The Escrow Agent Read My Name Beside The Empty Line

June put tea beside me and did not touch the papers.

"Tell me what you need," she said.

"A lawyer who reads before she talks."

She gave me the number of Dana Reed, who had helped her settle a small business dispute. I paid $2,500 for a retainer from my remaining savings. Dana met me the next morning with a yellow pad and no soft promises.

"Start with what you signed," she said.

I gave her the original Harbor Reach assignment, the sales agreement, and the escrow terms. Malcolm's company earned a stated sales fee. It did not own my molds or have the right to appoint another fabricator in my place.

"Does your husband have authority to sign for you?"

"No. We each ran our own business."

"Marriage alone doesn't answer that question. Any power of attorney? Any account mandate?"

"None."

She made me say what I knew and what I suspected. I knew my signature was false. I suspected Nora had helped place it there. Those went in separate columns.

Then Dana called the independent escrow agent, Ruth Ellis, with me beside her.

Ruth found section nine.

"A written notice of disputed payment stops release pending review," she read. "Notice may be given by the client or the named fabricator."

"Latonya Baskin," I said. "That is me."

We sent notice with the two conflicting instructions attached. Petra sent the aquarium's matching notice after her director approved it. Ruth confirmed that the remaining $72,000 would stay where it was.

My shoulders dropped for the first time since the lock refused my key.

"We still need a plan for the pieces," Dana said. "A hold on money doesn't get you into a leased building."

She sent Malcolm a demand to preserve the molds, finished work, sales records, and messages. She requested a supervised inventory and return of my personal tools. She also told him the aquarium had suspended Thursday's delivery.

At 11:06, he called me.

"You canceled a $144,000 job?"

"I stopped an unapproved installation."

"Those people don't care who mixed the resin."

"They care whether it is safe."

"I can hire another woman with a paintbrush."

I looked at the blue witness tile on Dana's desk. Three lines. A batch number. A record small enough to fit in my palm.

"Ask your lawyer to call mine," I said.

He lowered his voice.

"Tonya. Let's not turn our marriage into a bill."

"You sent the bill somewhere else."

I ended the call before he could tell me I was confused.

Petra met me that afternoon at a diner off Ritchie Highway. She brought copies she was allowed to share and kept the aquarium's originals in its records office.

"Our director wants his exhibit," she said. "He also wants to know where his money went. Both can be true."

We spread nothing near the coffee. Petra moved a sugar jar to make room for one clean folder.

"Your husband told us you preferred him to speak for you."

"I preferred to finish the work."

"I should have called the number on the first instruction."

"Call it now. Every time."

She nodded and wrote that down.

Nacre's registration listed Nora as its manager. Dana had obtained the public record; it showed a mailing address in Canton and a formation date two weeks before the first Harbor Reach transfer.

That alone proved little. The bank receipts showed more. The same account had taken both $36,000 draws.

"Did Nacre provide any exhibit work?" I asked.

"Nothing in our file. No approved fee. No scope."

Petra slid over a third page. It was a certificate saying I had received the design payment in full.

Another signature that looked like mine.

I found my real receipt book in the fire box that evening. That invoice was still marked unpaid. On its date, I had sent Malcolm three messages asking when I could pay our foam supplier.

June read them over my shoulder.

"He let you ask."

"Yes."

She did not tell me to leave him. She set clean sheets on the guest bed. I moved in with a suitcase and the box of papers.

At nine, Dana forwarded Malcolm's answer. He would allow an inventory Friday morning if I signed a waiver clearing his company of all claims.

"We won't trade claims for your tools," she wrote. "I'll request access through the court if needed."

Under her message sat an attachment Malcolm had sent to Harbor Reach.

It was a completion certificate asking Ruth to release the $72,000.

Beside my printed name was a fresh signature, dated that very afternoon.