The Account Review Found Customer Money Paying The Building Bills

Saskia did not receive a password or free access to Gideon's bank. His lawyer supplied statements for the agreed period, with unrelated account numbers covered.

Her accountant reviewed them on Friday. Mara and I joined by video from my new workroom.

I had set the phone on an empty sponge crate. Behind it, the press dripped into a clean catch pan.

"Twelve payments," the accountant said. "Twelve matching bank credits. Total, $18,600."

She showed a chart. Each row had a customer name, receipt number, date, and bank entry.

Ruth's $2,400 check had cleared the day after Gideon accepted it. Three days later, he had paid an overdue property bill from the same account.

Other withdrawals went toward a mortgage payment, dock repairs, and old service invoices.

"Any transfer to Langley Sponge Works?" Mara asked.

"None shown. No refunds either."

The woman from Tiverton had called me that morning. Her $900 had come from money saved for new shelves. She had already cleared space for a sponge display.

I had almost told her I would make the order anyway. Then I had looked at my stock bill and stopped. Giving away work could hide the loss for a week. It would not put her money back or tell her what had happened.

Gideon leaned toward his camera.

"Money moves around. Those bills kept the shop open."

"My rent paid for my use of the shop," I said. "These people paid for sponges."

"Which you could have supplied after closing."

"With whose stock? At whose wage?"

He sat back.

The accountant also found his internal list of those payments. It called them transition deposits. Beside Ruth's name, Gideon had written Fulfill Through Heath.

There was no amount set aside to pay me.

I looked at that line for longer than I needed to.

Gideon had never asked what my hands were worth. He had assumed they would keep moving if he left work in front of them.

Saskia broke the silence.

"My lawyer has reviewed the sale papers. I have grounds to refuse this closing. I can also make a revised offer for the property alone."

"Then make it," Gideon said.

"That depends on a clean account of what you're selling and a written plan for the people whose money you took."

He looked at his lawyer.

"This isn't her concern."

"You listed the orders as part of what I was buying," Saskia said. "You made it my concern."

After the call, I rinsed a small lot by hand. My machine could handle it, but the quiet work helped me think.

One sponge held a blue fiber deep inside. I turned it, pressed water through it, and found the loose end.

I didn't tear the sponge apart to get the thread. I pulled from the right place.

Mara called at four.

"Here is our company claim," she said. "$2,800 for the move. Legal fees and filing costs capped at $3,200 under our fee agreement. Return of your $3,500 security deposit when you surrender the old space. Total, $9,500."

"And the customers?"

"Their $18,600 must go directly to them under terms they approve. We cannot release their claims for them."

"I don't want it in my account."

"Neither do I."

Saskia's revised offer arrived that evening. It reduced the price by $42,000, leaving $573,000 for the building and dock without my business.

She would also require $28,100 of Gideon's sale proceeds to be held for the customer refunds and our company settlement.

It was not an extra payment from her. It would come out of what he received.

Mara explained the hold to me. The closing agent would keep that part of the money apart and pay it only under signed instructions. Gideon could not promise refunds at the table, take his full sale check, and ask everyone to wait another month.

His lawyer's draft closing sheet showed there would be enough after the mortgage and other required payments. Gideon would still leave with money. Just much less than he had planned.

I phoned Ruth to explain the proposal.

"Do we have to buy from her now?" she asked.

"No. She won't own my business. You can take your refund and go anywhere."

"I'd rather buy from a man who tells me when he hasn't got my money."

I wrote her words on the back of an envelope. Then I put it away where Gideon's papers had no place.

That night, he called me himself.

"I helped you when your shipment failed," he said.

"You let me pay rent eight days late. I paid the fee."

"People used to remember kindness."

"I remembered it. I didn't sell your building because of it."

He was quiet for a long time.

"I'll send something reasonable," he said.

At nine, Mara forwarded his proposed release.

It offered my company $5,000. In return, I would accept responsibility for all outstanding customer deposits.