My Husband Explained The Same Forty Tons Under Oath

Grant asked for coffee before he took the oath.

I watched him choose a paper cup, add cream, and smile at the court reporter. It was strange how much room an ordinary gesture could take when everyone was waiting for a hard answer.

The deposition happened in December. Dark still filled the windows at nine in the morning.

The buyers' lawyer asked the first questions. Ruth sat beside me with a yellow pad.

“Who owned Tideglass Receivables?”

“I did.”

“Did Marisol Villanueva have an interest in that company?”

“Not formally.”

“Was she an owner?”

“No.”

He glanced at me after that answer, as if I had forced him to be rude.

The lawyer placed the two contracts in front of him.

“Did you sign both?”

“Yes.”

“Did you receive both advances?”

“Tideglass received them.”

“You controlled Tideglass?”

“Yes.”

The reporter's keys clicked steadily.

Grant explained that kelp was replaceable. He had intended to obtain extra supply. Different grades could go to different buyers. This was how markets worked.

The lawyer asked him to read the lot codes aloud.

He stumbled at EB-3.

“That stands for an export batch,” he said.

My hands tightened beneath the table.

It stood for Eagle Beach, culture three.

Ruth had already supplied my code key and the old nursery logs. The lawyer opened one from two years earlier.

“Was this export stock?”

“I don't remember every code.”

“But you understood both agreements promised the first forty tons from these same grower sites?”

“I understood we'd make delivery.”

“With which additional growers?”

He named two people. One had already sent a declaration that he had declined Grant's proposal. The other held no contract with Blue Thread or Tideglass.

The lawyer put those responses beside the agreements.

Grant drank his coffee.

Then came the altered report.

He said I had signed many documents. He said we used shared files. He said I understood the broad plan.

“Did you change forty-two to eighty-four in this document?”

His lawyer leaned close. They spoke quietly. The question waited.

“I prepared a sales version,” Grant finally said.

“Did your wife sign that version?”

“Her production approval was already on file.”

“That wasn't my question.”

Grant set his cup down.

“No.”

The word was small. It still filled the room.

When Ruth's turn came, she asked about our operating account and his offer to me.

“Why did you say the business had nothing to divide?”

“There was no available cash.”

“You knew the processor owed $186,400?”

“There were obligations against it.”

“Obligations incurred through your separate company?”

“For the business.”

She showed him the car payment.

He looked toward the window.

“I needed transportation.”

At lunch, I went outside alone. Rain had turned to thin snow. Across the street, someone was sweeping wet slush away from a shop door.

I had imagined feeling grand when Grant ran out of words. Instead, I wanted a hot sandwich and a room where nobody was lying.

Ruth joined me beneath the awning.

“You did well,” she said.

“I barely spoke.”

“You brought the records.”

She asked if I needed a break before the afternoon session.

“I need to call the nursery.”

One of our employees answered on the second ring. The intake filter was clear. The light timer was working. A customer wanted to increase a seed order by six spools.

“Tell her I'll confirm after I check the culture count,” I said.

Ruth waited while I wrote it down.

On the other side of the glass, Grant was telling his lawyer how much time this process was costing him. I put my phone away and went back inside. For once, he had to wait while I finished my actual job.

Lena's deposition came the following week. I attended that one too.

She admitted she had sent separate packets because she knew the buyers expected exclusive rights. She also admitted that her $31,000 freight retainer had paid for no booked transport.

“Were you entitled to keep it if there was no shipment?” the lawyer asked.

“There were services involved.”

He asked her to identify them on her own invoice.

She could not account for the stated charge.

Afterward, both sides began talking about settlement. I was ready to talk about money, ownership, and releases. I was tired of borrowing against my savings to pay my lawyer.

Grant sent an offer through counsel.

He would give up his nursery interest if I agreed to use the escrow to cover the buyers' advances and sign a statement that all sales had been jointly approved.

“That statement would be false,” I told Ruth.

“Then it doesn't go in any agreement you sign.”

We sent back terms based on the traced funds. The buyers could pursue the $92,000 already frozen, Lena could return $31,000, and Grant could restore $22,000.

No crop would be sold twice. No false page would become true.

Two days later, a court notice arrived setting a February hearing on the disputed report and the requested business restrictions.