CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SYLVIA
Sylvia pulled a chair alongside Walter’s desk in his dimly lit office and sat beside him. Flush with emotions following the match, they were sharing a burger and french fries left by the catering team. It had been incredible and inspiring to see Adele play like that. Even though Adele hadn’t won, Sylvia was so proud and awed by her friend. She deserved every ounce of respect and congratulations that she’d received. And Sylvia was proud of herself and Walter for making it happen.
“Wasn’t it marvelous, Walt, to see the club in all its glory? An event like that, packed to the brim with guests from near and far?”
He was watching her closely, a sad smile on his face. She wanted desperately for him to share in her own vision before it could evaporate.
“To see television crews filming on our property?” Sylvia continued.
It had been like a glimpse into the future of what might have been. But she could sense herself that the excitement of the day was wearing off, and an inevitable disappointment was setting in.
Walter glanced at the ledger sheets, teeming with scratchy notations, that lay on the desk before them. He gently took her hand. “I wish I had better news,” he said. “Especially after all the work everyone put into this and how folks came together to make it happen. But the reality is, evenwith all those ticket sales and the advertising money, the food and beverage sales, they just barely covered the cost of everything we had to bring in for setup—the seating, the construction for filming, the extra bars, all the extra staff. We made some profit, but not enough to change the outcome.”
Sylvia nodded. He’d been warning her all along not to get her hopes up. He’d been showing her the numbers, the money coming in and the money going out, just as he’d promised he would do, but she’d still held out hope for a miracle.
“I just wish we’d won,” she said.
“I know. But the numbers are the numbers. This televised match would have given us a big boost if we’d been able to keep the club; it would have driven memberships, absolutely, but the bank will be in possession of this place by the time that happens.”
Sylvia nodded. If only she could have done more.
“And, unfortunately, when they repossess a property as costly as this,” he continued, “they try to recoup as much loan money as possible; that’s why they’ll eventually come after our little shack too.”
“I was just starting to warm up to that little shack,” Sylvia said, trying to lighten the mood, but neither one of them could manage much of a smile. “Well, we tried,” she said. “We gave it our best shot, and that’s what I wanted to do.”
She had tried to prepare herself for this moment, for actually leaving the town she loved, the friends she thought she’d grow old with, but there was no real way to brace for this. In order to rebuild their lives, they’d need to live somewhere inexpensive, and the desert made the most sense. It was going to hurt; she was going to cry. Judith would be furious all over again, livid when she found out she’d have to change schools. But, Sylvia reminded herself, she had her family, they were safe now, and they would start over. They would come back from this.
Walter was watching her, his eyes filled with remorse, and he was about to speak, but she stopped him. “Don’t, Walter, I don’t want you to keep apologizing. You can’t keep living with regrets. We are in this together. We’re going to be all right.”
He picked up her hand and kissed it. “We’ll come in tomorrow to wrap things up and we’ll hand over the keys on Monday.”
She tried to smile. There was no way around it. The loss felt monumental now, and she was just going to have to find a way to live with it.
