Eighteen Buyers Watched Roscoe Present His Bill For Family Help

I put chairs in the loading bay and covered the mixer before anyone arrived.

On the wall, I taped three sheets: my existing orders, my remaining capacity, and Beth's deposit report with private bank details removed.

June stood by the door, checking names. Nobody had to guess why their neighbor was there.

Roscoe arrived carrying a folded bill. His lawyer came too. Maren stood beside my desk.

"Before we start," Roscoe said, "there's money owed to me."

He opened the bill with both hands.

It listed $9,000 for family support and business guidance. Beneath that was my stay at his house, priced at $125 a night.

"We never agreed to rent," I said. "You accepted $300 for heat."

"You can't expect everything free."

"What dates did you give me business guidance?"

"Over the years."

"Where's the agreement?"

He tapped the bill.

"That's my record."

Maren asked his lawyer whether this was being offered as a formal claim. The two of them spoke quietly near the door. Then the lawyer said it was a proposal for discussion, which I was free to reject.

"I reject it," I said.

June pulled a chair toward the table.

"Now can we talk about the money we actually paid?"

Roscoe folded the bill smaller.

I explained the numbers without calling him names. My own eight tons were already sold. I could produce eight more before the pickup dates. His contracts promised twenty-four.

"I didn't sign those," I said. "I can't turn them into honest promises by adding my name now."

A man in a red raincoat stood.

"So we're punished because you and Roscoe can't get along?"

I picked up a forty-pound pail and set it on the scale.

"This is one unit. A full day has a fixed number of safe batches. My cold room has a fixed number of spaces. Tell me which of those gets larger if I forgive him."

The man sat down.

June passed out a sheet she and I had prepared.

All eighteen buyers could cancel their Roscoe contracts and demand full refunds. That claim remained against his company and, under the settlement being discussed, him personally. Separately, I could offer each one about a third of the original quantity under a new contract.

We had rounded down to whole pails. Any pails left after that would be offered in order of the original contract dates. The rule was printed where everyone could check it.

The price stayed $60 for a forty-pound pail.

"No new deposits until the old refunds clear," I said. "I can hold these offers for ten days."

June had called two other dealers about the remaining sixteen tons. They had sent written offers for whole fish and a different bagged blend. Each buyer would choose and book directly.

"It won't all be Antonella's mix," she said. "It will be bait, at prices you can read before signing."

The raincoat man studied his sheet.

"Why does her regular list get filled first?"

June pointed at my dated receipts.

"Because she promised those people something she could make. That's what we're asking everyone to do."

Eli stood near the wash sink.

"I made the cover sheet using her name without checking," he said. "I've sent every buyer a signed correction. Dad signed the contracts. She didn't approve them."

Roscoe made a sharp sound in his throat.

Eli kept his eyes on the buyers.

"You deserved to hear it from me."

For once, no one filled the room with a laugh.

The meeting took two hours. People argued over pail counts, pickup times, and the other dealers' delivery charges. Those were useful arguments. We could write down the answers.

All eighteen asked to cancel Roscoe's contracts. They signed requests for refunds. All eighteen also chose the smaller orders I could safely fill, subject to getting their money back first.

When the last chair was stacked, Roscoe stayed by the door.

"You turned my own boy against me."

"He heard a question and answered it."

"Don't come to me when a pump breaks."

I pointed to the number for a repair service taped beside my phone.

"I've already booked the spring check."

He left without another word.

I uncovered the mixer and made a small test. This ridge bent just when it should. I showed June through the open top of the pail.

She nodded, then checked her phone.

Maren's message came through at the same moment.

Roscoe had found a buyer for his truck. The offer would expire Monday, and the refund settlement needed his signature by noon.