The Audit Put A Price On Every Promise Curtis Made

Ellen's final ledger fit on three pages. The records behind it filled two binders.

She set them on Nora's table and gave me a pencil.

"Check the additions yourself," she said.

The money into High Basin totaled $205,060: my $186,420 in royalties, plus the $18,640 from our household account.

Of that, $118,900 remained under the court's restrictions.

Fifteen thousand sat in the house purchase escrow. The purchase had failed after Curtis and Tessa could not establish the income they had claimed. Under the contract's review clause, the deposit could come back once the buyers signed the release.

Another $26,000 was a refundable deposit Curtis had placed with a leasing venture. Its managers had agreed to return it after he failed to complete his investment.

Tessa had received $27,000 marked consulting fees.

The remaining $18,160 had gone toward Curtis's travel and personal expenses.

I added the figures twice.

"He used the same dollars to make himself look rich in five places," I said.

"And left records in all five," Ellen said.

Nora had pursued the money claims alongside the divorce and the title case. With the title ruling entered and the tracing finished, she sent a settlement demand to both lawyers.

I wanted the full royalties returned, my share of the household money, my documented costs, and my ownership left clear. No agreement would require me to withdraw truthful statements to investigators.

"What about the neighbors?" Nora asked.

"He corrects what he said about my work. In writing."

She wrote that down too.

Curtis asked for a meeting before he agreed.

We met in Nora's office. He wore a sweater I had bought him, the collar stretched on one side.

"You made your point," he said.

"The point was mine before you took it."

His lawyer moved a page toward him.

"We are here to resolve the figures."

Curtis looked at the audit.

"I kept this family going for years. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"It counted when we divided our actual marital property," Nora said. "It didn't authorize a forged conveyance."

He turned to me.

"Were you saving this for a public hearing?"

"I was saving the papers because they were mine."

That was all I said about it.

The negotiations took another three weeks. Tessa agreed to return the $27,000 and sign away her claims under Curtis's promises. Her lawyer arranged payment from her remaining funds and an investment account. The consent judgment meant she could not simply change her mind.

Curtis supplied the missing $18,160 through his truck sale and savings. He signed the escrow release and the return request for the leasing deposit. The frozen money was disbursed under the approved agreement.

My royalties came back in full. We split the household money equally, $9,320 each. His share was applied toward costs he owed me; the balance of those costs came from his other assets.

The divorce settlement dealt separately with the house and retirement accounts. An appraisal put the house's net equity at $166,000. I used $83,000 of my recovered money to buy his share, with the deed and loan arrangements completed together.

Keeping the shop mattered more than keeping his dining room table. He took the table.

Before I signed the house agreement, I stood downstairs with a slide raised to the window. I checked the cost of moving, the cost of a new shop, and the house payment again. Then I called Nora. For once, staying was a choice I had made with all the figures in front of me.

He also sent a correction to the six neighbors who had eaten his cake. It said he had misstated my business earnings and had no basis to claim that my work lost money.

June knocked that evening.

"I should have spoken up that day," she said.

"You put your fork down. I noticed."

She asked whether I needed help carrying a new saw downstairs.

"When it comes," I said.

The operator corrected my owner accounts after reviewing the recorded order and new payment instructions. The money held during the dispute went directly to my own account. Ellen checked the first statements before I spent any of it.

I paid Miriam's final invoice and wrote Thank You on the check memo line.

She looked at it and smiled.

"Save the paid receipt," she said.

Curtis moved his last box out in April. High Basin had no rights left to sell and no business once the funds were returned. The settlement required him to close it after its final tax filings.

He paused in the empty doorway.

"You could have told me how much you knew."

"I asked you where the money went."

He looked down at his box, then carried it to his car.

That afternoon, my phone rang while I was sweeping grit from under the bench.

The prosecutor's office had filed charges over the forged release. They wanted to know when I could come in to review my statement.