Chapter 8 - The Night the Café Went Dark
The power failed at eleven fifty-two on a Thursday night.
I was cleaning the grinder.
The lights flickered.
Then went out.
The refrigerator stopped humming.
The old wall clock continued ticking on its battery.
Outside, rain struck the windows.
I stood still.
The café had lost power before.
But something about this outage felt wrong.
The neighboring stores were still illuminated.
---
Chelsea appeared from the office.
"What's happening?"
"I don't know."
She looked toward the street.
"Mom said the electrician was coming."
I turned.
"What electrician?"
Chelsea hesitated.
Then looked away.
My stomach tightened.
---
A man entered through the rear service door.
He wore a dark jacket and carried a flashlight.
"Miss Hayes?"
I stepped backward.
"Who are you?"
"Maintenance."
"Who sent you?"
"Larkspur."
I looked toward Chelsea.
Her face had gone pale.
I took out my phone and contacted the building's designated emergency service number.
The man moved closer.
"Put that away."
I stepped behind the counter.
"No."
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then the front door opened.
Gabriel entered.
His driver stood outside.
The man near the service door stopped.
Gabriel looked at him.
"Can I help you?"
The stranger hesitated.
Then turned and left through the rear exit.
---
Gabriel didn't pursue him.
He looked at me.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Good."
He glanced toward the dark ceiling.
"Do you have a flashlight?"
I nodded.
"Under the register."
I retrieved it.
Then called the utility company and confirmed the outage had not been reported as part of a neighborhood failure.
Rebecca was informed.
The suspicious visitor and electrical issue were documented for appropriate investigation.
---
Chelsea stood near the office door.
She looked sick.
I turned toward her.
"What did you know?"
Her eyes filled.
"Mom said the electrician was supposed to disconnect the old wiring."
"At midnight?"
She swallowed.
"She said the building needed emergency work before the sale."
I stared.
"Did she know I was here?"
Chelsea began crying.
"I don't know."
For the first time, I wasn't sure whether my stepsister was merely selfish or had become frightened by something her mother no longer controlled.
---
The next morning, a licensed electrician inspected the system.
The evidence suggested that someone had interfered with the service connection.
The circumstances were reported and preserved.
The incident strengthened Rebecca's concerns that pressure tactics were being used during the ownership dispute.
---
That afternoon, Chelsea came upstairs.
She stood outside my door.
"Quinn?"
I looked up.
"What?"
She was crying.
Real tears.
Not the delicate performance she used around wealthy men.
"I'm scared."
I studied her.
"Of what?"
"Mom."
The word surprised me.
Chelsea sat on the edge of my bed.
"She borrowed money from Preston Vale. A lot. She promised him the building."
I felt cold.
"How much?"
Chelsea shook her head.
"I don't know everything."
She looked down.
"But I heard him say if the sale doesn't go through, Mom will lose more than the café."
I stared.
For years, Maureen had treated the building like an endless source of money.
Now I understood something else.
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She might have promised away property she never legally owned.
And the people expecting payment weren't patient.
