The Funding Meeting Stopped When The Original Pages Came Out

Preston had chosen the office with the river view for the funding meeting. From my chair, I could see the cutter through its glass wall.

Ben was feeding sailcloth across the bed. The pump gave its steady hum. Work was still coming in, even while Preston talked as though the company had only one chance to live.

"We need a decision today," he said. "The expansion space won't wait."

Ellis sat opposite him. Amaya took the chair near the door. Mika and her lawyer sat beside each other, and Ruth joined me by phone.

The accountant, Paul Mercer, placed his report in front of each owner.

"This is a limited records review," he said. "It isn't an audit opinion. I checked the specific items requested for the funding decision."

He opened to a one-page table.

The first row showed my loan. The funding packet treated the remaining $60,000 as money that required no repayment. The ledger, signed note, security agreement, and payment history showed a debt.

The second row listed Preston's $18,600 fee. Paul had found the transfer, but no written approval from Mika.

The third listed an $8,400 deposit on the neighboring warehouse. Preston had already signed the lease in the company's name.

Mika turned toward him.

"You said you were holding the space."

"That's what a deposit does."

"You said we could walk away."

Paul waited until they stopped.

"The remaining rental obligation needs to be resolved with the landlord," he said. "I have not assumed the deposit is recoverable."

Preston tapped my loan row.

"I'm still not satisfied these are the final pages."

I took the originals from the blue folder and laid them flat.

"Which page concerns you?"

"The furniture clause."

I turned to the signed addendum. It described the bench by size and photograph, including the half-moon notch along its forward edge.

His initials sat beneath the paragraph about lifetime use. His full signature sat at the bottom.

Mika put down her own copy.

"Mine matches," she said.

Ruth had also supplied the dated email from the original closing. Its attachments matched the pages on the table.

Preston stopped touching the paper.

"Nobody meant for a family favor to stop development," he said.

Amaya lifted her pen.

"Did you disclose the obligation in your application?"

"We were going to settle it."

"Was it settled when you signed the application?"

"No."

"Then the application was inaccurate when submitted."

She wrote down his answer and asked him to confirm it in the meeting record.

He asked if the correction could simply replace the first application.

"We keep both versions," she said. "The file needs to show what changed and why."

I had saved old sail patterns for much the same reason. A new line did not tell you where the first cut had gone wrong.

Paul asked Preston whether any other repayment promises had been left out. He said no. Mika said none that she knew of. Paul recorded both answers and requested written confirmations from them before completing his report.

Ellis closed his folder.

"I'm withdrawing my proposed investment," he said. "The expansion you described isn't the business these records show."

Preston's cheeks darkened.

"Over one family dispute?"

"Over debt, equipment, spending authority, and a lease I was told hadn't been signed."

He stood. He thanked Mika for supplying the records. Then he left.

Amaya stayed.

"The expansion application cannot proceed on this basis," she said. "That decision doesn't mean the repair business has no value."

Mika looked up.

Amaya asked about the open orders. Paul had checked those too. They showed deposits, delivery dates, and enough regular work to support the existing shop if costs were kept down.

"A smaller request would need a fresh review," Amaya said. "Clear management authority, corrected financial statements, and a complete debt schedule. There is no approval today."

Preston laughed once.

"You think Mika can run this alone?"

Outside the glass, Ben lifted the next panel. Mika glanced at the job sheet, then pointed through the door toward the broadseam edge he needed to check.

He understood her at once.

"She hasn't been alone," I said.

My daughter opened her notebook.

"I want the figures for keeping the current shop," she told Amaya. "No warehouse. No lounge."

Preston pushed his chair back.

"I own sixty percent. You can't vote me out."

Mika's lawyer spoke for the first time.

"We're aware of the ownership. Mika would like to discuss a negotiated purchase of your interest, subject to a complete settlement."

Preston looked at me.

"You're buying her a company now?"

"No," I said. "She asked me not to."

I put the originals away. Ruth confirmed that the bench cure deadline still stood. A failed funding meeting did not change it.

As we were leaving, Preston's phone rang.

He answered, listened, and turned away from us.

The warehouse landlord was calling about the next rent payment.