Chapter 7: The Project Beneath the Loan
Valerie arrived with a manila envelope pressed against her ribs and no makeup on. I had never seen her at my door without her hair arranged and her expression ready for company.
“I wasn’t sure you’d let me in,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
She glanced past me toward the cleared room, where the small oak chair waited on my workbench. The loan packet sat open on the kitchen table, pages spread beside my ledger. After a moment, she stepped inside.
“I found these in Alexander’s home office,” she said, setting down the envelope. “He asked me to find a tax folder. They were mixed in with his loan papers.”
I didn’t ask why she hadn’t brought them sooner. The papers were here now. That was what mattered.
She slid out a stack of invoices and a glossy project sheet. The development address on the sheet was the same one I’d recognized in Alexander’s packet. Richard’s project, rendered in blue glass and neat green squares.
Valerie sat across from me. Her hands stayed on the envelope.
“Dad told Alexander the loan would keep the firm alive,” she said. “He said the project was a sure thing, and that working on it would bring Alexander more business.”
“Did Alexander believe him?”
“He wanted to.” She looked down. “I wanted to, too.”
I turned the first invoice toward her. It was billed to a company I didn’t recognize, with Richard’s development address beneath the name. The amount was large enough to make my throat tighten.
Valerie found the matching disbursement in the loan packet. She laid the pages side by side, aligning their corners with careful fingertips.
“Here,” she said. “This one went out three days after the loan closed.”
The payee was Richard’s project company.
I checked the next invoice. Then the next. The amounts varied, but the destination did not. Each one led back to that development, not to Alexander’s payroll account or the firm’s ordinary expenses.
“How much?” I asked.
Valerie turned to the summary page. “The largest transfer was most of the money.”
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us. Outside, a truck rattled over the street, then faded toward the corner. I stared at the figures until they stopped looking like numbers and began to look like rooms in Richard’s gleaming development.
“Your father said this was a rescue for the firm.”
“That’s what he told Alexander.” Valerie’s voice was small, but not uncertain. “He said the firm would control the funds and use them while the project was getting started.”
“Then why did the money go to Richard’s company?”
“I don’t know.”
I watched her face. She looked ashamed, but shame alone did not tell me what a person would do next.
“Did you know any of this before today?”
“No.” She held my gaze. “I knew Dad was pushing Alexander to take the loan. I knew Alexander was worried about payroll. I didn’t know where the money went.”
“Did you ask?”
Her fingers curled against the envelope. “I should have.”
It wasn’t an apology for the dinner table. It wasn’t enough to mend anything. But it was the first thing she’d said that didn’t ask me to make the hurt easier for her.
A car door shut outside.
Alexander came in without knocking, then stopped when he saw the papers on the table. His eyes moved from Valerie to me, then to the invoices.
“You brought those here?”
“I did,” Valerie said.
He let the door close behind him. The latch clicked, and none of us spoke for a beat.
I tapped the largest transfer with one finger. “Your firm needed money for payroll. This went to Richard’s company.”
Alexander pulled out a chair but didn’t sit. “The loan was supposed to cover the firm and the project.”
“Which did it cover?”
He looked at the pages. “I don’t know the exact breakdown.”
“You approved the terms.”
His jaw tightened. “Richard said the money would be available to us. He told me the project payments were temporary, that the firm would be reimbursed.”
“Did you check?”
He looked away.
“Alexander.”
“I signed off on the broad terms,” he said. “I trusted Richard to handle the disbursements. I was trying to get the firm through the gap.”
“You trusted him with my name, too.”
His eyes came back to me. For a second, I thought he might reach for an excuse. Then he glanced at Valerie, and whatever he saw there made him stop.
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
The honesty landed hard. It didn’t excuse him. It only took away the easier comfort of pretending he hadn’t understood what he was doing.
“What happens to your payroll if the firm account is short?” I asked.
He rubbed his palm over his mouth. “I’m working on it.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.” His voice roughened. “It isn’t.”
Valerie picked up one of the invoices. “Richard said the loan would save the firm. If it went to his company instead, then what was Alexander supposed to do?”
“I told you,” Alexander said. “The project was supposed to pay the firm back.”
“When?”
He didn’t answer.
A phone buzzed on the table. Alexander glanced at his own, then looked at Valerie’s. She had gone pale.
“What is it?” I asked.
She turned the screen toward us.
A message from Richard filled it:
I know you and Teresa have been comparing invoices. Bring every copy to me before you make this worse.
For a moment, the only sound was the old refrigerator humming in the next room.
May you like
Valerie’s hand began to shake. She closed it around the phone.
“He already knows,” she said.
