His Solo Showcase Bill Explained Where The Deposits Had Gone

I read Wade's sentence until the words stopped looking like words.

Sole successor.

He had sent it in May, six weeks before changing the locks. That week, I had worked past midnight twice to finish his favorite racing sail.

The next attachment was an expense sheet. It listed the four missing deposits by customer name. Beside their combined total, Wade had written, "Launch funding, recover from final balances."

He had planned to finish their orders with money they hadn't paid yet.

I remembered asking for a second roll of thread in May. Wade had told me to make the first roll last. I had unwound a bad bobbin by hand to save what I could. His display bill included $900 for a lit panel bearing his name.

"The final balances wouldn't stretch," I told Ben.

"Let's show that," he said.

We sat at the cutting table with bills spread over clean brown paper. I moved my chalk tin away so it wouldn't stain the originals.

Ben matched each transfer into Fenwick Studio with its next use. Twelve thousand dollars had gone to a display firm for Wade's showcase and a later traveling exhibit. Another $6,600 had gone to a boat broker as a deposit on a used powerboat in Wade's name.

"A powerboat," I said.

"That's what the purchase form says."

"He doesn't even like powerboats."

Ben tapped the form.

"He liked this one enough to use customer deposits."

His report used calmer words. Transfers. Personal purchase. No evidence of customer refunds. No recorded agreement approving those uses.

He checked every shop expense too. The other $12,600 in deposits had paid $11,410 in real costs, leaving the $1,190 still in the bank. He found the rent, cloth, wages, and hardware bills to match.

"We don't call every dollar missing," he said. "We identify the dollars that are."

There was a $3,460 cloth bill still due. We also needed $7,800 in remaining materials and $6,900 in labor to complete the seven orders. That made $18,160 before rent and other costs during the remaining work.

The unpaid customer balances would come only as we reached the stages written in their contracts.

Without the diverted money, we couldn't safely reach those stages.

I asked Ben to give me that page twice. One copy went to Anika. The other went above my desk, where Wade's showcase poster had hung.

On Monday evening, all seven customers came to the loft. Celeste brought June from her mooring and made sure she caught the handrail.

"No hero leaps," she told her. "I've filled out enough forms this week."

We sat on folding chairs beside the cutting floor. I gave each customer a statement showing the full deposit already paid, the work done, the balance, and the next safe step.

"These copies agree with the bank records," I said. "If yours doesn't, tell me now."

Ruth ran her finger down her page.

"The $4,800 is all there."

"Yes."

"Even though he moved it?"

"You paid the shop. The dispute between us doesn't erase that."

Anika explained our proposed plan. Each customer could choose whether to accept an assignment of the order to my new business, with the same deposit credit and a written delivery schedule. The plan depended on funding and court approval of the windup terms.

No one had to sign that night.

Ellis raised his hand as if we were in school.

"I can wait two more weeks. I'm hauling out late anyway."

June couldn't. Her charter dates were fixed.

"Then June goes first," Ruth said.

I shook my head.

"Let's check the actual work before anyone gives up a place. Some sails need fewer hours. I won't make another promise just because it sounds kind."

We laid the schedules side by side. June's panels were already cut. Ruth needed only finishing. Ellis's sail required the longest machine time. We found a workable order without anyone losing a promised trip.

I wrote each change in front of its owner. Nobody had to trust a date they hadn't seen on paper. When Ellis asked for his own copy, I handed him the pen and let him check my figures first.

For the first time since Saturday, I could picture the floor full of useful work again.

When everyone left, Celeste stayed to stack chairs.

"You told them things they didn't want to hear," she said.

"I thought they might all walk."

"They can walk. That's why their staying means something."

Anika called while I was washing the cups.

Wade's lawyer had offered a settlement: I would get the machines and access, and Wade would keep the summer customer list and the right to collect final balances.

I dried my hands.

"He still thinks the person at the sewing machine is the small part."

"I'll send our rejection," she said.

Then she paused.

"Before I do, there's an attachment you need to see. He wants you to sign that all customer deposits were properly used."