“No! No! I can’t rest until you understand.”
Jane shrugged helplessly at Elizabeth. With a sigh, Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed. “So what’s the problem?”
“Do you remember Stanley Yerger?” her mother asked in a quavering voice.
“The accountant?” He did the finances for On-a-Stick, Inc.
“He isn’t an accountant!” her mother shrieked, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “He is a devil sent to torment us.”
Huh. Elizabeth remembered him as short and plump with saggy jowls. “What did he do?”
“He took the money! He took all the money!” Mrs. Bennet blew her nose noisily into a tissue.
This response was just vague enough to produce maximum anxiety while providing minimum information. Elizabeth took a deep breath. “What money?”
“All of it!” Her mother waved impatiently. “It’s gone!”
“He drained the reserves,” said Mary from behind Elizabeth.
Elizabeth turned as her sister joined her at their mother’s bedside. She was again wearing all brown, but today her blouse and pants were uncharacteristically rumpled.
“The reserves?” Elizabeth asked.
“On-a-Stick was setting aside money for new factory equipment. Stan skipped town with it.”
Elizabeth’s stomach lurched. Stan Yerger was a friend of John Bennet’s from college, and his firm had done the books for On-a-Stick, Inc. since its founding.
Mary’s lips were set in a thin, white line. “We found out yesterday. Charlotte Lucas came over.”
Elizabeth suddenly remembered that Stan also did the books for Lucas and Lucas. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!”
“Yeah. Walter found some accounting ‘irregularities.’ When Walter went to Stan’s office for a meeting, he was gone.” Mary grimaced. “He cleaned out Lucas and Lucas, too, and then took off for parts unknown. The police have a warrant out for him, but if he’s smart, he went to a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”
“We’re ruined!” her mother howled. “We’ll be homeless! We’ll be living in the poorhouse!”
Mary put her hands on her hips. “Get real, Mom. They don’t have poorhouses anymore.”
Their mother wailed even louder.
“Just a thought, Mary, but don’t take up counseling,” Elizabeth said.
Mary shrugged.
“It’s not that bad, Mom.” Elizabeth raised her voice to be heard over her mother’s cries. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She glared meaningfully at Mary.
“Oh! No, it’s not that bad,” Mary assured her hastily. “We’ll be able to weather this without halting construction on the fourth factory or laying off workers or selling the house. I’m almost sure. Mostly sure.”
Their mother continued to bawl. Elizabeth was beginning to remember why calming Fanny wasn’t Mary’s job.
“Mom,” Elizabeth used her most soothing voice, “why don’t you take another Xanax and try to sleep?” She gave another pill to her mother with a glass of water from the bedside table. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.” From long experience, Elizabeth knew her mother would be more willing to listen to reason and less fra
ntic after she rested.
Her mother nodded and swallowed the pill. The daughters waited at Fanny’s bedside until she fell asleep and then quietly filed out. In the kitchen, Jane put on the tea kettle.
“How bad is it really?” Elizabeth asked Mary.
Mary pressed her lips together. “It’s bad. Dad’s been using the cash reserves to capitalize the launch of Spaghetti On-a-Stick…and…well…we’ve been having development problems with it.”