Chapter 5 - James Bell Was Very Much Alive
James Bell answered his phone.
That surprised me.
By noon, he was standing in my driveway.
Sixty-two.
Weathered face.
Old pickup.
Not remotely pleased.
“I haven't worked with Caleb Mercer in eight months.”
Sarah looked at me.
I asked:
“Did you authorize him to use your license?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Last year, while we were working together.”
James looked at the roof.
“He used to subcontract under me. He could submit permit paperwork through my company while I supervised.”
“And this year?”
“No.”
Sarah asked:
“Did you know this permit existed?”
“I do now.”
James had received an automated city email after Martin requested inspection history.
He drove over because, in his words, “I didn't want another surprise with my name on it.”
I appreciated that more than I wanted to.
Caleb arrived fifteen minutes later.
He saw James.
Stopped beside his truck.
“Oh.”
James crossed his arms.
“That's your opening?”
Caleb looked at me.
“You called him.”
“Yes.”
“You could've let me explain.”
Sarah laughed.
He ignored her.
James said:
“Explain.”
Caleb rubbed his forehead.
“My license renewal got held.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Insurance certificate problem.”
“When?”
“June.”
We hired him June 18.
Sarah went completely still.
“You did not have an active contractor license when we hired you.”
“I was renewing.”
“That is not active.”
“I knew it would clear.”
James said:
“So you used mine.”
Caleb looked at him.
“Your information was still in the permit portal.”
“That's not authorization.”
“I wasn't trying to—”
James raised a hand.
“Don't finish that sentence.”
Caleb shut up.
I looked at my brother.
“You knew Sarah wanted a licensed contractor.”
“Yes.”
“You told us you were licensed.”
“I said the company was registered.”
Sarah stepped toward him.
“Oh, you're going to die on grammar.”
“I'm not.”
“Good.”
Caleb looked at me.
“My renewal would've cleared if the carrier hadn't required another audit.”
I almost laughed.
Insurance.
Of course.
Everybody's life apparently came down to insurance paperwork now.
James said:
“You should have told them.”
“I know.”
“Then you should've called me.”
“I couldn't afford your oversight fee.”
There.
Money.
Again.
I asked:
“How much were you saving?”
“About twenty-five hundred.”
We had trusted him with a $34,000 exterior job over twenty-five hundred dollars.
Sarah looked physically ill.
I asked:
“Did James's license issue affect Bay State?”
Lisa had arrived during the argument and stayed near the sidewalk until someone noticed her.
Now she spoke.
“Yes.”
Everybody turned.
She held a folder.
Not dramatically.
Just because insurance people apparently carry folders everywhere.
“The open permit and license mismatch appeared in the underwriting data.”
Sarah stared.
“So that is why they dropped us.”
Lisa shook her head.
“Partly.”
I hated that word now.
“Partly?”
“Bay State issued nonrenewals to more than four hundred homes in your broader area.”
“So even if Caleb had done everything right—”
“You might still have been nonrenewed.”
Sarah looked at the roof.
Then at Lisa.
“Then why did we repair anything?”
“Because replacement carriers would still see the property conditions.”
“Would they require all of it?”
“Most likely.”
“Most likely.”
Lisa flinched.
Sarah had become very good at making ordinary professional phrases sound obscene.
I asked:
“Can anyone insure us today?”
Lisa looked at the roof.
“With an open permit, a contractor-license discrepancy, and a lien?”
She shook her head.
“Standard market? Very difficult.”
Our mortgage required continuous homeowners insurance.
Bay State ended coverage in forty-seven days.
Forty-seven days sounded like a lot until I remembered how long everything else had taken.
James looked at Caleb.
“I can supervise the correction.”
Caleb stared.
“You'd do that?”
“For them.”
Not for Caleb.
James continued.
“You pay the permit fees. I don't.”
Caleb nodded.
“And you're not touching that roof without me there.”
Another nod.
Sarah watched.
I asked James:
“How much?”
He thought.
“Depends what I find when we open the flashing.”
I almost laughed.
Sarah saw.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Say it.”
I looked at the new siding.
The roof.
The repaired fence.
The mailbox holding two letters that had changed our week.
“I hammered the final nail yesterday.”
Sarah's face softened.
“For ten minutes I thought we were finished.”
She almost smiled.
“That's on you.”
It was.
Homeownership had apparently never promised an ending.
Only maintenance.
Then Caleb said:
“There’s something else about Harbor.”
Every head turned toward him.
Sarah closed her eyes.
“What now?”
He looked directly at me.
“The materials I moved off this property…”
I waited.
“I didn't move all of them to another customer.”
“Where did they go?”
May you like
Caleb looked toward his truck.
“I sold some.”
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