The Paper He Wanted Signed Already Had Yesterday On It
Part 2 · 3 min read ·
"Why was this ready yesterday?" I asked.
Victor glanced at the date.
"Office mistake."
Behind him, the crowd had gone still. Reed stepped out from behind the curtain, his blue jacket folded over his arm.
"Let her finish talking," he said.
Victor laughed into the microphone.
"We won't spoil your evening with a staff problem."
"You already made it everybody's problem," Reed said.
I took a picture of the paper with my phone. Victor pulled it back, but I had the date, the amount, and his name at the bottom.
"I'm not signing," I said.
Tess stood beside me with her folded sign. I wanted to explain everything right there. Instead, I walked her outside.
Our car had a loose passenger window crank. I leaned across to hold it in place while Tess wound the window down.
"Did you take it?" she asked.
The words hurt. They also made sense. An adult with a microphone had told her mother she was a thief.
"No."
"Then why did we leave?"
"Because you didn't need to stand there while I argued."
She rubbed a yellow paint mark on her thumb.
"I wanted to stand there."
At home, I heated rice and beans. My phone lit up with messages. Some asked what happened. Some only said they were praying for us.
One woman asked if I could still clean her house on Tuesday, then sent another message saying she had found someone else.
I put the phone facedown.
There was $286 in my checking account. Rent was $875. My next paycheck would have covered most of the gap.
Now I did not know whether there would be one.
"We can skip the film class," Tess said.
"This isn't because of your class."
"He held up my paper."
I sat across from her.
"That was wrong of him. Your name should never have been part of it."
She nodded, but she pushed her bowl away.
At nine, Iris knocked on our apartment door. She still wore her ticket apron.
"My sister's car broke down," she said. "That's why I left. Nobody called me about money."
She put a yellow sheet on the table.
It was the second copy from the count pad. Our names were clear beneath the total: $4,200. Under them, Victor had signed RECEIVED.
I had forgotten the pad made a second copy.
Iris had not.
"I keep my copies until the deposit clears," she said. "He knows that."
"Then why blame me?"
She looked at Tess and lowered her voice.
"What did you ask him about this week?"
I told her about the ring receipt.
Iris sat down slowly.
"He told the board the old ring cost $600 to haul away."
I went to the sink because I needed something solid under my hands.
Eighteen thousand six hundred dollars had come in. Six hundred dollars had gone out, according to Victor. Both stories could not be true.
Tess touched my elbow.
"I saw the bag after you left the office."
I turned so she could see my face.
"Where?"
"Mr. Hales put it in the long gray case. The one with the broken handle."
The case held old microphone stands. It had been in his office all week.
"Are you sure?" Iris asked.
"I was waiting for tape to hang my sign. He said to go away."
I reached for my keys, then stopped.
I had a key to the building. I did not have one to Victor's office. He had changed that lock last month.
Going back alone would give him a new story to tell.
Iris called Lenora Webb, the charity's board chair. She left a message asking for an urgent meeting and said she had the signed donation receipt.
Then we photographed both sides of the yellow sheet.
For the first time that night, I could take a full breath.
There was another knock at the door.
A tall man stood outside with a canvas grocery bag. His hair was almost white, but I knew him before he spoke.
Cal Sutter. The last of the Pine Road Three.
"Reed called me from the hall," he said. "May I come in?"
He set the bag down. Inside was a blue jacket, a stack of old programs, and a flat metal film box.
"Victor told everyone I refused to come," he said. "He gave me next Saturday's date."
Then he looked at Iris's yellow receipt.
"You need to know something about that ring. It was never his to sell for himself."