Part 3: The Numbers in the Folder

Priya met me at the print shop the next morning. We had agreed that she would review the proposed share sale and employment agreement; an independent accountant would examine the valuation. I brought the records I was entitled to access as a shareholder and employee. Priya reminded me not to take customer files or private personnel information that did not belong in our review.

The shop smelled of paper and warm metal. My father used to say each machine had its own voice. The older press near the back made a low, steady rhythm when the rollers were aligned. That morning it was silent, waiting for a new part.

Marisol, the production manager, greeted me at the door. “I heard you might be leaving.”

“I've been given a proposal. Nothing is signed.”

She looked relieved but did not ask for details. She had her own concern: the roof had leaked during the last storm, and two pallets of paper had been moved to a different room. The property manager had promised an inspection. Marisol wanted the results before scheduling the next large print run.

“Have you reported it in writing?” Priya asked.

“Yes. I sent photographs and the dates.”

“Keep those records,” I said. “You shouldn't have to rely on a hallway conversation.”

Graham appeared while we were reviewing the company's public filings. He asked why Priya was there. I told him she was advising me on the proposed agreement.

“I thought we'd keep this between us,” he said.

“We can keep personal details private. The share sale still needs independent review.”

Vivian joined us carrying a folder. She said the valuation reflected the risks of the new contract and offered to provide the accountant with the financial assumptions. I accepted. Whatever I felt about her relationship with Graham, she was entitled to explain the figures she had prepared.

The accountant's first review found three questions requiring clarification. The signed contract had been treated as though it might be canceled, but the valuation did not explain the probability assigned to that risk. Inventory figures were six months old. A loan from my grandmother's estate, which I had made to the company years earlier, was described as a gift even though the company had signed a repayment note.

I had not expected the repayment note to decide everything. I expected it to be included accurately.

Graham said he remembered the money differently. I found a copy of the note in my records and sent it to Priya. She sent it to his attorney. Within a day his accountant acknowledged the document and asked for time to update the numbers.

Marisol called that evening. The roof inspection had revealed damaged flashing around a drain. The contractor recommended repairs before the winter storms. She worried that the refinancing discussion might delay them.

I called Ms. Reed, who said the trustee had received the report and would raise it at Friday's meeting. The trust could not direct the company's daily operations, but the condition of the building was relevant to the mortgage and the proposed refinancing.

“What if they disagree about who pays?” I asked.

“Then the agreements and the facts will matter,” she said. “The roof doesn't repair itself while people argue.”

I wrote that sentence in my notebook. Under it I wrote the question I intended to ask Friday: What plan protects the people and equipment in the building while the financial questions are resolved?