Restoring Harmony Part 19

"What about you?" Grandpa asked.

"Spill needs my help," I said.

"Molly, I highly doubt that," he said. "The Organization is nothing to fool with. Remember Doug's warning?" He held out a hand to me. "I want you to come with us."

I ran across the room to the French doors before he could stop me. "Don't worry," I said. "I'll be fine. Spill's there."

Silently, I made my way across the deck and down the stairs into the yard and then edged my way to the gap in the fence. I could hear rumbling voices next door already. I inched closer and closer, step by step, until my body was pressed against the boards of the fence and I could see through the hole we'd made.

Four huge men plus Randall and Spill stood around Doug. He sat in a chair, white and shaking. A slender woman with blond hair twisted up in a knot perched on the edge of the other chair. She wore a dark suit jacket with a slim skirt and the highest stiletto heels I'd ever seen in person.

"I-I can pay, really," Doug stammered.

"So pay," Randall said. His voice was soft, but cold.

"I don't have cash but-"

"All gambling debts are to be paid in cash," growled Randall.

"I can't . . . I don't . . . ," Doug muttered. "Maybe I could work it off?"

"How?" asked the woman.

"I don't know. . . ." The right side of Doug's face was shiny and pink, as if someone had hit him hard already. His hair was loose from his normal ponytail, and his voice sounded shaky, like he was in pain. "I could do what these guys do," he said. "I'm strong."

The woman looked at the sky like she was considering it and then she laughed. "Funny as it seems, I'm not very fond of gamblers. Especially ones who lose and then don't pay me. Besides, I only employ honorable people."

Doug looked like he wanted to run, but the men were grouped around him. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked.

"Now why would I I do that when I have five employees who would enjoy doing the job more than I would?" do that when I have five employees who would enjoy doing the job more than I would?"

They were going to murder him? They couldn't do that. Spill had to stop them, but he didn't move. His expression was grim and cold. In his suit he looked just like one of them. Or was he simply waiting for the right moment? What if he couldn't help him? Doug had walked away, leaving me to my fate at the market, but how could I face Brandy and Michael knowing I hadn't at least tried to save their only living relative? But what could I do?

"If you're absolutely sure you can't pay," the woman said, "then I guess it's time to take a little ride."

Doug looked around furtively, trying to find an escape route. The only way out was through his own house or through the gaping hole in the fence and into ours. I suddenly knew why Spill had wanted everyone in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Doug started to stand and then he dropped down like he was going to crawl under the table. One of the men flipped it over, and they grabbed him by the hair, dragging him to his feet.

Doug swung his fists wildly and managed to hit one of the men square in the jaw. The man fell back onto the table as Doug tried to make another run for it, but this time a giant slugged him in the stomach. He doubled over and fell to the ground, writhing, as the men kicked at him. His ribs had gotten better but were not completely healed, and his screams pierced my heart.

"No! No! Please! Stop!" Doug yelled. "I'll pay. I'll pay you somehow. Spill? Help me."

Spill, his face expressionless, didn't move. I felt like he'd poured ice water over me.

"Enough," said the woman. "Let's go."

The men stopped kicking and waited while Doug used the chair to pull himself up. Once he was standing, he grabbed at the chair and tried to swing it, but because of his ribs, he only managed to lift it about an inch off the ground and then he stumbled forward.

"Want some more?" one of the men asked. Instantly they were on him again.

And then I heard Brandy's shrill scream from the deck of my grandparents' house. "Let me go!" she shrieked. "I want Uncle!"

Before I could react, she flew by me and into her yard. "No! Brandy! No!" I ran after her and scooped her up just before she reached the stairs to the deck.

"Uncle!" she screamed, banging at me with her fists and kicking at my shins. I pulled her as tightly to me as I could and ran back towards our yard. Grandpa came hurrying through the gap in the fence, gasping for air, his gla.s.ses missing.

"Take her," I said, shoving her into his arms. She wailed one last pitiful howl and then collapsed against him, limp, sobbing. He staggered back to the house, whispering to her.

"Well, well," said the woman, standing and looking across the yard at me. "You must be the famous Handsome Molly."

I nodded, embarra.s.sed that she'd called me that. She seemed to be the one in charge. Maybe she would understand about the kids needing Doug. "Are you . . . are you the Boss?" I asked.

She smiled, but there was nothing behind it. "The one and only."

We stood there staring at each other. Every nerve in my body was tight and twisted. She looked calm and cool. Of course, she was used to this . . . this . . . violence. I looked at Spill for help, but he was watching Doug. Was he was avoiding my eye on purpose?

"What are you going to do to him?" I asked the Boss.

"I think you know," she said. "You were listening the whole time, weren't you?"

I thought about the gold tucked in my pocket and instinctively touched my hand to my jeans. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spill shake his head. I looked at him and this time he mouthed something at me. What was he saying? And then I understood.

"He doesn't have any money," I said. "But there's something else."

"What's that?" she asked. Her manner was bored, and she patted her blond hair as if what I had to say was just taking up her precious time.

"Food," I said, my insides sinking into the ground.

"What food? This garden? It's past its heyday, I'm afraid."

"Not the garden. Preserved food," I said. "And potatoes, turnips, carrots . . . other stuff."

What was I doing? What would the kids eat all winter?

"Show me," she said.

I crossed over to the carefully laid cornstalks, kicked them off the root cellar, and yanked open the trapdoor. Randall peered down inside.

"Well?" asked the Boss.

He shrugged. "Hard to see, but it looks like enough to cover the interest."

That was it?

The Boss tapped her fingers on her thigh. "Hmmm . . . the interest. Not good enough."

"What about the house?" I asked.

"What about it?" she said.

"Don't you own this house, Doug? Maybe you could sell it . . . or . . . or give her the house."

"I tried to sell it," Doug said. "No one wants to buy it."

The Boss let her gaze wander over the yard and then back to the house. "Do you really own it? Outright? Your name's on the deed?"

"Yeah," Doug said. "My parents left it to my sister. Now that she's dead, I'm the proud owner of this worthless shack."

"Oh, I don't know about worthless," the Boss said.

She walked over to the French doors and stepped inside. A minute later, she came out. "No furniture," she said. "That's a plus. Nothing to get rid of. I suppose the Organization could always use a big house like this for storage. Especially one that isn't traceable to us by any kind of paperwork and is legitimately owned by someone else. And it's out of the way, but not too far from the market."

She walked over to Doug, who was still lying on the ground. She lifted one foot and placed the heel of her shoe right onto his hand, pinning it to the deck. "I don't like to kill family men," she said, digging her heel into his palm just enough to make him wince. "But I will if I have to. For now, I'll take the food and this house, and we'll call it even. You've got one week to vacate or you're mine. Understand?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you!" Doug said, trying to sit up, but falling back, shuddering with pain.

"Don't thank me," she said. "Thank Molly." She turned to the men. "Load up that food, and let's get out of here."

Spill helped them without ever looking my way.

30.

September 28th-Uncle Ralph reminds you, "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link."

I PERSONALLY WOULD'VE PACKED UP AND LEFT right after the incident with Doug, but unfortunately, he'd disappeared and left us with Brandy and Michael.

"We can't just leave," Grandpa said.

"Forty-eight hours," I told him. "That's all I'm giving him. And then we'll have to figure out something to do about the kids." I didn't know what, but I wanted to get home and now that I had the gold, I wasn't going to wait any longer.

It rained for two days straight, and we were all on edge. The kids snapped at each other, and Grandma couldn't distract them with games or books. Brandy wasn't speaking to either me or Grandpa because even though I don't think she'd seen Doug lying on the ground all b.l.o.o.d.y, she knew we'd kept her from him for some reason.

Doug's forty-eight hours were almost up, and I wanted to leave, so I went over to his house one more time, just to see if maybe he'd come home in the night. I pounded on his back door, but no one answered so I stuck my head inside and yelled for him. Finally, I went in and spent about ten minutes searching the house. He was definitely gone. He'd left the kids and run off.

I hurried back home through the rain, furious that we'd let him out of our sight. What was I going to do now? I couldn't turn Brandy and Michael over to Child Welfare, but I couldn't just take them to Canada, either. I raced up the stairs of our deck, my head down against the wind, and crashed right into Spill.

"Sheesh!" I said. "You scared me to death."

"Sorry." He smiled, but there was worry written all over his face.

"Nice of you to finally show up," I snapped. I brushed my wet hair out of my face. "I thought maybe you might've come around yesterday."

Spill shuffled his feet. "I was kind of busy."

"Doing what? Roughing up some other gambler?"

He looked at me, curious. "Are you mad at me?"

"Maybe," I said. I knew I was pouting like Brandy did when she was being unreasonable.

"Why?" he asked. "What'd I do?"

"More like what you didn't do." He didn't respond. "I thought thought we were friends, Spill." we were friends, Spill."

He smiled like he didn't get what was bugging me. "We are."

"Well, you could've stepped in so we didn't have to give all that food to the Boss."

"That's what you think?" His voice had turned surprisingly cold.

I looked at him, but he wouldn't meet my eye. "Well . . . couldn't you?" I asked.

"For your information, Aunt Lili let him off easy. Yeah, she can use the house, but she could have any place she wants. She knew Doug had Brandy and Michael, so she was being nice."

"That was Aunt Lili? Your aunt Lili is the Boss?"

"Of course. What'd you think?"

I hadn't thought anything. Why would I have made that connection? "You could've mentioned that before!"

He shook his head, frustrated with me for some reason. "I just a.s.sumed you knew."

"How would I know?"

He shrugged. "Everyone knows."

Did my grandpa know? And Doug? How come no one had told me? Had they just thought I knew too?

"Look, forget about Aunt Lili," he said. "And forget about Doug. Come inside. I need to talk to you."

I went with him, but not because he asked me to. I went because I was cold and wet and I wanted to get warm. Inside, I wrapped a blanket around myself and sat on the end of the settee, crossing my arms, hoping to look tough.

"Is the money from the whiskey enough to get us home if we have Brandy and Michael too?" I asked.

"You're going to take the kids?"

"I'm not sure, but Doug seems to have disappeared."

"I think it's great that you want to take them, and there's enough gold," he said, "but we have a bigger problem than money."

"What do you mean?"