Chapter Nine
1273 Words
Chapter Nine
Adalia held the credit card bill in the light, so she could read it properly. Her heart sank, but she couldn’t look away from the figures at the bottom of the page. Her dad was in debt and there was nothing she could do about it but find another place to live.
“Dad?” she called out, softly in case he was actually asleep. “Dad, are you up?” It wasn’t that late, but he’d been ill lately.
“I’m in the living room,” he grunted and she made her way through and sat down opposite him. He was laid up on the sofa, covered in a blanket. He’d sniffled less at breakfast, which was surely a good sign he’d be back on his feet soon. Not that he hadn’t paid his dues already, but a business didn’t run itself, certainly not one of the plumbing variety.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Thought that’s what you were doing, girl,” he grumbled, and muted the TV. It was some high speed chase down the highway, and his attention remained glued on the screen, despite the lack of sound.
“I found this.” She held up the bill and he glanced at it and then back at the TV.
“Shouldn’t go rifling through someone else’s mail, Adalia. It’s rude.”
“I thought it was for me.” She was so used to living alone that when she saw the surname Montclair on the letter, she assumed it was for her. “I only realized after I’d read it that it was yours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “what do you want to know, girl?”
“Dad, are you in trouble financially?”
“The bill should have made it plain that I am.” He still didn’t give her his full attention.
“What’s the matter? Is the business not pulling in enough money?”
Sylvester heaved a sigh then pushed himself upright at an angle, to better rest his back on the arm of the cream sofa. “It’s difficult to pull in money when you’re not working due to illness.”
He hated being idle, she got that, but did he have to be so curt with her? She was just trying to help.
“What happened to Fred?” He was the assistant at the shop, and usually went out to do the heavy-duty jobs that Sylvester couldn’t handle.
“Had to let him go.”
“Why?!” Adalia kicked off her high heels and tucked her feet underneath her butt, retaining the alarmed posture she’d held since the start of the conversation.
“Because he relocated to another town. Haven’t had a chance to hire anyone else ‘cos I’ve been ill, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to afford it at this rate.”
“Dad, everything’s going to be all right.” But guilt plagued her. She’d moved in shortly after he’d kicked out his last tenant. Her father usually stayed in the basement, the old room Mike had lived in before he’d left home, and rented the main floors out to a family or a bachelor or anyone willing to live in the shitty neighborhood.
With her in the house, that source of revenue had dropped, too.
“Dad, I’ll move out.” Adalia dropped the credit card bill on the wooden coffee table.
“What are you talking about? Who said anything about moving out?” Sylvester made an impatient clicking noise with his tongue. “You always jump to the worst conclusions, my girl.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, I know you were renting this place out before I came along and that I’ve kinda cut down that source of revenue. Look, the bakery’s doing really well, I can afford it.”
It was a lie. This was the first month of the new business, and they were on Trent’s financial backing. She’d get a payout but it wouldn’t be huge until they were fully established.
“You’re staying,” he said, then unmuted the TV as if that was the end of the discussion.
Adalia talked over the blaring sirens and crazed commentary. “I’m going.”
He muted it again and turned to her. “I like having the top floor to myself, I like having you in the house. I don’t feel so damn lonely anymore, and I’ll be on my feet in no time. You’re staying in this house.”
“Dad, come on, we both know that’s not true,” she said in her most patient tones, but it seemed to set him on edge anyway. He straightened up further and swung his legs over the side of the sofa. “You’re still sick and you haven’t improved enough to get back to work. The doctor would freak out if he knew you’d even suggested it.”
“It’s a common cold, it will pass.”
“Yeah, but not for a while. No offense, but you’re old and these things take time. It would be much cheaper for me to move out now, rather than leech off your resources for another month.”
“Adalia, I do not want you to leave this house until you can afford it. Can you?”
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t lie to a direct question like that. Adalia Montclair was many things, and a terrible liar was definitely on that list.
“That’s what I thought. There’s no use trying to hide from it, girl. We need each other right now and I don’t want to see you move out before I’m sure you’re back on your feet good and proper.”
“What about you? You’re not exactly a spring chicken. Should you really be running around, fiddling with toilets all day long?” She couldn’t help getting irritated about this. She hated that level of control her father had over her, but he was right and she couldn’t change that.
“I am what I am and I’ll do what I need to do to survive. Besides, if I’m ever in any real trouble, Mike will help me out.” Sylvester didn’t realize he’d pitted her brother against her again, but Adalia was used to it.
He slid down on the sofa again and reached for the remote. “We done here?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Is there anything you need?”
“Cup of coffee would be good. No, wait, a cup of tea. No, wait, a cup of coffee.”
“Hot cocoa?”
“That’s the stuff,” he replied, then tapped the side of his nose and pointed at her. “You’ve got a gift, my girl, for knowing what people need and when.” He unmuted the TV and went back to his viewing pleasure.
Adalia stood and strolled into the kitchen, but her emotions were anything but easy. She was most definitely a financial burden to her father. She’d bought groceries where she could, tried to pay her way, but the money she’d earned at the market had barely covered it, and she’d yet to see any return from the new business endeavor.
There had to be a way she could get out of there and fast.
If her father got in trouble with banks, he’d have nowhere to go except to Mike, and God knew he needed his independence.
Adalia gritted her teeth and boiled the kettle, then went to get milk out of the fridge. There was a car backfire outside, or a gunshot, and she jumped slightly, sloshing some of the fluid onto the floor.
“How’s that cocoa coming?” Sylvester yelled from the living room. “It’s getting interesting in here. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“I’ll be right there,” she called back, but she wiped tears from her cheeks after she’d answered. There wasn’t enough milk for the cocoa, now.
Adalia fetched the tea instead then put the bag into her father’s old, chipped mug with a sigh.
She wouldn’t ask Trent for money. She simply wouldn’t. She just had to find another way of getting out of her father’s hair, so that he could get back on track.
The title Adalia the Burden didn’t suit her.
She shrugged her shoulders and poured the boiling water into the mug.
- Writer
