Acts of Desperation(14)

“You’re not screwing up. You’re doing the best you can. You’re strong, even though you don’t feel like it, you are. You need to stop beating yourself up,” I said.

“I’ll try, but it’s hard when you feel like you’ve failed your children. I couldn’t even hold my family together.” Her voice broke as she spoke then Sam smacked the window.

His muffled cries came through the glass. “Mamma! I’m cold and hungry.”

“Shoot,” she said rubbing her face. “They haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I still need to get them into baths. I should go.” She frowned.

“Ok.” I rubbed her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. Remember that,” I said, feeling a lump rising in my throat. It was so hard seeing Sarah like that.

“Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that. Maybe one day I’ll believe it. I just don’t know how I couldn’t have seen this coming. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You reacted to what you saw,” I said.

“MAMMA!” Sam said, smacking the glass again.

“O-K!” Sarah yelled back then Sam frowned. “Great. Screwing up again,” she said, throwing her hands up.

I dug through my purse. “I have a granola bar in here somewhere, chocolate chip peanut butter. Here, they’ll think it’s a treat,” I said, handing it over.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I stood in the cold and watched them drive away. The boys waved good-bye through the back window as she pulled out into the street. Moments later, Anders’s car pulled out after them.





Chapter Seven


A couple days had passed since the night of Will’s soccer practice, and I couldn’t get Sarah and the kids off my mind. I wished I could do more but resigned that giving my support and a shoulder to cry on were probably the best things I could offer. In the meantime, I’d been getting a series of texts from John. He started off asking to meet for dinner, and then it went to lunch, and then to coffee. Finally, when he caught on that I wasn’t going to respond, he threatened to send me a bill from the locksmith, and I can’t lie, it made me smile.

As it was, I was at work, sitting across from an older couple in my office discussing their bankruptcy case. They owned and operated their own family Italian restaurant but had fallen into tough times when the economy took its downturn.

“So Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy, let’s get started.” I said as they took their seats. Mr. Bellamy grabbed his chair and scooted it to be closer to his wife’s. As soon as he sat down, he reached for her hand and mindlessly stroked her modest antique diamond ring as she placed her vintage Gucci bag on the floor next to her. When she sat up straight, she patted the Mother of Mary medallion that clung to her chest, and I imagined her saying a quick, silent prayer. I was instantly taken with both of them.

They looked like the model hard-working Italian couple from their bulging veins and calloused fingers to their outfits. Mr. Bellamy wore crisp, tan slacks and a heavily starched, white, short-sleeved oxford. Mrs. Bellamy timeless black pant suit and simple wedges were both classic and elegant. His bushy, thick salt and pepper hair was off-set by his wife’s freshly dyed, black hair which was pulled back in a very neat bun. They’d obviously worked hard over the years, and it was likely killing them both just to be sitting across from me staring bankruptcy in the face.

Mrs. Bellamy spoke first in a thick Italian accent and with an eternal feistiness that had probably carried her to the point she’d reached in life. “Bernie, Mr. Alexander, said you would help us. We’ve hit a rough patch. We’re hoping there’s something you can do to save our business. We wanted our boy, Gino, to take over when we retired, but there may not be much left at the rate we’re going.”

“Then let’s have a look at your business records and see what we can do. There are a few options we can look at after I read through all your records. We’ll see what situation might work best for the both of you. I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I said.

We talked over specifics, and I told them that I’d get to work on their case. After shaking hands, I walked them to the elevator. Back in my office, I sat organizing their information and jotted down some notes then I heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I said. When I glanced up, I saw Jax at my door. “Oh hey! What’s up?” He wore a charcoal gray suit and a tie that was an exact match and a tailored pale green shirt, that I couldn’t help but notice brought out the color of his eyes.

He smirked a little before he spoke. “I wanted to check up on how things went with the Bellamy’s. Bernie’s been going to their restaurant for years and has a soft spot for them,” he said.

I was hoping for something more interesting to come out of his mouth, like an invitation to lunch maybe, but talking about work would at least lend the opportunity for me to wow him with my mind. “In a nutshell, it looks like they over-extended themselves recently. Their business has fallen off, and they’re barely making ends meet. I paused and read a little more. “They’re in a difficult situation. I don’t know that there’s much we can do at this point, but I’ll look into every option. Creditors are going to start beating down their doors any minute,” I said, looking up at him.