In Too Deep
Chloe rana hand over her hair and schooled her face to look like the respectable girl she was supposed to be. When Mrs. Byrne opened the door, her face lit with a smile. “Chloe. What a surprise!”
“I made you a cross-stitch and my mom suggested I deliver it myself.”
“Come in, come in. I just put some tea on.”
Chloe followed her into the house and the smell and feel of the living room reminded Chloe of her grandmother’s house. Even though Alastair and her father were friends, something about the Byrnes always felt older. She made her way to the kitchen while Mrs. Byrne chatted about an upcoming visit to Ireland she planned to take.
When Mrs. Byrne pointed to a chair, Chloe sat and put the cross stitch on the table. This one read, “Now faith, hope, and love remain—and the greatest of these is love ~ Cor13:13.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs. Byrne said. Then she busied herself pouring tea. “How are things going at work?”
“Good. I enjoy working at the Rose. We’ve been steadily busy.”
“I’m glad. I keep trying to get Alastair to fully retire. I think it’s time to sell. I want us to enjoy our golden years.”
Sell the Rose? She hadn’t considered all of Mrs. Byrne’s talk of retirement would lead to that. “Don’t any of your kids want to run the bar?”
She shook her head. “No. They appreciate what their father built, but they have their own lives now.” She reached across and patted Chloe’s hand. “But don’t you worry. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of. If Alastair finds a buyer, they’ll need help. Someone to show them the ropes.”
Shoving panicked thoughts from her mind, Chloe said, “While I’m here, I was wondering if you might have some information about Chicago politics. You and Alastair worked on Alan Cahill’s campaign back in the day, right?”
“Oh, yes.” She waved a hand. “But that was eons ago.”
“I have a friend considering getting into politics and she asked if I would be interested in helping run her campaign. I don’t know anything about that, but I’m good with people. Do you remember who was in charge of the Cahill campaign? Or maybe some of the workers whose brains I could pick?”
“That was twenty years ago. I helped Alan because Alastair said it would be good to see one of our own in office. I mostly made coffee and phone calls.” She sipped her tea.
“You know me, Mrs. Byrne. I can talk to anyone. But the money is the part that worries me. My friend asked me because of my business degree, but I don’t understand campaign finances. It seems like it would be complicated.” She took a drink of tea, even though she didn’t want it. Not enough of a kick, but she’d be sociable.
Mrs. Byrne chuckled. “You know what they say about Chicago politics. I don’t know how much has changed over the last couple of decades. Back then, there was a lot of money changing hands.” She pursed her lips. “And not all on the up and up.”
“I don’t want to do anything illegal.”
“As you shouldn’t.” She sighed and leaned forward. “I suppose it can’t hurt to—how do the kids say—spill some tea after all these years.”
Chloe smiled. She couldn’t imagine her mother ever trying to use modern slang.
“As I said, things were different back then. Someone with money and power could pretty much buy whatever they wanted.”
Chloe sat back and couldn’t hide the surprise. “Are you saying that Mr. Cahill bought the election?”
She lifted a shoulder and tilted her head. “I’m saying that he had a vision about what he could do for the city and he needed to be in office for that. He was willing to do anything necessary.” She waved a hand again. “And here I am running off with stories and not answering the question you asked.”
“Sometimes stories are worth the detour.”
Mrs. Byrne squinted one eye. “If I remember, it was one of the Nolan boys who ran the campaign. Alan had a hand in everything. He didn’t like to let up control.”
“Still doesn’t. He’s at the Rose at least once a week to talk to Danny about the construction company.”
“That sounds like Alan. You could ask him, but of course, he won’t be talking straight like this. He’s still got some politician in him.”
“I don’t want to bother him. I thought you might know someone who was in the trenches, so to speak. Either way, it doesn’t sound like a job for me.” She sipped her tea and tried not to look antsy. She had a feeling that something about this conversation would help Ronan and Brendan.
Mrs. Byrne picked up the cross-stitch. “This really is lovely. Thank you so much for thinking of me. Would you like some more tea?”
“No. I actually should get going. I have some errands to run before work.” Work at a job she genuinely loved. And Mrs. Byrne wanted to sell? It shouldn’t bother her. She’d just told Ronan getting another job was easy. She briefly wondered what it would take to own a bar, but then pushed the thought aside.
They both rose and Mrs. Byrne walked her to the front door.
“Thanks for the stories. It was fun.”
“Kind of you to say.”
“I’m not saying it out of kindness. I truly enjoyed myself.” And she did. The fact that she had one more piece that said Alan Cahill was crooked was a bonus.