Maren Read Her Own Instructions Into The Sworn Record

Maren's statement was four pages long.

She described me as confused, angry, and eager to hide mistakes. She said Damon had stepped in to protect the company.

The last page held her signature beneath a statement that her words were true.

I wanted to drive to the place where she and Damon were staying. I wanted to ask her how my name felt in her mouth.

Instead, I drove to Naomi's office.

"I need something useful to do," I said.

She pushed a yellow pad across the desk.

"Beside each claim, write the record that answers it. If there isn't one, write that, too."

I worked for three hours.

For the canceled orders, I listed the signed certificates. For the claim that I refused to help collect payment, I listed my calls to Celia. For the claim about destroying folders, I attached Damon's message telling me to leave them outside for disposal.

Beside the claim that I approved the bank change, I wrote: I did not. Ask for the messages around the form.

Naomi had already requested them.

By the time depositions began, the company's email export had arrived through discovery. Ezra found the attached authorization form in a message from Maren to Damon.

The earlier messages were still beneath it.

We sat around a long table while a court reporter set up her machine. Maren had her own lawyer now. Damon sat at the far end with his.

I kept my hands in my lap.

Celia went first. She explained the payment process and her written objection to the new account name.

"Did Mrs. Santiago ever ask you to skip a check?" Naomi asked.

"No."

"Did Mr. Reddick?"

"Yes. He said he was in a rush and his wife couldn't handle money questions."

She gave the date, then checked her notes before giving the time.

"Why did you write that down?"

"Because being in a rush is not a bank detail."

Her voice had no heat in it. I loved her for that.

Owen came next. He confirmed the accepted goods and his signature. He also confirmed that Damon had attended his father's funeral while Owen stood beside the church door.

Damon studied the table.

Then Maren took the oath.

She said I had agreed to the routing change because I wanted Damon to carry the business bills.

"Where was that conversation?" Naomi asked.

"In the shop office."

"Who else heard it?"

"Just us."

Naomi gave her the email chain.

The first message was from Maren. She read it aloud when asked.

"Celia wants confirmation from Isabel. She hasn't signed the separate authorization. What do you want me to do?"

The reply came from Damon.

"Use her signature from the jacket approval. Keep her on the machine side until the move is done. I'll handle their supervisor."

The next reply was Maren's.

"Done. Form attached."

The room went very still.

Naomi did not raise her voice.

"Had Mrs. Santiago given you permission to place her signature on that form?"

Maren looked at her lawyer. They asked for a break.

I walked to a window facing a narrow strip of parking lot. A woman below struggled to close an umbrella. I watched until she got into her car.

I needed one ordinary thing to work.

When we returned, Maren's lawyer said she needed to correct her earlier statement.

"No," Maren said at last. "Isabel did not give me permission."

"Did she tell you to destroy the certificates?"

"No."

The court reporter's fingers kept moving.

Maren admitted she had entered the credits on the six invoices. Damon had told her they needed a clean break before I started asking for money.

"A clean break from what?" Naomi asked.

Maren did not answer until the question was repeated.

"From Isabel."

I had heard enough to stop wondering whether I had misunderstood my marriage.

Maren asked for water. Someone passed her a paper cup. I thought about the afternoons when I had brought her coffee while she worked on our books. I had trusted the numbers she printed because I trusted the person holding them. That trust had cost me. Her sworn correction belonged in the record beside that cost.

Afterward, Damon approached me by the elevator.

"She's putting everything on me," he said.

"Those were your words in the email."

"You know how I talk."

"I do."

For once, he had nothing gentle ready.

Naomi sent the transcript and records to the court. With my agreement, she also provided the evidence to investigators reviewing the diverted payments and false documents. She warned me that any criminal case would follow its own clock.

Three days later, a letter arrived asking us to preserve the original certificates for that investigation.

Tucked behind it in Naomi's delivery packet was Damon's settlement offer, with the used machine listed as property he wanted returned.