Justin set his water glass down so hard that the liquid splashed onto the tablecloth. “That is my bedroom, Dad, and that is where I study.”
“You are a grown boy now, Justin,” Warren dismissed him with a dismissive wave of his fork. “You can go find an apartment with your little girlfriend or figure something else out.”
Before Justin could lose his temper, the front door buzzer sounded again, signaling Candice’s arrival. She stepped into the dining area holding our old, heavy flat screen television with a noticeable scratch along the black plastic frame.
“Here is your television back, Brenda,” Candice announced loudly, setting the heavy set right on the sideboard. “Eleven years of staring at this stolen reminder was more than enough for my conscience.”
Warren turned a violent shade of crimson, dropping his silverware with a loud clatter. “What the hell are you doing in this house, Candice?”
“I came to return what you stole from your own child, Warren,” she snapped back, leaning over the table. “And I want everyone here to know that you still owe me forty thousand dollars from the vehicle loan you defaulted on before vanishing.”
“That car was an investment for our future together!” Warren shouted, slamming his heavy hand onto the dining table.
“It was an investment when you wanted to drive it, but it became solely my debt the second the payments were past due,” Candice countered with absolute disdain.
Evelyn Callahan began dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief as her husband shook his head in quiet shame. Kelly gently took Justin’s hand under the table, clearing her throat to break the suffocating tension.
“Justin and I also wanted to share some happy news tonight,” Kelly said with a hopeful smile. “We are getting married this coming May, and we are expecting our first child.”
My heart swelled with joy as I looked at my boy, while Russell reached across the table to squeeze Kelly’s fingers. Warren, however, leaned forward with a cynical sneer that instantly ruined the warmth of the moment.
“Congratulations, but that changes nothing regarding the house,” Warren said coldly. “If we cannot all fit under this roof, you two can move into my parents’ brick ranch over on the west side, since that property will belong to me eventually anyway.”
Russell set his fork down neatly and looked his son dead in the eye. “No, Warren, that house will never belong to you because your mother and I deeded the entire property to Justin five years ago, reserving only a life estate for ourselves.”
“You did what?” Warren gasped, his jaw slacking in utter shock.
“We transferred the title the moment you tried to trick us into taking out a second mortgage to cover your reckless gambling debts,” Russell stated without flinching.
Looking around the room for an easier target to belittle, Warren wheeled around to face me. “And what about you, Brenda? Eleven years running a little corner shop, giving away free styling to broke vagrants while waiting for someone to rescue you?”
“I am not waiting for anyone, Warren,” I answered steadily. “I have a wonderful partner who treats me with respect, and he is joining us for dessert tonight.”
Warren threw his head back and laughed mockingly. “Let me guess, did you sweet talk one of those penniless pensioners who comes in for a free trim?”
Nobody at the table uttered a sound as the doorbell chimed once more at half past eight. George stepped into the home carrying a fresh pastry box from the local bakery, still wearing his gray wool work vest straight from the lumber mill.
When George walked into the dining room, Warren sprang to his feet with such violent haste that his wine glass tipped over, splashing dark liquid across the white linen. Warren’s face turned completely ashen as his arrogant posture melted into sheer panic.
“Mr. Foley, sir,” Warren stammered, his hands trembling visibly at his sides. “I honestly had no idea you were connected to this family.”
George stood motionless in the doorway, studying him with cool, measured eyes. “I see you found your way back to Baltimore, Warren.”
“I swear on my life that I will have your payment ready within two weeks,” Warren babied, desperately trying to salvage his dignity. “There is no need to initiate legal proceedings against my accounts.”
I walked over and took George’s calloused hand in mine. “Warren, I would like you to meet my fiancé, George Foley.”
Warren looked between our joined hands, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish before his expression hardened into something thoroughly venomous. “Brenda, are you truly so blind that you do not realize what this man demanded from me in exchange for erasing my debt?”
George’s brow furrowed in warning. “Warren, think very carefully before you speak untruths in this house.”
“Ask him why he demanded my third of this townhouse, Brenda,” Warren spat back, pointing an accusing finger at George. “And then ask him what he plans to do with your share once you put a ring on his finger.”
PART 3
“That is an outright lie,” George answered with steady poise. “You offered your fractional deed as collateral when your checks bounced, and I rejected it on the spot because I only deal in valid financial instruments.”
“Of course you would deny everything while standing in front of your sweetheart!” Warren sneered, retreating toward the hallway.
Laura stood up immediately and pointed toward the door. “If you possess any signed collateral agreement, Warren, present it right now, otherwise cease these slanderous allegations and vacate the premises.”
Warren had nothing to show. He grabbed his duffel bag, swore under his breath, and slammed the front door hard enough to rattle the glass panes.
The dining room remained completely silent except for the faint hum of the old television resting on the sideboard. We all believed that humiliating exposure would drive him away permanently, but we severely underestimated his malice.
Five days later, Warren walked boldly into my salon during our busiest Thursday charity afternoon. He cornered me near the rear storage closet and pulled out a stamped promissory note for two hundred and eighty thousand dollars, bearing his signature alongside George Foley’s corporate timber seal.
“George Foley approached you because he wants to seize this entire block for development,” Warren whispered with venomous urgency. “He has commercial contracts and expensive attorneys, while you are just a woman with a pair of shears who knows nothing about business.”
