The Second Refund Brought A Loan Against Molds I Still Owned

I did not meet Nora in a parking lot or call her from June's kitchen.

I sent her message to Dana.

"She can speak through counsel," Dana said. "You don't need to investigate your husband's girlfriend alone."

Hearing someone else say girlfriend made my stomach tighten. It also stopped me from making excuses for a word Malcolm had never allowed me to use.

I answered with Dana's contact information. Then I went to look at an empty shop in Brooklyn, south of the city line.

The roof was sound. The floor drain was capped. The landlord allowed fabrication if I met the lease and permit terms. I could hear traffic on Ritchie Highway with the door open.

"You buying or looking?" he asked.

"Looking until I can prove what money is mine."

He gave me a written quote for $2,100 a month.

For once, a man handed me a price without telling me what I could afford.

Meanwhile, Petra asked the aquarium's accounts office to search every vendor message linked to Nacre. Dana sent records requests in our case. I gave her my client list, including the small jobs Malcolm said barely paid for supplies.

One was the Marsh Window Nature Room, across the county line. It had ordered a tidal root habitat for $30,000. Its director had paid in full because Malcolm promised a discount and early delivery.

I had received neither the money nor the news.

The director's voice shook on our call.

"We raised that money at pancake breakfasts."

"I still have your roots and backing panels," I told her. "They're on the inventory."

"Will you finish them?"

"Yes, with a proper agreement and a safe place to work."

I would not promise a date I could not keep.

Marsh Window sent its file. There was another payment change, another false receipt, and a photo of Malcolm shaking hands beside a paper check.

Nora's lawyer sought a meeting with ours. A week later, $30,000 came back into a second designated client account under a written interim agreement. No one waived a claim. Nobody could treat a returned dollar as proof that the rest had been settled.

The two smaller clients now had their $49,500 protected. Harbor Reach was still missing its first $72,000.

"Why return these first?" I asked Dana.

"Their records are simple. And Nora wants room to argue that Malcolm controlled the scheme."

The second refund produced a new problem.

Marsh Window had asked Nacre for every document used to justify taking its money. One attachment listed my fourteen molds as security for a $55,000 business loan to Malcolm's sales company.

There was a separate guarantee in my name.

I read it twice.

"I never borrowed this."

"I believe you," Dana said. "We still have to address the lender's file."

She contacted the lender's legal department and gave notice of disputed signatures. She asked it to preserve the application records and refrain from action while it reviewed them. The lender agreed to a short standstill in writing. It did not erase the debt that day.

Then Malcolm asked to meet me with both lawyers present.

He brought the face he used when a client complained about a delay.

"We can save the business," he said. "I can pay you a salary. Six hundred a week. No bills to worry about."

"You offered me less than my own labor cost."

"You need a shop. I have a shop."

I placed the original Harbor Reach assignment on the table.

"You told people I was the helper."

"Nobody said helper."

"I hold the client assignments. I own the molds. And the last $72,000 needs my approval under the escrow agreement."

He looked at his lawyer.

"She doesn't understand how these things work."

His lawyer read the page instead of answering him.

I had rehearsed a sharp speech. What came out was quiet.

"You had the front door key, Malcolm. You never had my signature."

He pushed his chair back, but his lawyer kept him at the table.

We made no settlement that afternoon. Dana warned me that owning the molds would not settle the whole loan dispute. The lender had to review what had happened and release any claim through proper papers.

I took the blue tile out of my coat and set it beside the lease quote.

Its edges were rough. I had never bothered to sand them.

The next morning, Dana called before eight.

"The lender sent the application history," she said. "There's a document granting Malcolm authority to sign for you. It's dated the day you were in surgery."