Page 12 of Merry Fake Bride

An amicable silence falls over the table as we eat silently, switching from soup to bread and back.

But my mind doesn’t stay quiet.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” She glances up from her phone which she’s set next to her soup bowl.

“I saw the letter.”

“Which letter?”

Dad pauses eating and glances between the two of us. “Yeah, what letter?”

“From the lawyer.”

Lowering my spoon into my barely eaten soup, I rest my elbows on the table. “In your purse. I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry. But…” Sighing softly, I dive right in. “Why didn’t you tell me you were behind on rent?”

“Oh.” Dad’s mustache trembles and he stares down at his soup.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Mom says with a wide smile. “I don’t want you to fret.”

“I am going to worry, Mom. When I found out that Silver Canopy was buying up everything on the block, you told me not to worry, but I researched them and I saw their plans. I saw how they bully businesses, especially smaller ones, and how they always get their way. I’ve been working with your finances to fight all the threats they’ve been sending, but I saw nothing in the documents you gave me to suggest that you have money problems.”

“Devon, we don’t have money problems,” Dad says, and he looks as if he’s going to say more, but a look from Mom silences him.

“You have to tell me the truth. I thought you owned the bakery outright?”

“Devon, after everything you were going through with?—”

“Please don’t say his name,” I cut in quickly.

Mom nods. “We didn’t want to put more stress on you. When you turned up on our doorstep six months ago, I barely recognized you. It was like all the light was gone from you. How could I in good conscience tell you we had some troubles?”

“You asked me to help you. Did you think I would never find out?”

“Honestly,” Dad says gruffly, “we thought we could get you back on your feet and back out into the world before it became a serious problem.”

“You’re four months behind on rent. Why are you still even paying rent?”

Mom lowers her spoon. “We always planned to buy the land rights,” she says, “but we just never got around to it. And we’d been there for so long that we thought it wouldn’t matter.”

In some cases it wouldn’t matter, given how long the bakery has stood there and been in the family since my grandparents, but companies like Silver Canopy don’t care.

They bulldoze and pressure and undermine until people are forced to sell because there’s no other choice.

“But we make good money. The bakery is always bringing in a lot of money, and your award winnings from the summer fete andall the shows you cater… How is this happening? Is this why we don’t have deliveries anymore? Are you paying out of your own pocket?”

My parents exchange a look and then Mom sighs.

“Our supplier just couldn’t work with us anymore. I don’t know why, but I think Silver Canopy did something. Then they quadrupled the rent,” she says flatly. “It was so much that we missed the rent payments as we can no longer afford them outright.”

“What? They can’t do that!”

“They can,” Dad says. “We spoke to our lawyer. Something about our presence and how the empty block is detrimental to ownership. When silver Canopy bought up the land rights five years ago, they didn’t care to honor any legacies, but we didn’t think it would be a problem. Now, it’s basically a punishment for not selling. They raise the rent until we can’t afford to survive.”

Four times an increase?

That’s sickening.