Della Took An Oath And Tried To Rename The Money

Della's deposition began on a Tuesday in June.

By then, the court had approved an attachment securing the $112,000 deposit. Micah had surrendered his house key under our interim agreement. I had changed the password on my own email and opened an account he could not manage.

Small steps still made my shoulders tighten.

I sat beside Leah while a court reporter checked the spelling of Della's name. Della would not look at me.

Her lawyer told her to listen to each question and answer only what was asked.

Leah began with the bank form.

"Is that your signature?"

"Yes."

"Did you have authority to transfer money from Tern Ledger's account?"

"Yes. For expenses."

"Whose expenses?"

"The business's."

Leah put the Camden lease in front of her.

"What business took place in this one-bedroom apartment?"

Della moved her water glass an inch to the left.

"Micah needed somewhere quiet to work."

"Why were you listed as an occupant?"

"I stayed there."

"With Micah?"

"Yes."

There were more questions. Dates. Payments. Which trips she attended. At last, when Leah asked directly, Della admitted she and Micah had been in a relationship throughout the eighteen months covered by the ledger.

The court reporter's keys kept moving.

I had expected the truth to arrive with some great sound. It arrived with the faint tap of a machine.

Leah moved on.

"You sued Ms. Brenner for an $8,400 personal loan."

"I paid her roof bill."

"From your personal account?"

"From the company. I handled it."

"Here is your message saying she should not repay you. Did you send it?"

Della read it twice.

"At the time, I wanted to be kind."

"When did that gift become a loan?"

Her lawyer objected to the wording. Leah asked again, using Della's own claim.

"When did Ms. Brenner agree to the repayment terms you described?"

"I don't remember an exact date."

"Before or after you sent that message?"

"I can't say."

We took a break. I went to the restroom and ran cool water over my wrists. When I came back, Della was alone by the window.

"He said you didn't care about money," she told me.

"I cared about paying bills."

"He said you wanted him to handle it."

"Handling it wasn't permission to take it."

Her lawyer returned. Our conversation stopped there.

After the break, Leah showed Della an email produced from the company's records. It was part of a thread with Micah about the publisher's change form.

Della had written: The old instructions require her direct confirmation. The clerk may ask.

Micah had replied: I'll deal with the clerk. Use the attached page.

"When you accepted those transfers," Leah asked, "had you received direct confirmation from Avital?"

"Micah said he'd handled it."

"Did you ask Avital?"

"No."

"But you continued receiving the money?"

"Yes."

That answer mattered more than the apartment. I wrote it on my pad and drew one straight line under it.

The roof claim was withdrawn the next week. Della agreed to a dismissal that prevented her from bringing it again. She paid its filing costs herself.

Owen and Tess never had to testify about the kitchen visit, but their signed accounts stayed in Leah's file.

Meanwhile, Micah dropped his $68,000 demand after Leah asked for the canceled orders and proof of the claimed loss. He produced a list of hopes, not orders.

His lawyer called it a business decision. I let him.

I started taking conservation jobs at my kitchen table while Leah negotiated an end to the shared workshop lease. I charged $65 an hour and sent the invoices myself.

The first client paid $390 by check.

I carried it to the bank in my coat pocket, though I could have deposited it by phone. I wanted to see the teller print my receipt.

At home, I entered the payment in a simple ledger. One column showed what I billed. Another showed what arrived. I put the receipt in a folder and left the ledger open until the numbers matched.

The work did not erase the larger loss. It gave my days their shape back.

In July, the press's outside examiner finished reviewing the false assignment. Her report found that the signature image had been copied from my old condition report, including the pale scanner mark.

The press supplied the original email that had delivered the file. It had come from Micah.

He still denied forging it. He offered a settlement that would pay half the money if I signed a statement saying no one had acted dishonestly.

I read the proposed statement aloud to Celeste.

"That sentence isn't an accounting adjustment," she said.

I told Leah no.

Two months later, a court notice arrived setting our civil case for trial, with Micah Adler and Della Wren listed together as defendants.