The Promise

Chapter 9

I ate dinner with Houser the next day. I thanked him for finding me the other night. It turns out I actually walked back to the City Kitchen with his help. I remembered nothing of the walk. Houser's lecture on how to survive winter on the streets was long and disjointed. There was no lesson plan, so he verbally hopped around telling me things out of order then backtracking to fill in the holes. I listened patiently, knowing he was the reason I was there to learn it. I gave him my white cake, the first repayment of many.

Sadie and I began working closer together. I learned proper menu management and inventory control. The problems that plagued me during her brief sickness were the norm, not the exception. She just had the tools to deal with them without panicking. The management skills she taught me would put Harvard Business School to shame. There was a change in Sadie during my schooling. She would smile more and became more tolerant. I still had to do it right, without exception. She just identified the many errors in a pleasant, non-demanding way.

I was able to get into another Roma tomato coring contest with Sadie. I attacked with vigor and was handily beaten again. She had nine years on me, but I think I did a lot better than the first time. I suspected I could beat her given a few more tries. I loved her victory face. Then again, maybe I would never win.

I enjoyed the escape from my past. I also knew that staying forever wasn't much of a possibility. I had commitments I had been ignoring that would cause festering problems if I continued to neglect them. Using the office computer, I logged into my bank account. I had a few months of overdue bills, and some of them mattered. A few clicks of the mouse and my mortgage and utility bills were brought up to date. I had to transfer cash from savings. I had enough to withstand nine months, maybe longer, if I ignored some things. Amber had always insisted on the buffer. She was my better mind.

I would lose my cable and the paper. Those bills were mailed anyway. Nothing to really fret about, I wasn't using them. I was a little concerned about my car. I had left it in the parking lot next to the theater and I wondered if it was still there. I shrugged my shoulders and made the back payments hoping it wasn't already repossessed. It felt a little weird paying the bills. I had spent a lot of time these last weeks, trying to avoid real life. I was taking a step toward normalcy, and I still wasn't wholly comfortable with the move. I had already checked the boxes and hit 'pay' so I couldn't step back. I stroked my growing beard and logged out. It was only a step, I'd take the leap later.

Three weeks after the IRS audit, a letter arrived. Sadie was crushed and I was livid. The IRS had identified the fifteen-dollar window cleaning payment as an undocumented cash disbursement. They claimed it indicated fraud and were notifying Sadie that a seven-year audit of both the City Kitchen, and her personally, would commence in ninety days. It was the second time I had seen Sadie cry. This time it was on my shoulder. It took a few minutes to return to work.

The City Kitchen's fundraising banquet was a week prior to the new audit. The pressure mounting on Sadie showed on her face. She couldn't stall the banquet, its proceeds were necessary to keep the kitchen open.

"They're going to ruin me," Sadie said with surprisingly calm, "maybe this was all meant to end." I saw the signs of depression setting in. I knew them well.

"Only if you let them." I avoided the word 'we.' It was hard not to try to make it our problem. It felt like it was ours.

"I'm going to need you if I fight," Sadie said as she stopped chopping celery and looked up at me. I tied off the garbage bag I had just pulled it out of the can and smiled with confidence. She needed the support.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I watched her lips curve into a malicious grin as she went back to the celery. The knife moved with blazing speed. I think she was imagining IRS fingers as she chopped.

Sadie woke me early the next morning. She handed me the morning paper. There was a small article in the bottom right of the front page. "Promise Keeper Alive?" was the heading.

"They say there were movements in your accounts," Sadie said quietly. There was no one else here, so I wasn't sure why she was almost whispering. "They are requesting you come forward."

"I paid some bills the other day," I whispered back. It was contagious, the whispering. "I guess they were monitoring the accounts." I read the article and, as Sadie had said, a detective Burkhardt was asking me to come forward and claim my wallet. "I'm not ready to go back. Not with that singing thing." For some reason, I didn't like being forced back into society. I was planning to drift back slowly. Sadie sat on the edge of the cot.

"You can hide as long as you need." She took the newspaper back. "Forever if you need to." Amber would have loved Sadie. Amber never let the world tell her what to do. She made up her own mind and then steered the world to it. I saw a lot of that drive in Sadie. I just needed to get the IRS out of her way so she could live her life, her way.

"Thank you," I responded, and meant it. Sadie's eyes sparkled as she rose.

"We have work to do," Sadie stated. It wasn't lost on me that she used the word 'we.' I jumped out of bed. There were people to feed and an IRS audit to thwart.

A week before the banquet, my beard had finally come into its own. Sadie hated it, but endured it for my anonymity. She gave me a trimmer so I would at least keep it groomed. I had spent countless hours going over Sadie's tax returns. There were no glaring errors. Nothing that would even hint at fraud. I was confident the witch hunt would end the next week. The IRS has a lot of power, but they would still have to defend themselves in court if need be.

Unfortunately, I was not prepared for the next bomb to drop. Sadie and I were standing at the head of the line, monitoring the dining hall when a large gentleman in jeans, red shirt, and cowboy hat pushed his way to the front. Sadie moved quickly, her glare set to dagger mode.

"You must be new," Sadie stated the obvious and moved to block the cowboy from moving forward. I moved in next to her, thinking she looked awfully small next the large man.

"Sadie Milstead?" the man asked with little politeness.

"Yes, and your name?" Sadie responded with an equal lack of charm. The man handed her an envelope.

"You've been served." The cowboy smiled and headed out the door. Sadie's shoulders slumped, then her back straightened again. She moved back to allow the rest of the line through, gritting her teeth.

"Can you keep your eyes on things, Frank?" Sadie asked with false calm. I nodded and she headed off to the office. She didn't return.

When the meal ended, I started the cleanup process without Sadie. When everyone was assigned a task I went to the office, my temporary home, looking for her. I found her asleep on the cot. Sadie's eye sockets were blushed red and sunken. I quietly moved to the desk where a stapled set of papers lay. The top sheet had a few small crinkled spots where wetness had dried. Tears.

I picked up the papers and read. I felt my throat knot at the first few paragraphs. A class action lawsuit filed by a donor claiming fraud. There were twenty some pages of legal language and the citing of precedents. Both the City Kitchen and Sadie were at risk. These people, whoever they were, were not going to stop with a fraudulent IRS audit. Sadie was right; they were going to ruin her.

I sat on the floor and watched Sadie sleep. I wanted to wake her and tell her it was going to be okay, but that would only make it worse for her. In the end, she was innocent and would prevail. I just didn't know if she could survive until the end. The lawyers she needed to hire would most likely charge enough to send everything into a financial tailspin.

I rose, opened the file cabinet, and retrieved the donor book for three years ago. I turned to the page with Amber's name and ran my finger across it. Amber saw something in this place, something in need of support. There was no way I was going to let Amber or Sadie down, not while I was breathing. Defense was no longer an option.

I left Sadie sleeping, and quietly left the room. She needed the sleep, and I needed to think. I cleaned and inspected, letting the helpers go once everything was to Sadie's standards. I locked up and sat in the dining hall, thinking. The rudiments of a plan developed, I knew the lawsuit wasn't the end. The timing was deliberate. They meant to kill the banquet and destroy the City Kitchen's funding. Things would get worse before they got better. I would need help, and, to get it, I had to come out of hiding.