“Yes, they did… on the first mortgage.”
“He re-mortgaged the house?” I’m shocked.
“It’s the only way he could raise the extra funds, and the payment holiday doesn’t apply to that loan. And he still has to pay rates, insurance, utilities, groceries… One of our ride-on mowers blew up, and we don’t have the cash for repairs. We’re late paying invoices, and a couple of our suppliers are demanding money. I didn’t know all this until Dad went into hospital. Mark’s useless at the business side of things and has let it all slide.” Her voice is bitter—she’s torn between loyalty to her brother and absolute fury at him. “It’s all such a mess,” she confides.
I can already see the problem—no capital buffer, no debt restructuring, no forward forecasting. The bank has happily lent them money with the house as home equity top-up, but all that’s done is threaten the family’s stability now they can’t meet the payments. The compounding interest is only going to add to their problems, especially from the loan sharks. I doubt she’s even thought about that.
“I’m so sorry.” I lean forward to catch her eye. “You should have come to me sooner.”
She attempts a smile. “I appreciate that, but I’m not just going to knock on your door and tell you all my problems.”
“Well, I’d hope you would do that, considering our history, but that’s not what I meant. I mean in a financial and business sense. Forty-five thousand isn’t that much. I’m sure we can work something out.”
Her eyes widen. “It isn’t that much?” She glares at me. “It’s almost what Mark earns in a year.”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Shit. I didn’t think. I’ve probably got forty-five thousand in my pocket.
“It might be a drop in the Pacific for someone like you,” she says, “but to most normal people it’s a huge amount of money.”
I clear my throat. “I apologize. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just meant that I’ll happily bail you all out until Joe’s fit to work again.”
Her face falls even more, and her spine stiffens. Oh fuck, could I screw this up any more than I already am?
“I don’t need you to point out the vast gulf between our financial situations,” she snaps. “That is very clear to me.”
Fuck. “I didn’t mean—”
“And I don’t need your pity or charity.”
“I know that. That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it? Throwing money at me to ‘bail me out’? Do you know how patronizing that sounds?”
Irritation flares inside me. “I was trying to help.”
“By insulting me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, it just happens by accident, doesn’t it? You haven’t changed, Kingi. You’ve always gone through life the same way you go through the bush—hacking your way through and expecting everyone else to get out of the way, and if they get caught by your scythe, well, it’s their own fault.”
That hurts, because it’s true. I’ve been told repeatedly through the years by family and friends that I speak without thinking.
“I know I can put my foot in it,” I say as carefully as I can. “But I do mean well. You don’t have the financial experience and training that I do, and I can help.”
“No,” she says, “I’m just stupid old Chessie, who hasn’t even been to university.”
I bristle. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“But that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? I know what your family thinks of mine.”
“What?” I stare at her, startled.
“‘Really? You can do better than that, boy…’” She adds air quotes to it and gives me a mocking look. Oh holy shit. The day I kissed her, she must have lingered and overheard what my father said. That’s why she’s so angry now. She’s aware that the gulf between us is social, as well as financial, and that my father considered her family inferior to his own.
Horror fills me at the thought that she’s known that all these years. “Fuck. Chessie. I’m so sorry.”
She lifts her chin. “You think I’m clueless, and there’s no way I could possibly sort this out myself.”