“But we need money,” Nieves says. “Stanley was supposed to tell you? We really do. Right away.”
Stanley’s face is a dark putty-color.
“Oh. Yes,” Brian says.
“You already knew about this?” Avis releases his hand.
“No, no — not the baby! Nothing about the baby.”
The baby.
“Stanley was supposed to tell you,” Nieves says.
“What?” Avis’s voice wobbles; her neck feels hot.
Brian puts his hand on Avis’s arm while addressing Nieves. “Remind me—”
“One hundred twenty-six thousand dollars,” Nieves says. “We have to get that much, or it won’t work.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Avis says. She doesn’t care for this girl. She places her hands square on her knees — they feel knobby; the bones in her back feel sharp as piano keys. Already a querulous old lady. “A hundred twenty-six thousand? My God, how do you expect us to come up with that sort of money?”
Stanley starts shaking his head heavily. They’ve bailed him out a number of times in the past with small gifts, disbursements, a few thousand here and there; one loan of twenty-five thousand, which he’d partially paid off and they’d forgiven the remaining seventeen. But this sounds like extortion to Avis — this dreadful girl, using the threat of a grandchild. Another thought comes to her: could they even be sure that the child is Stanley’s? She must discuss this with Stanley in private. But he’s looking at her now as if he were embarrassed or disappointed. “Mom, I talked with Dad — I mean we thought we could get away with eighty thousand before but our other investors — their money’s tied up—”
“It’s true, dear,” Brian interrupts, his hand curved around her forearm. “We did discuss this — Stan and me. I’d been meaning to talk it over with you — well, we’ve both been so busy.” He lowers his head, touches the back of his neck reflectively. “It’s hard to know exactly the best moment for these things.”
“Stanley—tell them,” the girl says.
Stanley’s gaze rests a beat too long on Avis. “I didn’t want to worry either of you.” He rolls forward to put down his cup. “The thing is… the owner of my property keeps getting approached by commercial developers — I guess Homestead is getting kind of hot all of a sudden.”
“I knew it,” Brian bursts out. “Dammit. Goddamn gold-diggers.”
“He’s a good guy — Calvin Mails, the owner. He’s trying to work with us, but there’s all these sorts of crazy numbers flying around and he’s ready to sell.”
“We can buy the building and land for five hundred K,” Nieves cuts in. “Basically, that price? He’s doing us a huge favor because he loves Stan. He could probably get almost twice that. But it means we’ve got to raise twenty percent just to qualify for the loan. Plus a little extra for closing costs and expenses.”
“Of course, of course…” Brian mutters, glaring at his lap.
“All our money’s been going right back into the business — it’s been strictly subsistence living — for both of us,” Stanley adds, linking his fingers with Nieves’s.
“You remember?” Brian chides, brows lifted. “I warned you!”
“Dad.” He sighs through his nose. “I didn’t have the money to buy the place five years ago any more than I do now. Twenty thousand or a hundred. It might as well be the moon.”
“Well, but twenty is a whole other—”
“Dad, believe me — we’ve tried — literally — everything we could to avoid coming to you. But once we’re owners, it’ll be different. The market’s really healthy. I don’t know exactly when, but — I swear — we’ll pay you back soon. With interest.”
“Interest isn’t the point here, son. And actually, interest rates on business loans—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Nieves erupts. “What matters is that if we don’t buy the building we’ll lose the market. We can’t even afford to relocate — there is no place cheaper.”
Avis’s body fills with adrenaline tremors. She holds the lapels of her blouse closed in her fist, presses the silk against her throat. It is intolerable. The problem, as she sees it, is this — this Nieves. Where did she come from? Look at her, slouching, her tight shirt, the blebs of fat just beneath the corners of her sulking mouth. She thinks she can just waltz in here and take their son and their money? And now she’ll produce a child to torment and blackmail them with — threaten to never let them see the baby unless they do as she says. The first grandchild. Their feelings are immateriaclass="underline" Avis and Brian will have to dance to this girl’s tune. It is unbearable, absolutely unendurable.
Avis stands. She is gratified to see a spark of anxious curiosity on Nieves’s face. “No,” Avis says, her voice ridged with emotion. “It’s not fair. This isn’t right or fair.”
“Dearest.” Brian’s hand lingers on her wrist; she yanks it away.
“I won’t do it — I won’t do any of whatever you think you’re cooking up,” she says to Nieves. “I’ve been tortured enough already, thank you very much.”
“Cooking up?” Nieves looks at Stanley. “What?”
Stanley’s expression opens to incredulity; his eyes flick between his parents.
Avis’s pulse is pounding so hard it seems it must be visible. In some way, this girl is the reason that things aren’t right. Because that’s what a girl like this does — breaks into a family, sets them against each other.
Brian stands beside her now, sliding an arm around her shoulder. Is he shaking? “Oh… She doesn’t mean that at all! Avis hasn’t been feeling well,” he says lightly. “There’ve been these — disturbances — in the neighborhood lately…” Was that a chuckle? “Please — kids — we do—we want to help you — your mother and I both,” he says to Stanley. “We just haven’t had a chance to discuss any of this between the two of us. It is a lot of money. And — well — now a baby coming! It’s all just a bit overwhelming, you know? I think Mom’s just in a state of, like, shock — aren’t you?” He gives Avis’s shoulders a squeeze. She lowers her eyes and finds she’s staring at the navy polish on the girl’s toes, the thong of a silver-sequined flip-flop.
Stanley rises as well. “Well,” he says quietly. He clears his throat. “Well I guess this wasn’t the way I expected things to go.”
Avis interposes herself between Stanley and the girl (which isn’t difficult, as the girl remains seated after Stanley has risen, Avis notes, as if it’s all a matter of supreme indifference to her if they stay or go) and puts her imploring hands on his chest “Stanny…” She is reassured by the solidity of her son’s chest, his familiar smell of toothpaste and grassy earth, his boy scent. “You’re trying to replace her. Felice turning eighteen — a little like losing her again, isn’t it? I think it is. Almost worse in a way…” Her eyes darken. Brian clears his throat as if about to speak and her focus returns. “I have — just a suggestion. Why don’t you and your girl try staying here—with us, for a while? We’ll give you some money and we can cover your living costs while you figure things out with the market. Would that be nice? Let’s just try being a family together again,” she says quietly, ignoring Brian, who keeps trying to cut in. “My goodness, Stan, you’re practically still a baby yourself! Let us take care of you. I mean both of you, of course. We’ll help with the money. But just come home for a bit.” As she speaks, Avis feels buoyed by this idea: Stanley needs to come home! They would make it up to him — whatever he thought he’d been missing. It wasn’t too late — they could show him. And if he insists on bringing this girl — fine. “It’s a bit of a mess,” she says as gently as possible to Stanley. “No, of course — this baby is wonderful news. But you two don’t have any idea what you’re in for. You’re going to need us.”