She set it down.
“If Marcus wants to work here, learn the books, understand payroll, stand beside a dishwasher at one in the morning when the drain backs up, then we can talk about ownership.”
Maya smiled.
“So no.”
“So not automatically.”
Two weeks later, Marcus came to Ruth’s house.
He carried a folder.
Ruth knew enough about family disasters by then to distrust folders.
“What is that?”
“Payment plan.”
“For the dinner?”
“Yes.”
Ruth opened it.
Marcus had already paid one-third of the balance.
The rest was divided into two payments.
She nodded.
“Good.”
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
He sat.
“I called Loretta.”
Ruth looked up.
“Why?”
“I wanted to understand.”
“Did Amber know?”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“What did Loretta say?”
Marcus rubbed his hands together.
“She admitted most of it.”
“Most?”
“She won’t tell us exactly what Anthony needed the money for when Amber was eighteen.”
“Then do not guess.”
“I know.”
Ruth smiled faintly.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Marcus continued.
“She said she sold her share of the restaurant because Anthony was in debt.”
