The Bank Packet Put A Friend Behind The Company Name

The bank packet arrived four weeks after the first hearing.

I was lifting an old tape strip from a fishing chart when Leah called. I set down my tool before I answered. Pulling too fast could take the paper's skin with the tape.

"Can you come in?" she asked.

"Is the money gone?"

"Some is still there. Come read this with me."

Celeste was already at Leah's desk when I arrived. She had lined up three pages and left a chair between them.

The first page was the bank's authority form for Tern Ledger LLC.

Della Wren had signed as its manager.

Her full name appeared beside her home address. Micah was the other person allowed to make transfers.

I knew Della's signature. I had seen it on birthday cards, soup labels, and a note tucked inside a pair of warm gloves.

Her kindness had always arrived with something useful. That was why it had been so hard to doubt her. I had not been foolish to need a friend. I had been wrong about which friend she was.

Still, Leah made me read the bank's covering letter and the date before we discussed anything else.

"These came from the bank," she said. "They aren't something Micah chose to show us."

The second page listed the company's transactions.

The $186,400 from the press had gone three places: $8,400 to our roofer, $66,000 toward rent and trips, and $112,000 into a certificate of deposit still held at the bank.

"The roof wasn't her money," I said.

"It came from this account," Celeste answered.

"She let me thank her for spending my own earnings."

Celeste slid a box of tissues within reach and kept her hands to herself.

The third page showed Della's approval for the certificate of deposit. Her initials were beside a box saying the funds were not needed for current expenses.

I remembered asking Micah for new winter tires. He had said we would have to wait.

"Does that mean we get $112,000 back?"

"It means we have a place to secure part of the claim," Leah said. "I'll seek an attachment. We still have to prove what they owe."

She had also received the company's lease records through discovery. The rented place was a small apartment in Camden. Micah and Della were listed as the occupants.

The rent was $3,000 a month for eighteen months. The other $12,000 covered trips and related bookings.

"He told me he was meeting booksellers," I said.

"We can establish the payments," Leah replied. "You don't have to decide everything else today."

But I remembered the weekends. His careful packing. His calls from outside, with wind against the phone. Della sending me home with leftovers because it was sad to cook for one.

I asked for water.

After a while, Celeste turned her worksheet toward me.

"We should credit the roof payment."

I stared at her.

"Even though she lied?"

"You received $8,400 of value. Counting it twice would make our numbers wrong. Her lie doesn't give us permission."

I read the new line.

Of the $186,400 diverted, $178,000 remained due after that credit. The publisher still held my separate $36,800.

"All right," I said. "Make it exact."

That was the first choice I made after learning Della's name. I was glad later that I could remember it without shame.

Leah sent the records to the other lawyers with the request to secure the deposit. She did not send them to our friends.

I called Tess myself.

"It wasn't your delivery signature," I said.

She made a small sound, half relief and half grief.

"Who was it?"

"Della. The bank form named her."

Tess was quiet for several seconds.

"She told me not to let you read too much into the money. She said grief had made you suspicious."

My mother had been dead three years. Della had still found a use for her.

I went home and put the gloves Della had given me in a drawer. I did not throw them into the stove. They were good gloves. I did not have to decide their future that afternoon.

I worked until the harbor lights came on. The tape lifted cleanly. Under it, a pencil note appeared in the chart's margin: shoal farther west.

Someone had noticed danger and taken the trouble to mark it.

At six, Della called.

I let the phone ring while I wrote down the time. Then I answered.

"I got the papers," she said. "We should meet before you misunderstand what those signatures mean."

"Speak to Leah."

"Avital, after everything I've done for you."

"Bring the records of that too."

I ended the call. A moment later, a message arrived from Micah: If you make her testify, you'll find out how much of our marriage was charity.