CHAPTER forty-eight
My heart was pounding and I realized I was holding my breath. I’m sure if someone had taken my picture at that moment they could have placed it in the dictionary as an illustration beside the word dumbfounded.
Jay’s voice brought me back and I jumped at the sound of it. "Kate."
I hastily replaced the picture. "Sorry," I apologized. "I was just admiring all of your beautiful things, Mrs. Weinstein." I sat primly on the sofa beside Jay and folded my hands in my lap.
"So tell me," Sadie started. "Are you sure you’re not with that Mr. Ed McMahon from the Johnny Carson show? I’ve seen pictures on the television of the nice people they send around to tell people they’ve won the jackpot."
I looked at Jay with a question mark on my face.
"Publisher’s Clearing House," he told me. "Mrs. Weinstein thinks we’re here to tell her she won the jackpot because you told her about a cheque she was supposed to have received."
"Oh," I said stupidly and looked at Sadie who smiled at me over the rim of her teacup. "No. But if you’re the same Sadie Weinstein that our company cut a cheque for the other day, I’d say you’ve won more than the jackpot. You really don’t remember receiving a package by courier about two weeks ago?"
"No," she said. "I don’t remember ever receiving anything by courier."
We were obviously going nowhere on this so I changed tactics. "Did your husband own Weinstein Textiles?" I received a sharp jab in my side from Jay for that one, but I pushed on. "Was your husband Robert Weinstein?"
Sadie paused for a few moments and then replied softly, "Yes. But what has that got to do with a cheque?"
"I’m not sure Mrs. Weinstein," I told her honestly. "Can you tell me what happened to your husband’s company?"
"It went bankrupt. We went bankrupt," she stated flatly. "At Thanksgiving 1975."
Even though the light was low in the room I could see her eyes brimming with tears.
"What happened?" I questioned her.
She dug in the pocket of her housedress for a hankie and dabbed at her eyes. "Somebody was stealing money from the company and by the time Robert discovered it, it was too late. There was no cash left to pay the bills. Or pay the employees."
I looked at Jay who was staring at Sadie and silently willed him to look at me. When he finally turned his head to look at me I whispered, "How far do we want to take this?"
He shrugged and hung his head and I pushed on. For him.
"Did they ever discover who was stealing the money?" I asked.
"My husband knew," she said sadly.
"Did the police catch the person?"
"The police were never told."
"Why?" Jay asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and pondered the question. When she finally answered, I had to strain to hear her say, "Pride. My husband was too proud."
"Too proud to admit someone stole from him?" I asked.
She nodded slowly. "And he still lost the company. He tried to make a recovery but within two weeks the banks foreclosed."
And where was his pride then, I wondered silently. Jay’s hand slipped into mine and I gave it a squeeze.
I took a deep breath and pushed on because as painful as this was for Sadie, I needed answers. Pride is a wonderful thing to wear on your chest when you’re facing adversity and there are lights at the end of the tunnel, like being a scholarship student because your mother didn’t have any money. I needed answers for Jay because I didn’t want to see his pride lead him down the same road that took Robert Weinstein’s business and ultimately, his life.
"Do you know who stole the money?" I asked Sadie.
"Robert never told me," she said as she shook her head. "But I wasn’t stupid then, and I’m not stupid now," she said defiantly. "He never told me, but I know."
Jay and I waited expectantly for her to tell us but she wasn’t forthcoming. So, I tried another avenue.
"Do you remember Mr. Christopher Oakes and Mr. Larry Everly who worked for your husband back then?"
Sadie sat up straighter in her chair at my question and I could see her shoulders stiffen. When she didn’t answer me I knew she remembered them. I wished I had brought pictures of them to show her for confirmation but like Sadie, I wasn’t stupid. I knew that the two men by the names of Oakes and Everly that I work with were the same two who had worked at Weinstein’s in the seventies. Her reaction to their names was unexpected and I needed to know why.
"Mrs. Weinstein, please," I pleaded. "Do you remember Mr. Oakes and Mr. Everly?"
She stood up and grabbed our teacups from the coffee table and Jay jumped up to help her. I knew this was a dismissal and I also knew I wasn’t leaving until I had the answers so I tugged anxiously on the waistband of Jay’s jeans. He ignored me. Sadie smiled weakly at Jay bent over the teacart and she caressed his cheek.
"Such a nice young man. So handsome," she said. "Your mother? She’s still with us?"
Jay nodded mutely.
"She must be so proud. Sons are special to their mothers, you know," she told Jay. "Come. I’ll show you a picture of my son. My Robert. We named him for his father. The most beautiful boy," she said as she led Jay over to the baby grand in the corner. "He comes to see his mother every week. He pays my bills even though he doesn’t have much money of his own." She handed Jay the picture of the man we knew as Philip Winston and I watched helplessly.
Jay held the picture in both hands and I saw a look of absolute shock quickly pass over his face.
"Yes," he said as he passed it back to Sadie. "Very nice. Robert, you said?"
Sadie gave the picture a light kiss before she reverently laid it back on the glossy piano top.
"Robert. For his father."
I quickly crossed the room and put my hand in Jay’s. "What does Robert do Mrs. Weinstein?"
"Oh, something or other in downtown Toronto. He’s an accountant. He’s such a hard worker. Such a good boy to his mother." She touched the frame of the picture and chose another one beside it and held it out to us. I took it from her hand and Philip Winston at about age ten stared back at us.
"That was his school picture the year his father died. Robert Jr. had such a hard time after it happened and I wondered if he’d ever be the same," she said through tears. She took the picture back from me and held it against her chest.
"He found him," she whispered. "Robert found his father. After school." Sadie was weeping openly now and my throat tightened. "I’d gone out to do some shopping. Robert wanted me out of the house because he said he was meeting someone. I never saw him alive again. Young Robert found him dead. He didn’t speak a word until after Christmas that year. I thought I’d lost both of them," she sobbed.
I felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable and had no words of comfort. Jay on the other hand, stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders.
Sadie sniffed into the Kleenex Jay offered her and wiped her eyes. "After almost thirty years, I still cry every time I think about it." She straightened her dress and patted Jay’s arm again. "About the cheque and the money, I don’t know. Maybe Robert saw it in the mail. I’ll phone him later and ask him." She pulled my card out of her pocket and waved it at me. "I’ll tell him you were here asking and that he should call you. All right?"
I had led myself down this garden path and found myself stuck in an old English-style maze. I didn’t know my way out of it but what I did know for certain was that I didn’t want Philip, excuse me Robert, knowing we had been here. I tried to snatch my card back from Sadie but she had already tucked it back in her pocket.