UNCONDITIONED CHAPTER 22
Extortion and Eviction
With all the misfortune coming my way, I was leery of becoming too optimistic when a ray of hope appeared. Margaret and I finally figured out how to operate the business more efficiently and our prospects were brightening as word-of-mouth spread. We were acquiring interesting clients, most of them large non-profits, so the work was rewarding and the budgets significant. We may have been slow to master the art of finance, but we were good designers, so our enterprise gained momentum and we started earning decent salaries after the first year, though the amount was still far from what I needed to live comfortably and get myself out of debt.
I arranged for a payment plan with the IRS for the previous year’s unpaid taxes and was earning enough money to pay that and to keep current on my quarterlies. The problem with the IRS was that with the penalties tacked on, the sum I owed was exorbitantly more than the original tax bill, so I’d probably never see the end of this commitment. I was still paying off Jesse’s broken leg, but some months could send a double payment.
Dottie, the landlady, from the fancy duplex I’d rented when I first started my design business, had kept in touch with me and occasionally we’d have coffee together. She lived in Boston but had an apartment in Peterborough in one of the many buildings she owned. When we moved into the dumpy apartment, she offered to let us store our bicycle in her basement. When I could finally afford to get out of the dumpy apartment, Dotty offered me another of her apartments, this one not as upscale as the duplex, but way better than where we were. So once again, we packed up and moved.
When I retrieved our bicycle, I discovered someone had spiffed it up by putting on new tires, brake lines, and seat. There was a young couple who had taken on the job of managing all Dottie’s property and they lived in that building. I knocked on their door, “Hi, I’m Christine, one of Dottie’s tenants. Do you know who fixed up the yellow ten-speed that’s in the basement?”
“Yeah, we did. Oh my God, is it yours?”
“Yeah, Dottie let me store it down there.”
“We asked her about it, and she said to take it because it was probably left behind by a tenant.”
“Oh, she must’ve forgotten that it was mine. I’ll reimburse you for all the work you’ve done on it.”
“No, just take it. We’re sorry.”
“Are you kidding? It must’ve cost a lot to fix.”
“Don’t worry about it. One of our best friends owns the bike shop. It didn’t cost that much.”
“Wow, thanks. I appreciate that.” Things were looking up.
Shortly after that windfall, Dottie invited me out to lunch. As we sat across from each other in a booth at the local diner, she said, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I’m suing the couple who manage my apartments and I need you to testify in court that they stole your bicycle.”