Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [167]
“But they’ve been paying people.”
“Exactly,” Ruth says. “It’s early yet, and new investment money is coming in. So I’m deep into the second box, and I see that they have planned at least two more layers of investors—essentially doubling the number of investors. Although nothing in the documents explicitly shows it, if you extend the restaurant profit projections beyond the two years, and then compare that with what will be required to meet projected payouts, the math only works as long as they continually expand the pool of new investors. You can only maintain that kind of strategy for so long before it all comes crashing down. You remember Bernie Madoff? This has the earmarks of a classic Ponzi scheme.”
My cell phone rings. It’s Jerry.
“Jesus, Mira, what do you mean rip up the documents? The closing is tomorrow!”
“Listen, Jerry. Ruth thinks she found something.”
“Well, she better have, and it better be big. You want AEL to sue you for backing out at the last minute?”
I hand Ruth the phone.
While she is filling Jerry in, I put the kids down for a nap.
Ruth spends the next hour on the phone, first with Jerry, then with Avi Steiner. By the time she hangs up, Jerry’s secretary is booking her on a flight to New York first thing in the morning to go over things in person. I follow her around the apartment, watching as she pulls a navy blue suit from a plastic dry cleaning bag and inspects the heels of a pair of brown Jimmy Choo pumps. “Hopefully, I’ll be home tomorrow night,” Ruth says. “You’ll watch Carlos?”
“Of course. You’re the one doing me the favor, remember?”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t know, it feels like the other way around,” Ruth says, rummaging in the back of her closet. “Aha! There it is!” she says, her voice muffled. She emerges holding a large, tattered box.
“I didn’t think I’d be using this any time soon,” she says, throwing off the lid and pawing through inches of tissue paper. She pulls out a beautiful briefcase. “It’s vintage Hartmann,” she says, stroking the glossy leather. “It belonged to my father.” Ruth has never mentioned her father, but I can tell by the wistful look in her eyes that she adored him.
“I know I originally planned on taking a year off, but I’m thinking about going back to work part-time. I think it might make me a better mother. Does that sound crazy?” she asks, opening her suitcase. Even though she’d spent most of the last thirty-six hours hunched over financial documents, she looks bright eyed and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
“Not one bit,” I tell her.
Enid answers my call on the first ring.
“Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind?” she asks.
I hesitate. The eagerness in her voice is nearly overwhelming. “I have, but not about the restaurant. I’d like to stay on—writing for the Food section, if you’ll still have me. I’ve decided to stay in Pittsburgh.”
“I’ll take that as your opening offer. I accept.”
“Enid, I’m not ready on the restaurant. I don’t know when I will be.”
“Just promise me you’ll at least think about it.”
“I will, but—”
“That’s good enough for me. I don’t want to push you, but I’m here, Mira, when you’re ready.”
“If I’m ready,” I add.
“Okay, I get it. If.”
chapter 34
Ruth returned from New York having managed to convince Jerry and Avi that what