Chương 14
He stopped when he saw her.
“You’re buying Rosie’s building,” she said.
“No.”
“Your sister represents the buyer.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“I knew the company was considering it.”
“Who owns Lakefront Urban Holdings?”
“Several investors.”
“Are you one of them?”
“No.”
“Is your mother?”
Cade’s silence answered.
Nora laughed once. “Of course.”
“Elena invests in neighborhood properties.”
“Your company performed due diligence for your mother.”
“For the investment group.”
“Does she know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about the marriage papers?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would like to survive the week.”
The receptionist looked down quickly, hiding a smile.
Nora did not.
“Can your mother stop the sale?”
“She can influence the purchase terms.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“I didn’t offer it.”
“I need the truth.”
Cade stepped aside and gestured toward his office. “You can have that.”
She remained in the lobby.
“No closed door.”
He nodded.
They sat in a small conference area within view of the receptionist.
Cade explained that Lakefront intended to purchase the building, renovate the upper apartments, and decide whether to retain the diner after reviewing revenue. The business was losing money. Rosie’s books were disorganized. The restaurant group wanted the brand but would likely replace most staff.
“Can the diner survive?” Nora asked.
“Not in its current form.”
“What would have to change?”
“Hours. Menu costs. Delivery contracts. Staffing. The furnace. Half the plumbing.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t.”
“Could I keep my apartment?”
“Renovation may require temporary relocation.”
The guardian ad litem required stable housing.
Nora looked through the glass wall toward Cade’s office. On his desk sat the glass ashtray from Rosie’s.
“You stole that.”
“I paid Rosie for it.”
“Why?”
He glanced at it. “I stopped smoking.”
“That was fast.”
“I had been stopping for six years.”
Nora looked back at him. “I need housing through the final hearing.”
“I have an apartment.”
“No.”
“You asked for truth, not an offer.”
“Keep the offer.”
“It is vacant. Separate building. Market lease. Mr. Patel can review it.”
“No.”
Cade leaned back. “What are you asking me for?”
The question irritated her because she did not know.
“I’m asking you not to solve this before I understand it.”
“All right.”
“I’m asking whether your mother’s investment group would consider a proposal from employees to operate the diner.”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m here?”
“Because a staffed operating business is worth more than an empty room.”
“Would they consider it from anyone?”
“If the numbers worked.”
“Can I see the numbers?”
“No.”
Nora stood.
Cade added, “Not without Rosie’s permission and a confidentiality agreement.”
She sat again.
He slid a blank legal pad toward her.
Nora did not touch it.
“What would a proposal need?” she asked.
“Projected labor costs, food costs, hours, revenue, management plan, capital needs, and proof you can operate during renovation.”
“I have nine days before court.”
“The court does not require you to own a diner.”
“It requires stable income and housing.”
“Yes.”
“I may lose both.”
“Yes.”
She glared at him.
He lifted one hand. “You told me to stop pretending hard facts become kinder when I phrase them differently.”
“I hate that you listen selectively.”
“So do I.”
The receptionist laughed outright this time.
Nora spent the next four nights learning Rosie’s books.
They were worse than Cade had suggested.
Receipts lived in cookie tins. Vendor invoices had coffee rings. One month’s payroll records were held together by a rubber band that disintegrated when Nora touched it.
Rosie resisted every question.
“I pay the bills.”
“Not consistently.”
“Eventually is a kind of consistency.”
“How much does the meat supplier charge per pound?”
“Too much.”
“How much?”
Rosie searched three drawers and found a Christmas card from 2019.
Maya helped after school. She built a spreadsheet on her laptop and color-coded expenses.
“You made utilities red,” Nora said.
“They’re bad.”
“And napkins green?”
“They’re emotionally safe.”
“That is not accounting.”
“It’s visual organization.”
Rosie pointed at the screen. “I like the child’s system.”
Maya looked pleased.
For the first time since the emergency hearing, she forgot to check the front door.
Cade did not come to the diner, but Elena Moreno did.
She arrived on a Tuesday afternoon wearing a red raincoat and using a cane she treated as an inconvenience. She was sixty-three, compact, with Cade’s dark eyes and none of his restraint.
“You’re Nora,” she said.
Nora set down the coffee pot. “You’re his mother.”
“I apologize.”
“For which part?”
Elena smiled. “You’ll do.”
“I’m not applying.”
“Good. Applications are tedious.”
She chose Cade’s old booth.
Nora remained standing. “Did he tell you?”
“Sofia did. Then Cade told me a version with fewer adjectives.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”
“I expect coffee. I came to discuss the building.”
Nora poured it.
Elena took one sip and grimaced. “This is terrible.”
“You invested in it.”
“I invested in the land.”
“That explains why everyone hates landlords.”
“I’m not your landlord yet.”
“Then the hatred is provisional.”
Elena laughed.
It sounded nothing like Cade.
She reviewed Nora’s proposal with a pencil, crossing out optimistic revenue assumptions and circling labor costs.
“You underpay yourself,” Elena said.
“I used my current wages.”
“Management is work.”
“I know.”
“Then price it.”
“If I price it, the proposal loses money.”
“Then the business loses money.”
“We can increase breakfast traffic.”
“How?”
Nora explained a plan involving earlier weekday opening, hospital delivery orders, and a reduced late-night menu. Elena interrupted often.
Maya defended the spreadsheet’s color choices.
Rosie denied that pie sales had fallen even while the numbers proved they had.
At one point, Cade entered, saw his mother, and stopped in the doorway.
Elena did not turn around. “Go away.”
“I work nearby.”
“So does Nora. She was invited.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Exactly.”
Cade looked at Nora.
She expected him to leave.
He did.
May you like
The quiet obedience unsettled her more than an argument.
Elena watched him through the window. “He has been difficult since birth.”
