.”
Anika’s expression remained neutral. “There are concerns about missed warning signs and caregiver selection. Concern is not the same as an allegation that you harmed her.”
“I should have known.”
“That sentence may be true in some ways and false in others. It is not useful if it prevents you from doing what she needs now.”
Camille almost resented her for sounding like Evelyn.
Outside, Lily held a packet of crackers and had somehow persuaded Evelyn to buy two kinds of gum despite being forbidden to chew it in the car.
“Pancakes,” Lily reminded them.
They ate at a diner three blocks away. Lily ordered blueberry pancakes, removed every visible blueberry, and ate the syrup-soaked edges. Evelyn drank coffee and reviewed messages on her phone.
Halfway through the meal, Lily said, “Aunt Bea said the restaurant belongs to her.”
Camille set down her fork.
Evelyn looked up but did not speak.
“What did you say?” Camille asked.
“I said it has your name.”
Arden was written in brass above the entrance, but the building belonged to Vale Properties. The distinction between a name and ownership had taken Camille years and several hundred pages of contracts to understand.
“What did she say then?” Camille asked.
“She said names can come off.”
Evelyn’s eyes hardened.
Lily cut a blueberry in half. “Can they?”
“Yes,” Camille said.
Lily’s face changed.
“But people can work somewhere else. A restaurant is more than a sign.”
“You said this one was your dream.”
“It was. It is.”
“Can dreams move?”
Evelyn looked down at her coffee.
Camille reached across the table, stopping before she touched Lily’s hand. “Sometimes.”
Lily nodded as if filing away a rule she might need later.
The first formal letter from Vale Properties arrived the following morning. It did not mention Lily. It informed Camille that the company would conduct a review of compliance with the restaurant’s lease and loan covenants after “recent operational concerns.” It requested updated financial statements, vendor liabilities, payroll obligations, and information regarding the delayed second-location opening.
Evelyn read it in Camille’s office while Paul stood by the window.
“They’re applying pressure,” Paul said.
“They’re allowed to request most of this,” Evelyn replied. “The timing is the pressure.”
Camille sat behind the desk Beatrice had given her on opening day. A silver plaque inside the top drawer read: For the empire you were stubborn enough to build.
She had once found it affectionate.
“What happens if they declare a default?” Paul asked.
“We contest it. Depending on the clause, they may have remedies against the collateral or lease. But we’re not there.”
“How far are we?”
Evelyn looked at Camille.
“Answer him,” Camille said.
“The expansion put cash reserves below the level we wanted. The original restaurant is profitable. The new location is not open, so it is consuming money without producing revenue. A prolonged dispute would be painful.”
Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “How painful?”
“We may need to pause the expansion, bring in outside capital, sell assets, or negotiate new financing.”
“Can we refinance the Vale loan?”
“Possibly, though not quickly or cheaply.”
Camille opened the desk drawer and removed the plaque. The adhesive released with a faint tearing sound.
Paul watched her set it facedown.
“I need you to prepare the staff,” she said.
“For what?”
“For uncertainty.”
He leaned against the window frame. “There are forty-eight people on payroll.”
“I know every one of them.”
“Then don’t tell them uncertainty until we know what it means. Half the kitchen will start applying elsewhere by dinner.”
Camille looked at him. Paul had worked for her nine years. He rarely challenged her in front of counsel.
“What do you suggest?”
“Tell the department heads there’s a financing review. Tell everyone else nothing unless their jobs are actually at risk.”
“That sounds like hiding.”
“It sounds like not making frightened people carry information you can’t explain.”
Evelyn tapped her pen once. “He’s right.”
Camille resented them both, which was better than pretending she had the answer.
“All right,” she said. “Department heads at three.”
Paul nodded but did not leave. “And Daniel?”
“What about him?”
“He thinks he should have stepped in sooner.”
“He called security.”
“After.”
Camille looked at the closed office door. “Is he asking for something?”
“No. He’s avoiding the Vale Room.”
“Keep it closed.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Paul absorbed the answer. “That’s going to cost us.”
“I know.”
The words had become an inventory of consequences.
Mara came to the apartment that evening with no gift, no flowers, and no claim on Lily’s attention. She sat at the kitchen table while Lily colored in the next room.
“I gave Anika the photograph,” Mara said. “And a written statement.”
Camille waited.
Mara twisted a paper napkin between her fingers. “Beatrice asked me in June whether I knew a family lawyer who handled guardianship.”
Camille’s body went cold.
“What did you say?”
“I gave her a name.”
“Why?”
“She said a friend had a niece whose mother was unstable.”
“And you believed her.”
“I didn’t ask enough.”
“Did she use the lawyer?”
“I don’t know. The woman I recommended won’t tell me.”
Camille stood and walked to the sink. A plate sat there from breakfast, a streak of dried egg yolk at the edge. She turned on the faucet, then turned it off without washing anything.
“What else?”
Mara placed both palms on the table. “She talked about your schedule constantly. She asked whether I thought a restaurant owner could be a proper parent. She asked if I had noticed Lily looking tired.”
“Did you?”
“Once. At a brunch. Lily had been sick the night before.”
“So Beatrice was collecting witnesses.”
“Maybe. Or trying to.”
Camille turned. “You sat across from her last night while she touched my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You gave her a lawyer.”
“I know.”
May you like
“You saw Lily hiding her hands.”
Mara’s eyes filled, but she did not look away. “I know.”
