Page 48 of Intoxicating Pursuit

The Confrontation

A t Gabe’s insistence, Meghan and I flew home in his Gulfstream, enjoying a few more hours of luxurious tranquility before the rhythms of our life set us spinning again.

Meghan read books most of the way, and I stared off into space, thinking about Marco and Ian, wishing I had caught the signs in time, before things got out of hand.

I wondered what the tipping point was, when people stopped using drugs for fun, and the drugs started destroying their lives, convincing them that ruining relationships and a lifetime of work was a reasonable price for another high.

We got in late, returned to our cozy home, and slept like the dead.

***

T he next day, we were low on groceries, but I scrounged enough food from the pantry to make a ‘thank you’ brunch for Oscar. I whipped up a batch of apple pecan pancakes, cooked some bacon, and warmed up the good maple syrup before gathering everyone to dig in.

Oscar popped a bite of bacon in his mouth. “So, who’s gonna keep an eye on things, now?”

“Oh. Nobody, Oscar.” I drenched my pancakes with enough syrup to get through what I knew would be a stressful morning. "I think we're good now."

He quit chewing mid-bite. “You’re pulling security entirely?”

“Yup. Did Gabe not fill you in? We have new information, and it looks like the threat isn’t valid after all. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you keeping an eye on Mom the last several days, though. You’re sort of my hero.”

“He really has been amazing,” Mom said. “Did I tell you he spent his nights sleeping outside my door, on that decrepit chaise no less? And he followed me all over town. I know I complained, but I was just being stubborn.” She shrugged.

“The truth is you made me feel safe, Oscar, and I’ll never forget seeing your hulking frame on that flimsy chair every morning.

I mean, that’s some serious dedication.” She pointed at me.

“Sammy, you tell Gabriel to give him a raise. He deserves it.”

Oscar washed his bacon down with coffee. “Um, thanks, Kate.” His eyes seemed to crawl over the kitchen uncomfortably, wandering from the old, warped windows to the back door with its measly chain lock. “Cameras should stay up,” he declared.

I set my fork down. “Oscar, we’ve lived here for years. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

He stole glances around the table at Meghan, Mom, and me. “You shouldn’t leave it to chance. I’ll transfer the account to you. You’ll get notifications if anything’s wrong.” Oscar’s eyes returned to his pancakes, and he shoveled an oversized bite in his mouth.

Configuring an app to notify me whenever a squirrel crossed the yard was the last thing I wanted to do today.

My mind was a million miles away, and my to-do list was hefty.

But maybe I owed Oscar at least enough consideration to heed his advice.

“Well, I guess if you have time to set me up before you go, it can’t hurt.

” It would only take a few minutes to indulge him.

We continued our feast. Mom chattered about the tennis tournament and her friend’s birthday party and how there was absolutely nothing interesting that had happened otherwise. She pinched my cheek. “See? We did just fine.”

“Easy for things to be fine when a couple hundred pounds of muscle is sleeping outside your door,” I said.

It turned out Oscar was capable of smiling, but the expression was fleeting. His usual grimace returned almost instantly. His brows knit tight.

After breakfast, he made me walk the perimeter of the yard with him to learn about the cameras. He got the apps downloaded to my phone and showed me how to log in and monitor everything. I thanked him again, impressed with his diligence.

“Don’t you guys want this on your devices, too?” He called out to Meghan and Mom, who were washing dishes in the kitchen with music blasting away.

“We’re fine, Oscar,” Mom hollered over the music. “Quit making Sammy worry. She does enough of that.”

“Ignore her,” I told him. “You’re awesome.”

His Uber pulled up, and I walked him to the door.

“Bye, Sammy.” He jostled the overstuffed backpack on his hulking shoulders, almost reluctantly. “See you around, I guess.”

Halfway to the idling car, Oscar paused and glanced back at the house, almost indecisively. Whatever was hanging him up, though, he worked through it quickly. He tossed his backpack into the vehicle, squeezed his bulk into the car’s back seat, and left for parts unknown.

With our visitor finally gone, I heaved a sigh of exhaustion and collapsed on the couch, truly grateful everyone was okay.

Our safety was beyond precious, but everything was so bittersweet.

Because underneath the homecoming and the pancakes, and the joy of seeing Mom again, something far darker lurked.

I was consumed with worry about the meeting I needed to have with Debbie and dumbstruck that the agreement we’d revive would effectively end an entire chapter of our lives.

Marco would be shut out from the remarkable business we built together, and I would be left to carry its burden on my own.

The music in the kitchen died. Mom went out the back door to her cottage, and Meghan took the stairs back to her room two at a time—everyone getting on with their lives.

Just for a moment, I took in the peace and quiet before trudging up the stairs for a quick shower.

I knew I had to go meet Debbie and draw up those horrible documents, but it felt like I was prepping for a funeral.

***

“ M om?” Meghan called from her bedroom when I reached the top of the steps.

She got up from her bed and came to the door.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Grandma, but you seem really sad, which is weird because we just got back from four days of, like, magical mystery land.

Aren’t you floating on a cloud? I mean. .

. I am.” She looked confused and concerned.

“Meghan, I’m so glad you had a great time.” I managed to smile for her. “And I promise you, I did, too. I mean, really amazing. You’re sweet to ask about me, but I promise I'm fine. I’m floating.”

She stared me down, looking unconvinced. “So, you’re just not going to tell me?” Meghan was no fool, and I’m sure my worries had been written all over my face since yesterday. “Is it the blackmail thing, Mom? I thought you said we were safe now. I kind of deserve to know if I’m in danger.”

“It’s not that. We’re safe. But the truth is, even though I had a great time, there are other things going on.

” I leaned against my doorway. “Sometimes being a business owner is fun, but other times, it’s just a lot of stress and pain.

I’ll get through it. I promise. It's nothing you need to worry about.” I crossed the hall and planted a kiss on her freckled forehead.

“Now go rest up and get unpacked. You’ve got a scrimmage tonight, and you need to kick butt so the coach doesn’t freak out next time you miss a practice or two. ”

That got a grin back out of her. “Kicking butt’s my specialty, Mom. I’ve got this.”

Then she actually gave me a hug.

A real hug.

***

N inety minutes later, I was showered and seated in Debbie’s office, a storefront on Germantown Avenue that she managed to keep both professional and comfortable.

Since it was Saturday and I was more of a friend than a client, she wore a simple t-shirt and shorts.

She had probably stopped in on her way to go hiking.

“Thanks for meeting me on the weekend.”

“No problem, Sammy. I don’t think this will take long. I did dust off that paperwork. I can have it ready this week. . . if you really want to pursue this.”

“I’m trying to figure that out, but I think Marco has gone off the deep end. I think he’s using again.” I was quiet for a moment. “Actually, maybe you can help with part of the puzzle. Did you learn anything about HopNBrew?”

“Yes, hold on.” She clicked a few files open on her laptop, read back through her notes patiently, and started nodding.

“Okay, so there’s actually a lot that’s odd about HopNBrew.

Someone registered the company within the last six months, and it’s an anonymous LLC—which is not normal.

They can only be set up in a couple states.

So, it was likely an intentional move. Since the company is so new, there are no tax returns to look at yet, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s a corporation without many assets.

The website looks like a two-sided platform—a market where vendors can put goods up for sale and buyers can make purchases.

“Now, that’s not uncommon,” she went on.

“Some of the biggest shopping sites known to man work that way, but this is just a tiny one—restaurant and brewery items. So, it’s curious, really.

A niche website with overpriced goods specific to your company’s needs springs into existence under a shroud of secrecy at the same time your new breweries open? Seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Do you think HopNBrew could be used to steal money? Marco’s name is all over this; it stinks, and he’s been chasing after cash. I’m trying to figure out if this is a separate problem, or if it's part of the Marco mess.”

Debbie closed her eyes and rocked back and forth in her chair. She turned and looked out the window, her stare focused in the distance.

After a bit, she pivoted back my way. “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking maybe it could.

” She leaned forward. “In theory, someone could buy goods at a low cost, then sell them back to the business at a higher price using the website as a front.

If they timed it right, they'd have a stream of money flowing in larger than the money flowing out. Plus, with the anonymity of the company, it would be hard to trace back to them.”

That had to be it. The final piece of the puzzle. “I think it’s time I confront Marco and Ian.”

“Do you want me to come?”