A Bargain With The Devil

I was hiding again in the pantry for the third time that day. If mum called me again to ask where I put the soy sauce, I would curl into a ball and disappear. Things were easier before, when dad was still in charge. The restaurant scene was his shmuck anyway, but then he got sick and now we were failing, woefully.

My watch flashed, signaling the end of my five-minute hiatus. That was how long I could stay in there without getting bothered. To prove my point, the door handle twisted above my head. When the door did not budge, a voice called out.

“Ehh... Mae, is that you? I need to get some flour, we’ve run out.”

I sighed, rose from the floor, and unlocked the door. Lisa’s round face came into view. She smiled kindly at me, before hurrying into the pantry. As I walked back to the kitchen, the sound of clanging pots and knives on chop boards grew louder. My mum was yelling at José in Italian again.

I was glad I only had to wait tables; a day in the kitchen with my mother would kill me.

With efficiency honed from working years in the restaurant, I set to work. My smile looked natural as I waltzed through the room taking orders, returning meals and clearing tables.

My job wasn’t a total bore. Gauging the customers through their outfits was the highlight of my day. I could tell which customer would be trouble from the way they dressed. I had learnt to be careful around women who wore their shades while in the restaurant. With men, it was harder to tell.

The door chimed open for the thousandth time and a man walked in looking grim. My eyes skimmed over him. Crisp suit, mouth pressed in a line and a I-mean-business expression. He would be one of the easy ones.

Something about him made me nervous, and I wondered if I had attended to him before. Instead of taking a seat at one of the empty tables, he made a beeline for me, the server closest to the entrance. Oh, he was one of those ones, the snotty people who thought they could come in and have everyone moving to their own beat.

“Good afternoon.” He started.

“Good day sir, if you would just be seated, someone will be with you shortly.” I responded, my smile still strong.

“I’m actually here on business. It’s about this property and I’d like to see the owner. It is very important that I meet with him today.” my curiosity was piqued.

“I’m his daughter, my mother is running this place for now since his health got worse, she’ll be happy to talk to you if it’s important.” He paused for a bit, and then nodded.

“That’ll be fine.”

I led him to dad’s small office ignoring the look Miles gave me when he saw us, and then I left to fetch my mum from the kitchen. She looked just as puzzled as I was when I told her about our guest. Discarding the apron, she followed me to the office. The strange man had already pulled out a file from his case, which now sat lonely on the desk.

Mum greeted him and sat in dad’s ginormous leather seat. It smelt of several spices and dad’s cologne.

“I am Samuel Mikhalov and I’m a representative of the late Mr. McCauley” He began. McCauley had been the proprietor of half the buildings in seaside Arroyo Grande. His recent death had worried everyone that was under his care. “As you know, McCauley has no Family here, but he has a half brother who currently resides in Scotland, being the only living relative of McCauley, his properties were automatically transferred to his name.” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Owen has no interest in keeping the property and has sold” -my heart dropped- “the property to a new owner based here.”

Mikhalov smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid the two men were not on good terms in their youth, this is his way to spite his brother for disappearing“.

My mum glanced at me and I saw the fear in her eyes, so I squeezed her shoulder warmly. We did not have to panic yet. Things could go either way, this new owner could be kinder and drop McCauley’s rates...or he could be worse.

“It’s just a new owner right, there won’t be some sort of hike in our rent, we can barely afford it with my husband being ill.“ mum voiced both our fears.

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that.” Mikhalov answered. “The new owner-Mr. Crowe, plans on renovating seaside Arroyo, Occupants in the properties formerly owned by McCauley need to be evacuated within three months. I felt it would be impolite to send just the letters, so I am here to deliver them myself.” He extended a brown file to my mother but she just sat, stunned.

I took it from him and reached inside, pulling out a letter. It said the exact thing the lawyer had said just with more words.

“That’s impossible! This is too short a notice, this can’t be applicable in court, and it’s illegal!”

“I am aware of McCauley’s love for this place and I would do everything in my power to stop this, but there was nothing in the contract you signed with McCauley that states that this is illegal. Mr. Crowe’s actions do not violate any contracts.”

“We’ve been here for thirty years.” My mother said in disbelief. “This is our home.”

He shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. I am sorry. Perhaps you could try talking to Mr. Crowe, he might reconsider...” but even as he said it, he did not seem confident.

Mum remained frozen. She just looked on at him opposite her, a few times, she’d break into a smile and then, her face would contort to show confusion. Mikhalov had broken my mother.

“Thank you for your...” life altering news? Soul destroying revelation. “I think it’s time you leave.” I managed to spit out. The urge to point comically at the door then yell “And stay out!” left my body the second, Miles walked in.

I had completely forgotten about my brother and his tendency to pokenose. He was holding a plate of food and no doubt had a great excuse for coming in here, but one look at my face, mum’s dead expression and the guilty one of the lawyer, it died in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me accusingly.

“I will leave your family to deal with this. Once again, I truly am sorry.” Mikhalov said before he shuffled out of his office with his head down, no doubt going to someone else’s job or home to break the bad news.

He walked out, leaving me to repeat the dreadful news to my brother, and no doubt to my father when we got home.