“Can I think about it?” I asked after a minute.
“Sure. Take your time.”
“Thanks, Mason.” Ending the call, I took a deep breath, trying to get my head together.
If only Kade were here. I’d have given anything for him to put his arms around me and tell me it was going to be okay, that whatever decision I made I’d be able to live with.
My heart was beating too fast, and there was part of me—a very large part—that wanted to sign the contract anyway.
If Mason’s call had come two minutes later, I would’ve already signed it, and the sale would have been done.
There was a voice recorder app on my phone, and I tapped to open it. To start recording, all I needed to do was tap the screen one more time. My finger hovered over it for several long seconds while I tried to will myself to do it. But it was still hovering when the screen went dark. Instead of recording, I shoved the phone into my jacket pocket, walked back into the café and sat at a table with the agreement in front of me.
“Everything okay, Natalie?” Emmy asked. “You look a little pale.”
“Give her the pen.” Butch sounded impatient. “We’ve waited long enough.”
I took the pen from Emmy. Holding it over the line that was waiting for my signature, my mind was racing. This wasn’t right. The Snyders shouldn’t get to profit from their bad deeds. But if I sold them the café, I’d get to pay back some of the loan. If I didn’t, would I be throwing away my future?
“What are you waiting for?” Gigi’s voice was shrill. “Have you forgotten how to sign your name?”
With a sigh, I put the pen down. Slipping my hand into my jacket pocket, I fumbled my phone on and tapped the screen to start the recording app.
“I can’t sign,” I said. “Not when your son was the one who vandalized the café.”
Emmy pulled in a sharp, audible breath.
“What are you talking about?” Battering her eyelashes, Gigi clasped her hand to her chest. Her reaction was overdone and clearly fake.
Butch’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not taking our offer?”
In answer, I picked up the contract and ripped it slowly in half.
“This is your fault.” Gigi pointed at me accusingly. “You shouldn’t have fired Lee. He’s a talented chef.”
I snorted. “Talented? His only talent was being annoying.”
“You held him back!”
“Oh? How did I do that?” I stood up to meet her glare. My adrenaline was high and my heart pounding hard.
Gigi put her fists on her hips, her earrings swinging angrily. “We were buying your sad little café so our boy could prove himself. He would have put it on the map and made it a huge success.”
Butch glanced sideways at his wife. “Don’t say any more, Gigi. Let’s go.” He wrapped his meaty hand around her arm, but she shook it off, still glaring at me.
“My son’s a star, and it’s narrow-minded people like you who won’t let him shine. All he needs is an opportunity, and that’s what we were going to give him.”
“Well, that’s sweet of you.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Except for the parts where you lied, committed crimes, and tried to cheat me.”
“If you’d appreciated Lee’s talent, we wouldn’t have needed to!”
“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. Butch was a big man and his face had gone a furious shade of red.
“Are you threatening us?” he snarled.
Emmy moved to stand next to me. “Leave now, both of you!” Her crisp, hard voice rang out with such authority, I had to stop myself from obeying. “If we see you again, we’ll call the police.”
“And say what?” Butch loomed over us. “You have no proof we did anything. It’s your word against ours.”
“This is private property and Natalie wants you to leave.” Emmy’s phone was in her hand. “I’m calling the police now. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Don’t bother, we’re going.” Gigi let out a loud huff, tossing her hair and marching out as though they were the ones who’d been wronged.
Butch glowered at us a moment longer, then followed. He slammed the café's front door hard enough the windows rattled.
I let out a long breath, sagging with relief. Taking out my own phone, I sent the recording of our conversation to Mason. It still may not be enough to charge them with a crime, but I knew he’d do everything he could.
“Thanks, Emmy,” I said.
“I’m so sorry.” She grabbed my hand, her expression stricken. “I never liked them, but I had no idea they’d damage your café.”
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”
She sank onto one of the chairs and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “You feel like a drink? Because I’d kill for a Syl-tini. Look, I’m trembling.”
“I’d really like one, Emmy, but I’m going to have to take a rain check. As awful as that was, the really hard part of my day is still to come.”
Walking into Dad’s aged care home an hour later, I was more than a little afraid of what I might interrupt. An x-rated game of charades? A dentures-out, gums-only version of spin the bottle?
So I was glad when I found Dad alone in his small apartment, watching one of Kade’s older shows.
“Hey,” I said. “Are they playing reruns?”
He grunted, hitting the mute button but not taking his eyes off the screen. “I have it recorded. See the way Kade’s making that cream sauce? Mine’s better. A splash of sweet, dry wine, that’s the secret.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “And see how he’s taking it off the heat a little too late? Remind me to show him how it should be done.”
I wasn’t sure how he was going to show Kade anything, seeing as his kitchen was barely more than a counter that held a microwave and coffee machine. But I just took a seat in his
