It Burns a Lovely Light (27 page)

She was two steps in before she froze.

After a futile attempt to cover her most private areas with
her bra, Veda Marie sighed and put her hands on her hips.

"I...I," stammered Claire. "I thought you were grocery shopping."

"We shopped fast," said Veda Marie.

An equally naked Mr. Winston removed the cigar from his mouth "What was it that you were looking for, my dear?"

"Uh..." It took her a minute. "The red blanket. For William."

"It's right over there." Mr. Winston gestured to the blanket, folded over the back of his armchair. "Please secure the door on your way out."

At a corner of Liberty and Seventh a Salvation Army, Santa rang his bell. Harried people pushed by, clutching their coats. Claire put her turn signal on as she stopped for the light, her conversation with Mr. Johnson
running through her head.

"I'm afraid your loan cannot be renegotiated, Mrs. Sullivan. We'll need your payment in full by Friday. Otherwise, the deed to Bridge Manor is transferred to us."

The blood had rushed from Claire's face. "No...that's
not in the contract."

"Of course it is." He shuffled through the bulky contract. "Here we are: page one hundred and sixty seven, paragraph four.
'Failure to make payment will result in immediate transfer of deed of property: 1107 Overlook Trail.'"

Claire gripped her purse.

"There must be some mistake," she said. "I can assure you I would never agree to something like that."

Mr. Johnson tapped the bottom of the page. "Those are your initials, are they not?"

Putting on her reading glasses, she leaned over the contract. "Yes, but..."

"Mrs. Sullivan, you signed a legal and binding contract." He closed the contract and folded his hands. "As I said, if you can't make your payment by Friday, the deed to Bridge Manor belongs to
The Pilgrim Group. I am sorry."

Claire tilted the car's rearview mirror and examined her face. There were new lines around her eyes and above her lip. Her bloodshot eyes looked bruised. The tears came faster now, running down her cheeks and
into the folds of her neck. Pauline was right; the rearview mirror really was the only honest mirror.

"You should get a load of me now, Pauline," she breathed, pulling a crumpled napkin out of her purse. God, she was exhausted.

Three tiny brass bells rang as she opened the door to The Novel Hovel. Mr. Franco, clinging to the top rung of a ladder, strained to reach a book. Below him, a woman in jeans and a puffy green parka glanced at
her watch.

Claire's feet felt like cement as she climbed the stairs to the second floor and wandered through the dark aisles. The scent of old books and lemon pine wood polish brought back long-forgotten memories...Father
reaching down to pick her up, spinning her around and around.
We found it, our treasure! Have you ever been so happy in your life?

She lowered herself to her knees, then lower; down to the dark wood floor. Lie down. Just lie down.

Five hundred and fifty thousand dollars just for lying down...right is right...wrong is wrong... breathing under water was easy...she found him near the bottom...wrapped herself around him... kissing...tender and
soft...Oh, Paddy...he stroked her face...kissed her...my darling girl...right is right...all right...all right...

"Are you all right, Mrs. Sullivan?"

"Wuhh." Claire jerked awake, her eyes slow to
focus. She was shivering. Her face, wet by a thin layer of drool, was pressed against the wooden floor.

"Try not to move, dear," said Mr. Franco. He was kneeling beside her, holding her hand. "You've taken a fall."

"Here, hon." The woman in the puffy green parka unzipped her coat and draped it over Claire. "This will warm you up."

Mr. Franco's twisted arthritic fingers struggled with the
buttons of his cardigan. He placed his balled-up sweater under Claire's head, and leaned back, his voice weak.

"This is my fault," he said. "I must have put too much polish on the floors last night." He gestured toward the parka
woman. "This nice young lady will stay with you while I call an ambulance."

Holding onto the bookcase, he tried to pull himself up.

"Goodness," he said, embarrassed. "I seem to
be stuck."

Green parka woman helped the old man to his feet.

Overcome with shame, Claire covered her eyes with her hand. "It's not your fault, Mr. Franco. They'll be no need for an
ambulance."

Ryan pulled the car up to the curb. Farley jumped out and ran into the old bookstore. Mr. Franco met her at the door and chatted nervously as he led her through the cramped store.

"I'm sorry about your brother, Miss James. I've been following young William in the papers." He opened the door to his office. "And of course, Mrs. Sullivan's brother comes in to the store now and then. He fills me in."

Farley knelt beside her aunt. "Claire, are you all right?"

Claire stared straight ahead.

"I've lost our home," she whispered. "I've lost Bridge Manor."

"Sorry it's so tight in here," said Ham, as the residents of Bridge Manor crowded in.

Claire looked around the room. His new office was about the size of her pantry. The wall behind his desk was floor-to-ceiling books,
cardboard boxes and framed photographs and degrees. "I love it."

"What an amazing view," said Farley.

Mr. Winston draped an arm around her shoulders and pointed
toward the Lower Hill. "There's my old stomping grounds. Leonard and I used to hang on the corner of Wylie and Fifth with our buddies, trying to out-cool each other." He chuckled. "The Wylie Hooligans; we were
something else."

Ham pulled Claire aside as the group began to sit around the small conference table.

"In light of the others in attendance, I need to ask if there anything you would prefer we address in private."

"This concerns all of us. Feel free to say whatever you like." She stared directly into his eyes. "In regards to
this
issue."

"I understand."

"What we're looking at is home equity fraud, plain and simple," said Ham, folding his hands on the table. "Claire was offered a payment plan to make repairs on Bridge Manor. The interest rate was
high, and it grew higher over time. But it wasn't the interest they were after. Their goal was to take full possession of Bridge Manor."

"Sounds like a second mortgage to me," said Mr. Winston.

"Home equity rip-offs have gone big time,"
continued Ham. "They are organized and demographically targeted. In some cases they are even nationally franchised."

"If they're such a big organization, why waste their
time going after me?" asked Claire.

"On the contrary, you represent their ideal target. Your home is paid for. It's in your name." He hesitated. "And, you're a single, older woman."

"How dare you," said Veda Marie.

Claire patted her arm. "Go on, Ham."

He took a sip of water. "When you could no longer keep up with the interest on your payment plan, someone tipped you off about a
lenient lender."

"That lovely woman couldn't possibly be a crook," said Claire.

"That 'lovely woman' referred you to The Pilgrim Group," said Ham. "They presented themselves as respectable lenders,
mired you in legal jargon and buried you in paperwork." He held up a copy of the thick contract. "Deep inside the fine print is a one-sentence kicker: Bridge Manor was the collateral on the loan. These people - with their
fancy suits, pretty secretaries, and elegant conference rooms - are loan sharks, pure and simple."

Claire blushed, recalling how impressed she had been with the breakfast spread and the fresh squeezed orange juice.

"Then why can't we have them arrested?" said Farley.

"Standing alone, each company
appears
to be a legitimate entity." He picked up the contract. "Generally speaking,
this is a binding contract; signed, witnessed, and submitted through the proper legal channels." He turned to Claire. "Witnesses can and will state that you said you understood what you were signing."

Farley saw Claire's hand tremble as she removed her reading
glasses.

"Ham," she said, "there must be something we can do."

"We need to find a connection between Lowe & Son Restoration and The Pilgrim Group. If we can show proof of kickbacks or a
conspiracy of any kind between the two companies, their involvement becomes illegal. Unfortunately, the odds are not in our favor for finding anything before that deed transfers. If you lose that deed, you lose the only remaining
advantage you have: possession of Bridge Manor."

Suddenly the disappointment that everyone had so gallantly kept at bay saturated the room. Each one of them had secretly hoped that Ham Kane, like one of William's superheroes, would swoop in and save the day.

Farley shook her head.

"Losing Bridge Manor is not an option," she said. "When William comes home, he'll need everything exactly the way it
was."

Clare and Veda Marie exchanged a worried glance. There had been no improvement in William's condition in weeks.

Ham nodded. "Then you've got to pay off the loan before the deed transfers. I'd say you have a week, at best."

Farley pushed back her chair. "We'd better get going."

"I'll be at the hospital," said Joe.

"Give our boy a kiss." Veda Marie shivered in her
parka. "And tell Dion - I swear this is true because he told me with his own lips - a man by the name of
Horsehead
called looking for her."

Joe raised his hand and started down the sidewalk.

"My son is ashamed of me," said Claire, watching him go. "He barely said a word all morning."

Farley had also noticed Joe's somber mood, and she had an
unsettling feeling it had something to do with her.

"Joe, wait!" She ran the half block and stood in front of him. "What's going on?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Come on, Joe. If you're mad at me, the least you can
do is tell me why."

"Fine." He looked at the car, where Claire and the rest of the group waited. "How do you think she got into this mess?"

"Claire?" Farley shook her head. "The bills got ahead of her. All those repairs..."

"She would have been able to pay for those. She was fine, until..." He stopped.

Farley frowned. "Until what?"

"Do you even know how much one year of William's school costs? His private teachers or your photography? How about that fancy new security system we're being wired for?"

"I earn my own money," said Farley, stung. "And my social security checks usually cover my film and developing. Claire pays the big expenses like the security system or anything school-related with our trust fund."

"You trust fund. You're sure about that."

A feeling of dread was beginning to come over her. She shifted her feet; her hands instinctively planting themselves on her hips. "Cut the shit, Joe. What are you trying to say?"

"There is no fund; trust, college, or otherwise. The small social security check you get every month is it.
There is no other money."

Farley took a step back. "That's a lie. Why would you
say something like that?"

"My mother paid for everything. Now she's so broke she's visiting loan sharks and attempting insurance fraud."

"Joseph Francis Sullivan!" shouted Claire, rushing
up the sidewalk.

One look at her aunt's distraught face and Farley knew it was true. She pushed past Joe and ran.

"Shame on you, Joe." Claire's voice shook.

"Mum, we're losing our home."

"What did you do, go through my private papers? Ham would never betray my trust, and no one else knew."

"Ryan knew. You must have told him."

"I didn't
tell
Ryan anything. I
confessed
it."

Farley curled up in the window seat of her bedroom to read
the Air Force documents.

She lowered the papers. "What kind of a dispute was it?"

"An officer at the party made a pass at your mother," said Claire. "Your father shattered his nose across his
face."

"So all these years, you've been forking over money you didn't have." Farley shook her head. "I've been taking
your
money and stashing it away for some crazy dream."

Claire's hands slid up to her hips. "You also saved every penny of your own hard-earned money. And I wouldn't call having a plan to take care of your brother some crazy dream."

Farley gave Claire a sad smile. "William never wanted
to leave Bridge Manor. That was all me. What
I
wanted." She put her head in her hands. "Meanwhile, you were getting in deeper and deeper. I'm so sorry."

"For what? You thought the money was yours. I knew I
had to tell you someday, but I kept putting it off. I was counting on winning those appeals. And," she hesitated, "I couldn't bring myself to tell you that your security was gone because of something your father did. He was
your hero."

"He made a mistake," said Farley. "That would never change the way I feel about him."

"It changed the way you felt about your mother."

"Pauline didn't make a mistake; she made a
choice
."

Claire took a seat next to her niece. "She sure did. And I hated her for it, for much longer than I'd like to admit."

"You did?"

"She should have at least tried to get out of that car. Instead of leaving you and William all alone."

"Fortunately for us, we weren't alone. We had you."

Claire procured blankets from the hall closet. Bundled up, they faced each other in the window seat.

Farley tucked her chin on her knees. "I used to be so jealous of the bond the two of you had. You and your magical twin
instincts."