The Buyers Came To Count The Crop He Had Sold Twice

“Do not sign that certification,” Ruth said.

“I wasn't going to.”

“Good. Now tell me what it would certify.”

I read the draft again. It promised that we had enough seeded line and grower capacity for forty additional tons. There was a blank for my signature under the words Production Confirmed.

We had neither the line nor the capacity.

Ruth contacted the third buyer. By afternoon, she had written confirmation that no contract had been signed and no deposit paid. The buyer withdrew its request for a quote.

One door closed before anyone else walked through it.

The other two buyers wanted to visit.

“Together?” I asked.

“They asked separately,” Ruth said. “I suggested one meeting, with their lawyers on the phone. No promises from you.”

Evelyn came to Juneau for it. She was fifty-eight, Chinese American, and carried a narrow case with labeled folders instead of a purse.

I offered her coffee.

“Water, please.”

She set her cup on a folded paper towel before she set her papers down.

“Your husband called these duplicate planning drafts,” she said.

“Were they?”

“Both buyers sent bank confirmations. Drafts do not usually collect $145,000.”

She said it without raising her voice.

North Inlet sent a purchasing manager named Owen. Harbor Table sent a woman named Beth, who arrived wearing clean rubber boots still tied together by their store tag.

I lent her scissors.

Grant arrived last, with Lena.

“This is getting expensive,” he told me.

“The meeting room is free,” I said.

He looked toward the buyers to see if anyone had smiled.

Nobody had.

I laid the three grower contracts on the table. Each named a permitted site and the number of lines that could be seeded there. Then I laid down the deployment plan.

“These are estimates,” I said. “Kelp grows in the ocean. A storm can take a line. A warm spell can change a harvest. We planned for forty wet tons, with room for some loss.”

Beth tapped her agreement.

“We were told eighty tons were secure.”

“I never confirmed eighty.”

Grant leaned back.

“She's conservative. That's useful in the tank room.”

I turned the plan around so everyone could read it.

“Conservative means I don't sell a line twice.”

Lena opened her tablet.

“Additional growers were being arranged.”

“Which ones?” Ruth asked through the speaker.

“Those talks weren't final.”

Evelyn moved one folder an inch to the left.

“Then they cannot explain an existing guarantee.”

Owen asked where his $64,000 had gone.

Grant said freight reserves. Lena said working capital. They spoke at the same time, then stopped.

“Provide the bank records,” Evelyn said.

“We can send a summary,” Grant replied.

“The bank records.”

For the first time that day, I watched his smile fail to find a place to land.

After the meeting, I took the buyers through the seed room. I showed them the spools, the light timers, and the small sample slides I used to check growth.

Beth touched the blue tag on Sandy Beach.

“Why this name?”

“I learned to float there. My father said to stop trying to stand on water.”

“Did it work?”

“Eventually.”

She looked at the tank, then at me.

“I wish we'd met you before we paid.”

I could not give her the money back that day. Saying so hurt more than Grant's jokes.

“We're getting the records,” I said.

Before they left, Owen asked to see the grower map again. I spread it across a clean lid and pointed to each set of lines.

“Could you add another site by spring?” he asked.

“Not by drawing one here. We'd need a grower, an agreement, permits, gear, and time.”

“Grant said the nursery could scale.”

“Seed can multiply. A safe place to grow it doesn't multiply with it.”

He folded his copy along its old crease.

“Put that in your written statement.”

I did. I also attached the dated messages in which I had told Grant we were already at our planned limit. They had been sent before either advance arrived.

That night, one grower called. Grant had warned him that I was holding up payroll because I wanted a better divorce deal.

I read him the amount of his unpaid invoice: $18,600.

“I have it on the proposed release list,” I said. “Ruth is arranging a process everyone can review.”

“I need more than a proposed list, Marisol.”

“I know.”

I stood by Auke Lake after the call, listening to the bubbles. Being right had not yet paid anyone.

Ruth filed for temporary orders in our divorce case the next morning. She asked the court to preserve the business records and let ordinary bills be paid while the disputed money stayed put.

Grant responded with an emergency request of his own.

He wanted all nursery operations stopped, claiming I might destroy evidence or spend the assets.

Attached was a sworn statement that I had approved both crop commitments.

At the bottom was a copy of my signature.