#helena ragsdale
“Forgive me,” James said with a smile as the waitress placed the last drink down and returned behind the counter. “I know my dear wife asked you a lot of questions about your business, but I’d like to ask my own, if I may?”
“Dad, really? Must you start business talk—”
“That is why I asked, son. He can say no if he minds.”
Maurice chuckled at the similar defensiveness Rue had shown his mother last time. “I really don’t.”
“See, Rupert?”
Rupert rolled his eyes and turned to start a quiet conversation with his mother and sister instead.
“This business partner of yours, you say he doesn’t carry his weight?”
Maurice snorted. “Nope. Pays up his percentage of maintenance and other expenses, takes his share of the profit, and that’s it. Haven’t even seen him in the last six months. Not sure he’s even in the country right now, to be honest.”
“Really? …May I ask why you got into business with such a person?”
Maurice dropped eye contact to rub his neck with a weary sigh. “After I renovated my parents’ house to… something I could live in, I didn’t have enough to cover the entire cost of the bar, and no bank would lend that amount to a nineteen-year-old starting his first business. Especially to buy a bar. The guy’s an old business associate of my father’s, and he offered to put up the rest. I was naive to be so blind; he was after an investment without any effort. Shoulda known better.” An understatement, he thought to himself.
James nodded neutrally, though Maurice could see the cogs ticking behind that calm exterior. “And you want rid of him?”
“Yeah, of course. Another”—he paused to calculate—“six months, year, maybe? And I should have enough to buy him out.”
“That’s not bad.” James nodded, looking genuinely impressed. “You must be good at budgeting, then. Better than most your age, anyway.”
“I guess.” Maurice shrugged uncertainly. “Been pretty lucky, though. No mortgage to pay on my parents’ house. One of the only bars in town, too,” he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Don’t think turnover would be quite as good otherwise.”
James smiled faintly. “Don’t quote me on this, but a sizeable part of business success comes down to good luck.”
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Before Maurice could speak, James stepped forward, hand extended. It took a few confused moments for Maurice to realise the purpose behind the gesture.
“I would like to apologise for our first meeting,” James said a little stiffly, though this time it was undoubtedly more from discomfort than contempt. Maurice quickly recovered. The handshake, though firm, was much more genuine than their last, holding no apparent signs of hostility. “I hope you will allow me to start over, set a new first impression?”
“Uh, s-sure,” Maurice stammered uncharacteristically. “Uh, I-I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth. I didn’t exactly help with my own behaviour…”
“All forgotten,” James said, holding his hands up. “You are working today?”
“Uh, n-no.” Uneasy, Maurice’s eyes briefly flicked just over James’ shoulder to where Rupert stood tensely observing them. Jaw clenched tight, eyes keenly flitting between the two, he was probably waiting for something to go wrong.
“Good. Then you will allow me to take you both to lunch to make up for the last one.”
“Oh, um. Yeah, sure.” From the corner of his eye, Maurice watched Rupert let out a small, silent sigh of relief.
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At the knock of the door, Maurice jolted upright, spluttering and almost spilling tea down his sweater. “Uh, fuck, I-I should—”
“Maury, you’re my boyfriend,” Rupert said with a soft, amused sigh, giving him a reassuring smile as he moved to open the door. “It’s really not a big deal if they work out you stayed the night, you know?”
“Uh, right, right…” Hastily placing down his mug, Maurice was suddenly unsure of what to do with his unsteady hands. He folded his arms, though quickly recognised that might look hostile and dropped them, absently drumming his fingers on his thigh instead. His stomach squirmed as Rupert’s parents caught sight of him.
“Good morning,” Helena said with a pleasant smile.
“Uh, m-morning…”
“Good morning.” Though he looked uncomfortable, the way James held himself did not seem nearly as unfriendly as their last encounter.
“Morning!”
Maurice jumped, having somehow missed the teenager sneaking in. Victoria leant on the counter, smiling sweetly at him, and he attempted to smile in return.
“M-morning.”
He realised he should probably leave the kitchen, though the island made such a comforting shield between them and him. But that’s rude, right? With a steeling breath, he forced himself upright and out into the living space.
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