The Booking Ledger Reached The Hands Of Her Customers

The deposits totaled $18,200. Tess's crew had been the first due to arrive. Two others had reserved dates later that fall and winter.

Eunhee had begun taking their money before she changed the lock.

The earliest booking was dated the morning of Min's funeral. I remembered her asking me to bring a warmer pair of shoes. While I had thought we were helping each other through the day, she had already promised away my work space.

I read the date until the numbers lost their shapes.

"She was planning it already," I said.

Ruth closed her pen. "The records show when she took the money. They don't tell us everything she was thinking."

I was grateful for that limit. I had enough facts to carry.

Mara notified Eunhee's lawyer that the other bookings had to be addressed. With his client now required to disclose them, he sent the affected customers copies of the court's restriction and offered to discuss refunds.

I sent no one Taesuk's private letter or the old loan details. I wanted the false story stopped. I did not need the harbor passing around a dead man's bank balance.

Tess called that evening.

"The new lodging is set for the full six weeks," she said. "Total comes to $18,720, including those first three nights."

Her original booking had been $16,800. The difference was $1,920. On top of that, Eunhee still held her $8,400 deposit.

"I'm asking for both," Tess said. "I've got every bill."

"She says she spent some on cots."

"I didn't order cots. I ordered rooms."

The other two customers canceled their bookings and demanded their deposits back. Their dates were far enough away that they found other beds at the same price. They asked for no extra payment.

All three refund claims were later set for a joint hearing with mine. The same room, the same loft, and the same promise sat at the center of each one.

Meanwhile, the harbor superintendent sent Jonas a letter clearing him of Eunhee's complaint. His log matched my statement and the court record. There was no evidence that he had used a city key or entered the building.

He brought the letter upstairs folded in quarters.

The superintendent had also told him he was right to refuse an order involving a private lock. He had kept his work separate from Eunhee's business, just as he was supposed to do. His hours and duties stayed the same.

"Want a copy?" he asked.

"For my folder."

He looked at its thick red tie.

"Getting to be a large net."

"Mostly holes people keep adding."

For the first time since Min died, I laughed without feeling the sound catch.

The same week, a building official inspected the loft after the lodging question reached his office. He checked the exits, work benches, sink, and wiring records.

"Fine as the work space it's approved to be," he said. "Nobody approved this floor for sleeping guests."

He sent Eunhee a written notice that she could not offer it as crew lodging without the required approvals. My work could go on.

At the next short court hearing, Mara brought the threats sent to my customers. The judge told Eunhee she had no right to hold their gear for a debt claimed against me. He ordered her to stop contacting them about my tenancy or blocking their collections.

She listened without looking up.

Her lawyer said the parties were discussing a settlement. Outside, he gave Mara a proposal.

Eunhee would drop the maintenance claim if I dropped my losses. The lease would stand, but I would sign a statement saying the dispute had been a family misunderstanding.

"What do you think?" Mara asked me in her office.

"I understood the first lock. She understood the receipts. The crew understood the booking."

"Then you want to decline."

"Yes. I won't sign that word."

Mara put the proposal aside.

"The hearing will cost more time. There are no promises about every dollar."

"I know. I still need the record to be true."

I went back to the loft and finished the purse seine. The crew chief spread a section on the clean floor while I showed him the repair. He touched the three red turns on the edge rope.

"Same mark as always," he said.

"Same hands."

He paid the $740 invoice before carrying the net downstairs. I put the money in my account. It was work money, earned in a place I had paid for, and I let myself enjoy it.

That night, I wrote a fresh list of missing things. Nothing remained missing except Min. His cap was dry. The cedar box was safe. New gauges were on order.

I put the list away.

Mara called just after eight.

"The final hearing is set," she said. "Ruth has been called to testify, and Eunhee has signed her statement about the lease."

Then her voice changed.

"You should come read it."