Chapter 6 - Rick Said He Had Earned the Money
Walter confronted Rick with an accountant present.
No shouting.
No family audience.
Numbers first.
Current cash shortages over eighteen months:
$18,740.
Unexplained tip reconciliation deductions:
$6,920.
Personal charges on the diner card:
$4,310.
Rick stared at the report.
“This is garbage.”
The accountant answered:
“Then documentation should clear it.”
Rick looked at Walter.
“You’re doing this because Mara poisoned you.”
Walter’s chest tightened.
“Explain the transfers.”
“I reimbursed myself.”
“For what?”
“Mileage. Supplies. Repairs.”
“Show receipts.”
“I didn’t keep every receipt.”
“Then explain the tip deductions.”
“Chargebacks.”
“Six thousand dollars?”
Rick stood.
“You know what? Fine.”
He paced the office.
“You want the truth?”
Walter waited.
“I kept this place alive.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“When June got sick, Mara disappeared into spreadsheets and accusations.”
“She took care of her mother.”
“So did I.”
Rick’s voice rose.
“I opened every morning. I closed every night. I covered shifts. I dealt with vendors while you slept in a hospital chair.”
Walter said nothing.
Those things were true.
Rick continued.
“You think I didn’t deserve anything extra?”
“Extra wages are called wages.”
Rick laughed.
“You never paid me what I was worth.”
“Then you ask.”
“I did.”
Walter remembered.
Rick had requested an ownership share twice.
Walter refused because he intended the diner to remain something he could leave to Mara someday.
That intention became bitterly ironic after he threw Mara out.
Rick’s resentment suddenly had history.
“You treated me like family when you needed me,” Rick said.
“Then like an employee when money came up.”
Walter absorbed it.
“That was wrong.”
Rick stopped.
He had expected denial.
Walter continued.
“It still doesn’t let you take cash.”
Rick’s face hardened again.
“I borrowed.”
“Without telling anyone.”
“I put money back.”
“Some.”
“The food truck would’ve worked if the engine hadn’t failed.”
“So you used diner money.”
“I planned to replace it.”
Walter heard Mara’s story echoed in Rick’s words.
Temporary.
Fix it later.
Nobody gets hurt if the money comes back.
The difference was what happened afterward.
Mara eventually returned every dollar she moved.
Rick used that returned money to cover his own debt and told Walter she never repaid it.
“Why did you tell me Mara kept the money?”
Rick looked away.
“Because she tried to destroy me.”
“No.”
Walter’s voice became very quiet.
“Why?”
Rick’s jaw worked.
Finally:
“Because if you knew she returned it, you would’ve forgiven her.”
Walter stared.
There it was.
Not merely money.
Position.
Rick had spent his entire life as the nephew.
Useful.
Trusted.
Never first.
June and Walter had one daughter.
Mara.
Rick believed that if Mara returned, whatever place he earned would shrink again.
So when the family cracked open, he kept it open.
Walter sat down.
“You let me lose my daughter.”
Rick’s eyes flashed.
“You chose that.”
Walter flinched.
Rick continued.
“I gave you a story. You chose to believe it.”
The cruelest statements sometimes contained truth.
Walter had.
Rick exploited him.
Walter cooperated through certainty.
That distinction would matter later.
Then Rick added:
“You think Mara came back because she loves you?”
Walter looked at him.
“She’s broke.”
“Stop.”
“She needs money.”
“Stop.”
“And the minute she gets what she wants, you’ll be alone again.”
Walter stood.
“Get out.”
Rick laughed.
“It’s my diner.”
Walter looked around the office.
“No.”
He picked up the lease.
“It’s my building.”
Then:
May you like
“And tomorrow my lawyer starts reviewing whether you’ve breached the agreement.”
Rick’s confidence finally faltered.
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