Return to Gray Harbor (5 page)

Michael couldn’t sleep all night. He kept thinking of his father and replaying their argument over and over again in his head. He tossed and turned. He kept thinking about his father’s heart attack a few years before, and his stroke now. What if it was too late to patch things up? What if his father didn’t want anything to do with him?  His father was a stubborn man, but then again, so was Michael. He hadn’t come back in all this time. With so many heavy thoughts weighing on his mind, Michael finally managed to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning.

He woke up the next morning and struggled with what he would wear that day, and with facing the day in general. Michael didn’t want to look uppity, but he also wanted to show his father he had changed. Then he stopped himself. His father just had a stroke. It was doubtful he would care about Michael’s outfit. Michael finally threw on a Polo shirt, jeans, and brown Sperry Topsiders boat shoes. He combed his hair and looked in the mirror. His brown hair was perfectly in place, his blue shirt brought out the color of his eyes, and his muscular arms looked tan. He seemed strong and confident, but he was shaking on the inside. Not only was he going to see his father today, but he was also going to Malone’s Market.

Michael looked over at the other bed, where Jonah was still asleep. He walked over but before he could say or do anything, Jonah said, “Don’t even think about it, I’m getting up anyway. I have to go to the market today for work, and yes, I know those shingle guys are coming any minute.”

With that, a sleepy Jonah got out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. He shouted over his shoulder, “Hey, I’ll drive today if you want. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

Michael walked down the stairs and was glad in a way that with Jonah going in today, it would keep Michael from making a run for it, which is what he really wanted to do. As he walked down the stairs, the doorbell rang. It was a man from the hardware store. Michael let him in and they made small talk as Michael followed him outside to explain what he was looking for. The man took some measurements, scribbled down some calculations, and told Michael he’d have an estimate out to him no later than the next morning. If all was satisfactory, he could start the following Monday. They shook hands and he was on his way. After the man left, Michael stayed outside and walked around the yard.

Michael sat on a tree stump that was on the perimeter of the front yard and looked out at the street and back to the house again. This house held so many memories for him — both good and bad. But as he thought about it, the bad outweighed the good—his brother’s death and his estrangement from his father. He sat there for a long while, lost in thought.

“Hey, earth to Michael, are we going to go or what?” Jonah asked in an impatient tone.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. So what’s the rush, little brother?”

“I don’t like to be late, the guys at the counter will give me hell. That’s all.”

Michael looked at his brother with amusement. He suspected it was more likely that there was a woman of interest at the market, but he’d let it slide for now. “All right let’s go. Here, you drive,” he said as he tossed the keys up to Jonah. Jonah caught them, let out a whoop, and made a mad dash for the car. Michael trailed behind him.

Malone’s Market wasn’t far from his parents’ house, just a fifteen-minute drive. It was also just a short distance from the Gray Harbor Lighthouse and the Warren Inn. When they pulled up to a house, Michael didn’t recognize it at first.

Where were they, he wondered?

Then he realized in disbelief that this place was actually his family’s market. It reminded him a lot of McAllister's, with the wood exterior, but instead of the whitewash, it was left natural with blue accents, reminiscent of the sea, no doubt. They still had the same old signage, which could use some updating, but overall the place looked great. They got out of the car and Jonah said he had to run and get started with work, but he pointed Michael towards Annie’s direction.

Annie was the Assistant Manager at Malone’s Market, and their Dad was the General Manager and Owner. Mom helped with operations in general but was sometimes out on the floor of the market as well. Michael saw Annie, who was wearing her blue Malone’s Market t-shirt.

“Hey, Annie! Wow, this place looks so different,” Michael exclaimed, trying to show enthusiasm.

“Yeah, before Dad’s stroke he had started to implement all of these changes to the market. We’re not done yet but it certainly is looking better. With all the tourists we’re getting in Gray Harbor these days, we’re trying to keep up. But frankly, with Dad out we put a halt on all updates till he’s back …” her voice faltered and then trailed off.

“Makes sense. Do you have time to give me a tour? Then you can tell me where you want me.” He grinned at his sister. She was always good at telling people what to do, kind of like their father.

She walked him through what was now a small grocery area, which carried local produce, including blueberries — after all, it was Maine. There was another area with some basic staples like pasta sauces and canned goods, including canned anchovies, sardines, and salmon. They then walked through the fish market, which is where Jonah worked, and was once where both Jesse and Michael had worked as teenagers. The selection was huge, and a lot of it was local. Annie explained that they still bought from the local fisheries but now they did it in greater volume. The only problem was they couldn’t always sell as much as they bought. They were still figuring out a system for that. They then walked through another new area of the store, which featured specialty cheeses and an olive bar. The place needed some more work but Michael was impressed; it almost felt like Dean & Deluca in New York. But he did notice that many of the shelves had yet to be filled and that certain areas still looked like they needed organizing.

“All right, and just before the cashiers and that lovely empty space back there, are the stairs up towards office,” said Annie, as she led him to the steps.

As they walked up, Michael observed that the stairwell itself also needed considerable work. In many places, there was just sheetrock up on the walls. They walked through a narrow corridor and up a wheelchair ramp. Wheelchair ramp? Then he noticed the elevator.

“We have an elevator, Annie?”

“Well, it’s not done, but yeah, Dad was putting it in for when he and Mom are older, so they can get around a little more quickly.”

Wow, Michael thought. Putting in and maintaining an elevator was going to be expensive. And heating and cooling the market probably wasn’t cheap—It was three times the size it was when he was growing up. He was bracing himself for the inevitable — looking at the books.

“Why not put an office in that empty space downstairs instead?”

“I’m not sure what Dad had planned for that space, but that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Okay, here we are, Dad’s office,” Annie said, as she led him into a room strewn with papers.

“Oh, my GOD, Annie what happened in here?”

She chuckled and gave him a lopsided grin before saying, “It’s been a long time for you, huh? Dad is the most disorganized person under the sun. He’s a great fishmonger, but a secretary, he is not. I could never make heads or tails of his filing. I don’t know if less three weeks is going to be enough to fix this, but have at it!”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Michael asked, slightly afraid.

“Well, you may have noticed outside of the fish we are a little low on inventory, which is affecting the number of customers coming in. What usually happens is I give Dad my order and he handles the rest. But we’re behind on bills, so see if you can find our checkbook. The corkboard over there has a list of supplier information and our account information. That was my small attempt at getting things organized.”

“All right, well, I guess I’ll start sorting things out for today and tomorrow, I’ll tackle orders and bills, how does that sound, captain?”

“Sounds good, skipper, now stop wasting time and get started.” She winked at him and then left.

This was a bigger mess than he had imagined. Taking care of this office could take weeks alone.  It looked like his father had just thrown the papers up in the air and said the hell with it all. Michael started by opening the file cabinets to check them out. They were either empty or stuffed with stacks of paper with no discernible order to them. Michael found a notebook and made a list of to do's in the office itself and then he came up with a potential filing system idea: Accounts Payable organized by Month, Suppliers, Purchase orders, Inventory Information, Human Resources Files, Payroll, and many more. He was starting to feel good, now that he had a system, he knew he could start to get the place organized and frankly, it was nice to feel needed here at Malone’s.

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised but he hadn’t heard anything from his office in New York yet and it made him feel certain the end was near. He had left a message for Cindy, his assistant, but had received no response. Cindy usually called back minutes after he left a message. But he couldn’t let himself think of that and what it all meant now.

Four hours had passed before he knew it, and he felt like he had began to make somewhat of a dent. Things were now organized in neat piles on the large table against the wall at the far end of the office. He had stacks of all of the employee and human resources information pretty much settled, as well as supplier information, and of course, a few other miscellaneous items. He was so focused on the task at hand that at first, he didn’t even notice his mother come into the room.

“So, I see Annie has you knee deep in your father’s files?” Marty’s voice startled him and he looked up from the piles.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what all of it means yet, just trying to get it organized today and probably tomorrow, and then I’ll tackle it all — bills, and inventory, and whatever else you need.” He looked at her and he felt good. He felt appreciated and like he was contributing. His mother's expression seemed to relax.

“Well, you must have worked up an appetite, why don’t you follow me downstairs and I’ll fix us up something to eat,” she said and started heading for the door. Michael followed her through the long hall and down the stairs. She took him through the cheese market and waved to a beautiful young lady manning the counter.

“Margaret, good to see you, dear!”

She led Michael to the fish market and headed to the counter.

“Jonah, get the lobster I set aside out for me, ok?”

“Sure thing, Mom. Oh, and can you make me one too?” Jonah asked. “I break in thirty minutes.”

Marty replied with only a nod and a smile, as her youngest son handed her the package.

“So, what do you say Michael? Follow me out to the back?”

“To the parking lot?” asked Michael, confused.

“Well, eventually yes, but I mean out back to the storeroom first, so I can make us some sandwiches,” she said in an even tone.

Michael could tell something was weighing on her, she wore it on her face. They walked to the storage room, which had refrigerators; freezers, shelving, some counter space, and stairs that led to the basement, which Michael guessed housed more storage. It all looked really professional and high-end. His mother grabbed some rolls from one of the refrigerators and began prepping a simple lobster roll. She always had a way of making it with just a tiny bit of butter that was unlike any others he had ever had. Michael had been to tons of fancy places in New York and none of them compared, and, of course he couldn’t think of a better one in Maine, either.

Everyone else in the area seemed to go a bit overboard with mayonnaise, well, except for Shaw’s Lobster Shack, of course. Michael ventured that his mother’s “Lobsta Rolls” rivaled even theirs … they might even be better. She handed Michael a roll and then headed back to the fridge. She placed an extra roll in it for Jonah and grabbed two sodas.

“You still a fan of ginger ale?” she asked.

“Of course,” Michael responded with a smile and graciously accepted the can.

“All right.” She looked at him and sighed. “Let’s head out.”

They walked out of the storeroom and then took the back door, which deposited them on the side of building. There was small patch of grass there and a couple of large rocks overlooking the parking lot. They sat down silently and Marty began to dig in. They sat in silence for a while and enjoyed the rolls.

“So, have you figured it out yet?” Marty asked, her voice quivering a bit. When Michael looked at her face, it seemed that tears threatened her eyes.

“Figured out what, Mom?” Michael asked.

She looked at him a little surprised. “Michael, your father never told me, but I know we are in dire financial trouble. Look at the house, look at this store. I mean, it could be lovely, all of the improvements your father wanted to make ... but I think we’re in over our head.”

“Mom, I—”

“Michael, let me finish, okay?” she said with urgency.

“The night your dad had the stroke, he had been trying to make order of the office. He and I had a fight. I told him he was in over his head and that we needed help. I suggested we call you. You’ve always had a head for numbers and you work in finance, for God’s sake.  He started screaming and then throwing papers everywhere. I stormed out and when he didn’t come home that night, I just thought he slept in his office. Something he has been doing more frequently lately …”