Chapter 6 - The Man Who Thought Nobody Would Challenge Him
Sterling’s Bistro survived.
Mr. Sterling almost didn't remain its owner.
The settlement was expensive.
So were the penalties.
So were the lawyers.
But the strangest thing happened two weeks later.
Mom received a call from Vincent.
She put him on speaker.
“Mr. Kane?”
“Mara.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Lunch.”
Mom blinked.
“What?”
“I need to discuss something.”
“I already got paid.”
“I know.”
“The other employees?”
“Handled.”
Mom looked suspicious.
“Then what?”
Vincent paused.
“Bring Rory.”
I shouted from the couch.
“Hi, Mr. Kane!”
A pause.
Then:
“Apparently I'm already on speaker.”
We met him at a quiet restaurant near the river.
I ordered chicken fingers.
Vincent stared at my plate.
“You eat anything else?”
“French fries.”
“Excellent nutritional diversity.”
Mom tried not to laugh.
Then Vincent slid a folder across the table.
She didn't touch it.
“What is this?”
“A job offer.”
Mom stared at him.
“No.”
“You haven't opened it.”
“I don't work for criminals.”
Vincent's eyebrows rose.
I stopped chewing.
Mom's face turned red.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“No,” Vincent replied. “You probably should have.”
He pushed the folder slightly closer.
“You wouldn't work for me.”
“Then who?”
“A restaurant group in which I have a legitimate investment.”
Mom remained skeptical.
“They need an operations supervisor.”
“I’m a waitress.”
“You identified seventy-seven days of missing wages down to thirty cents while raising a child alone.”
Mom said nothing.
Vincent continued.
“You documented schedules, messages, hours, and discrepancies better than Sterling's own accounting department.”
“That doesn't make me a manager.”
“No. But the twelve employees who followed you into my private dining room might disagree.”
“They weren't following me.”
“They trusted you.”
Mom looked at the folder.
“Salary?”
Vincent named the number.
Mom nearly dropped her water.
“You're joking.”
“I rarely joke about payroll. Recent events have made me sensitive to the subject.”
I giggled.
Mom opened the folder.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“Why me?”
Vincent looked toward the Chicago River beyond the window.
“My mother cleaned offices when I was a kid.”
Mom's expression softened.
“She raised three boys.”
He looked back at her.
“There were nights she said she'd eaten at work.”
Mom went still.
Vincent tapped one finger against the table.
“I was older than Rory before I understood she was lying.”
That explained something.
Not everything.
But enough.
Mom closed the folder.
“I need to think.”
“You should.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you say no.”
“You won't be offended?”
“I'll survive.”
I raised my hand.
Vincent looked at me.
“Yes?”
“Does the new job have chicken fingers?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Rory.”
Vincent nodded solemnly.
“I'll make that a contractual requirement.”
I looked at Mom.
“You should take it.”
“You're four.”
“Four and a half.”
Vincent nodded.
“She's very particular about that.”
Mom finally laughed.
It was the first time in months I heard her laugh without worry hiding underneath it.
She took the job three days later.
But there was one thing she insisted on.
She would earn it.
No favors.
No special treatment.
Vincent agreed.
Six months later, Mom was promoted again.
And Sterling?
He eventually sold the restaurant.
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Apparently owning an expensive car didn't make someone good at running a business.
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