Grace recounted the Darla incident, and Ryan seemed especially intrigued.
“Sounds like Penny’s with her people,” he said.
Once again, Grace summoned the willpower to ignore her son.
“If Penny’s innocent she shouldn’t be locked up a minute longer than she needs to be, which means that Annie, I’ll need your full attention on this. You can’t put in hours at the restaurant and do what needs to be done, not until we exhaust all the possibilities. Can you commit to that?”
Grace was extremely grateful Annie’s Florida move wasn’t happening until after the trial. Ryan cleared his throat loudly.
“Um, excuse me,” he said, “but we do have a business to run.”
“I know that, sweetheart,” said Grace, “but I can’t work here until this is behind us. My entire focus has to be on Penny. The trial is weeks away. You’re just going to have to hire replacements for Annie and me for the short term.”
Ryan sent a look of pure indignation. He took a massive gulp of beer, but it didn’t seem to cool him down. “That’s all well and good, Mom,” he said angrily. “If you recall, you and Annie aren’t drawing salaries at the moment because a big chunk of the money we have to pay staff is being funneled to Penny’s defense. So where am I supposed to get the money to hire two new people?”
“I don’t know that answer off the top of my head. We’re just going to have to figure it out. We’re all fumbling our way through this.”
Ryan’s expression soured. “You’re going to fumble your way right into closing this restaurant for good. How would Dad feel about that? Huh? That his precious Penny cost us everything he and Grandpa worked so hard to build? We’re already in debt to our suppliers. If I can’t make the minimum payments, they’ll cut us off, no question about it. A lot of our regulars have left us high and dry, and now you’re doing the same.”
“I hear you, Ryan, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Ryan snapped. “You had a choice that day in the park to let the state take care of Penny, same as you had a choice not to give Dad a hard time about putting her where she belonged—which, by the way, happens to be where she is right now, in a loony bin. But no, you had to keep pushing, keep advocating for her, not caring a damn what it did it to me, to Dad, and now you don’t care about the restaurant either.”
Ryan got up so fast the chair he’d been sitting on toppled to the floor with a loud clatter. He stormed off, feet stomping as he went.
Annie patted Grace’s hand in a placating way. “We’ll figure out the money,” she said. “We’ll get more loans if we have to.”
“No, we won’t,” said Grace, a whisper of defeat in her voice. “No bank is going to touch us, not with the debt load we’re carrying.” She sighed aloud. “But I don’t have a choice, and I need your help, Annie.”
“Mom, what if Ryan’s right and you lose the restaurant?” Jack asked with concern.
“What if your sister goes to prison for life for a crime she didn’t commit?”
Jack said nothing, because what was there to say?
CHAPTER 23
THAT WAS AN INTERESTING night at Big Frank’s—tense to say the least. I couldn’t blame Mom for taking a leave of absence, and I couldn’t blame Ryan for his frustration. His concerns had merit. As for me, it felt like my film about you was evolving right before my eyes.
Vincent Rapino was a born dirtbag. He needed （and was going to get） more scrutiny. What I didn’t realize was how much of a role Maria would play. I thought she was a footnote, mention-worthy only because of those murder fantasies in which you wrote about Rachel Boyd.
But after viewing Dr. McHugh’s video, I had to rethink Maria’s significance. It’s no big revelation that Maria was not my favorite of your friends, but thanks to Chloe and her got-to-get-an-A perfectionism, you didn’t have many to choose from. You’d sacrificed your entire social life for your grades.
Mom and Dad couldn’t have been happier about your scholastic ambitions, but they worried you were putting undue pressure on yourself. Sorry to report, you were never that great a student. When your first science quiz came back with a B, you returned home from school that day utterly inconsolable.
“I don’t get Bs anymore,” you wailed at dinner. “Call the school! Tell them we have to get my grade changed. We have to do it now!”