Two Town Contracts Landed On The Same Kitchen Table

I turned off the burner and asked Freya to send the contract.

"With the committee's permission," she said. "I won't forward their banking details."

"The date, equipment list, and signature pages are enough to start."

Ten minutes later, I had them.

Bottineau had bought the same rink package as Rugby. Same dimensions. Same chiller. Same promised skating hours.

Each town had paid a $7,200 advance on an $18,000 event.

There was no second fleet.

I had asked Orson about renting extra equipment once, when we first discussed expansion. He said deposits would eat our margin. We had never signed a rental agreement with another operator.

Tomas arrived while I was reading the second contract.

"I'll put this online," he said. "Just the dates. People should know."

"The committees should know first."

"He's telling people you took everything."

"Then let's give the people who paid him something they can use."

I slid a chair out with my boot.

"Make a table. Town, event date, amount paid, promised equipment. No opinions."

He sat down.

For an hour, I heard his keyboard and the refrigerator cycling. Then he turned the screen toward me.

He had added a column for the source of each fact.

"That's useful," I said.

He nodded without smiling.

Dana arranged a call with both committees and their legal advisers the next afternoon. Freya joined because she had helped them compare their site plans. I spoke only about capacity.

"Could you run Rugby until seven, then move?" one treasurer asked.

"No. We have to melt or break down the ice, drain the system, pack the floor, load it, travel, and build again. It isn't a trailer you park and open."

Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

"He said your second unit would come from storage," the Bottineau chair said.

"There is no second unit in my storage."

I hated saying it. I pictured volunteers selling raffle tickets for an evening that couldn't happen.

Orson joined late.

"This has become wildly dramatic," he said. "I had a supplier lined up."

Dana asked for the supplier's signed agreement.

"We work on trust in this industry."

Freya leaned toward her camera.

"Then give us the supplier's name."

He named an out-of-state operator. With Orson's lawyer copied, the committees asked that operator to confirm the arrangement.

The answer came before the call ended. There had been an inquiry. No equipment had been reserved. The quoted rental alone was $11,800, with transport extra.

Orson had accepted both advances after receiving that quote.

"There was room to negotiate," he said.

"Was there a second rink?" Freya asked.

He began talking about weather.

The committees ended the call by demanding a full accounting. I didn't cheer. Neither did Tomas.

That evening, Orson sent me a voice message.

"You let them corner me. After everything I've done for this company. You owe me a chance to fix it."

I saved it and sent it to Dana.

The next day, our company bookkeeper finally received the statements she had been requesting. Orson had changed the banking password in September and told her the bank was fixing a problem.

I had accepted that story too. My name was on the company, and I had let him stand between me and its books.

That part belonged to me.

The bookkeeper apologized for not calling my home number.

"He kept saying he'd told you," she said.

"Next time, tell me yourself."

"Are you asking me to change how the transfers were entered?"

"Keep what was entered. Show what the bank says beside it."

She let out a breath. I hadn't known she was holding it.

I told the bookkeeper to send her findings to both lawyers. I didn't want a private report that only confirmed what I wanted to hear.

She called at four.

"There are transfers to Orson's personal account labeled equipment reserve. Nineteen thousand, two hundred dollars."

"Was there an approved distribution?"

"I haven't found one. He described them as vendor payments in the ledger."

The two town advances were part of that money. Another $4,800 came from other winter customers.

The company had $3,080 left in its operating account.

I wrote those numbers on paper. They looked smaller than the damage they could do.

Tomas asked whether I was all right.

"I'm angry at him. I'm angry at myself for not asking sooner. Those are separate jobs."

He took the blue chalk from my coat pocket and drew a square around the $19,200 on a scrap of cardboard.

"This one first?"

"This one first."

Dana filed a request for an independent receiver to control the company while the records were checked. She attached the contracts, statements, and bookkeeper's report.

Before the hearing, a process server came to my rented yard.

Orson had filed a claim against me for $90,000.

His sworn statement said I had removed company property and destroyed its winter income.