Free A Family Affair: Winter: Truth in Lies, Book 1 by Mary Campisi

was only one chair in the tiny room, a gray swivel with black plastic arms. “Sit,” he said, closing the door behind her. He kicked a box of copy paper a few feet from her and plopped down, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest.
    “What can I do you for?”
    “I guess first you can tell me what you make here.”
    “That’s easy enough. Parts for farm equipment, you know, gadgets that fit on tractors, combines, bailers and such.”
    “Oh, I see.”
    “Your dad was mighty proud of you.”
    It was a plain statement, meant as a compliment, but the mere fact that these intruders felt they had a right to an opinion concerning her father angered her. “Before my father died, he made mention of a collateral loan he’d signed for ND Manufacturing. Your name was listed on the correspondence as the contact person.”
    Jack Finnegan scratched the back of his head. If he’d noticed the direct snub, he chose to ignore it. “That’s right,” he said slowly, “I’m the contact man.”
    “Who’s the owner? I don’t have his name.”
    His thin lips pulled into a smile. “No, you don’t now, do you?”
    “Well, I’ll need his name so I can contact him.”
    “Are you planning to call the loan, Christine? Shut the place down?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “’Cause I know that’s not what Charlie wanted and he’d be damned disappointed if he thought his daughter was doing this to spite him.”
    “I have no intention of calling the loan or changing the agreement my father made.”
    “Good.” He stroked his stubbled chin. “That’s good.”
    “And that’s the reason I came here, to give my assurances that my father’s word would be honored.”
    “Appreciate it. I’ll pass the word along.”
    “Mr. Finnegan...Jack, what’s going on?”
    “Charlie bailed this place out of a rough spot. If he hadn’t come through, a lot of people would have fallen on tough times, lost their jobs, their medical insurance, probably their homes. I don’t know how much you know about this town, but Magdalena doesn’t have an extra supply of jobs.”
    “I gathered that.”
    He nodded, pushed his cap further back on his head. “But some people don’t take kindly to accepting favors from anybody, especially if it’s somebody they ain’t too keen on.”
    She forced herself to remain quiet. If she bided her time, eventually, in a roundabout, convoluted manner with hundreds of detours, Jack Finnegan would get to the crux of the matter, the truth.
    “And then you got pride,” he went on. “That has to figure in somewheres, now don’t it? So, you take pride and somebody you ain’t too keen on, and then, you add a family member buttin’ in, and well, that just plain spells disaster.”
    “Yes, it does.” Now they were getting somewhere.
    “So, what’s a body to do? The boss still needs help, still has to find a way to come up with money he ain’t got and ain’t got no way of gettin’, leastways on time.” He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his bony knees. “I’ll tell you what you do. You find a body that can get the boss to take the money, but you can’t tell him where it came from—” he paused “—well, not  exactly  where it came from.”
    She was starting to understand. “Are you saying the owner of this place doesn’t know my father put up the collateral for his business?”
    “No, ma’am, he don’t know,” Jack Finnegan said, shaking his head. “And he ain’t gonna know, not now, not ever.”
    “Just how do you plan on keeping all of this a secret?”
    He shrugged. “Same way we been keepin’ it a secret for the past thirteen months.”
    “And what way is that?”
    “A member of the family loaned it out, said it was insurance money.”
    “And does the owner believe that?”
    “Ain’t got no reason not to. The man’s desperate. When people get like that, they don’t want to go lookin’ for the truth if it’s gonna cause them a grief they can’t handle. It’s easier to just