Chapter 9 - My Father Came Home Angry
Dad did not look ashamed.
He looked insulted.
That was harder.
“You brought Rachel back?”
I stood.
“She came back.”
He looked at her.
“You have no authority here.”
Rachel's face didn't change.
“Neither do you right now.”
Dad laughed.
“We'll see.”
Claire moved toward the doorway.
Dad glanced at her.
“Family meeting.”
She stopped.
“I’m Daniel's wife.”
“This is company business.”
I almost let that happen.
Old reflex.
Dad decides the room.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Claire stays.”
His face tightened.
“Fine.”
Mom remained near the window.
Dad put both hands on the conference table.
“I have a path.”
Of course he did.
“What?”
“Monarch will suspend daily debits for thirty days if Merrick releases the sweep and Hartwell confirms the next milestone.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Merrick isn't releasing the sweep.”
Dad ignored her.
I asked:
“Did they say they would?”
“Not yet.”
“So no path.”
His jaw tightened.
“I have a negotiation.”
“That is not the same.”
He stared at me as though I had become disloyal overnight.
Then Mom asked:
“What about the house?”
Dad looked at her.
“We'll deal with that.”
“No.”
Her voice was small.
Still stopped him.
“I want an answer.”
“The HELOC is current.”
“With what?”
Silence.
Mom's face changed.
“Richard.”
Dad looked away.
Rachel said quietly:
“Company paid three of the recent interest draws.”
Mom stared.
Dad rounded on Rachel.
“You don't know why.”
“It’s in the ledger.”
Mom sat.
I felt sick.
“You used company money to pay your personal home-equity interest?”
Dad snapped:
“The home equity funded the company.”
“Then book it as a shareholder loan.”
“I intended to.”
“When?”
He looked at me.
“You think bookkeeping is the crisis?”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I think you've spent two years saying later.”
His face hardened.
“I kept this company open.”
“You kept it moving.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
That was the first time I heard the distinction clearly.
Dad looked around the room.
“Do you people have any idea what happens if Carter closes?”
Rachel said:
“Yes.”
He ignored her.
“Seventy-four jobs.”
“Currently seventy-four unpaid jobs,” Claire said.
Dad glared.
She held his eyes.
Then I asked about the safe.
“Where's the cash?”
“What cash?”
“Emergency reserve.”
“Paid health insurance.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Dad opened his briefcase and pulled out a receipt.
Thirty-one thousand dollars.
Our group health premium had been due Wednesday.
He had used the safe reserve plus a cashier's check to keep employee coverage active through the end of the month.
I stared.
One thing that looked like theft was not.
“Why not tell anyone?”
“Because I did not have time for a committee.”
Rachel looked at the receipt.
“That's why the safe was empty?”
“Yes.”
She hadn't known either.
Dad pointed at her.
“Not everything I did was criminal.”
No one had said everything.
That was the problem with a person who feels accused.
Every true fact becomes defense against all the others.
I asked:
“Did you knowingly certify Hartwell receivables before they were eligible?”
His face changed.
There it was.
He sat.
“Richard,” Mom whispered.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“They were going to be eligible.”
“Were they when you signed?”
He looked at me.
“You want a lawyer's answer?”
“I want yours.”
“No.”
The room went quiet.
“No, they weren't.”
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad continued before anyone could speak.
“Thirty days later they would have been.”
“But the bank lent money before those thirty days.”
“Yes.”
“Because you said they already existed.”
“Yes.”
There was no useful euphemism left.
I asked:
“Why?”
His face finally cracked.
“Because I was out of options.”
Not entirely true.
He had options.
Layoffs.
Slow production.
Tell customers.
Tell employees.
Call an ownership meeting.
Admit the company was in trouble.
He had been out of options he was willing to take.
Dad looked at me.
“You think I wanted this?”
“No.”
“You think I bought a boat? A condo? Put money in Switzerland?”
“No.”
“Then where exactly is the betrayal?”
I stared at him.
“Everyone else carried risks you didn't tell them they were carrying.”
His face went still.
Mom looked down.
May you like
Rachel too.
And I knew the sentence applied farther than Dad.
