Chapter 6 - The Pallets Behind The Warehouse
Caleb had sold about six thousand dollars of unused material.
Not for profit.
That was the distinction he wanted credit for.
I did not give it to him.
We drove to his warehouse.
Sarah came.
She said she no longer trusted any conversation that happened without her.
Fair.
Caleb unlocked the roll-up door.
Inside, the place looked worse than I expected.
Half-empty shelving.
A broken compressor.
Three ladders.
A stack of notices clipped to a board.
One employee sweeping because apparently someone still needed to.
Caleb pointed toward the back.
Two unopened siding pallets remained.
Those were ours.
Or had been.
“What did you sell?” I asked.
“Shingles. Some lumber. Extra siding.”
“To who?”
“Other contractors.”
“For cash?”
“Yes.”
Sarah stared.
“And what did you do with the cash?”
“Payroll.”
Again.
The word he kept using like it changed ownership.
I walked through the warehouse.
I had helped him paint this place two years earlier.
He had been proud.
New logo.
Fresh website.
Five employees.
He told me he was finally done being “Daniel's little brother who needs a favor.”
Maybe that was why I ignored the warning signs.
I wanted it too.
Sarah stood beside a desk piled with invoices.
“You didn't make a mistake.”
Caleb's face tightened.
“What?”
“You keep talking like things got out of hand.”
“They did.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You made a sequence of choices because every next choice looked smaller than admitting the company was failing.”
Caleb looked at me.
I couldn't rescue him.
She was right.
He had used our money for old payroll.
Used someone else's license.
Moved material.
Sold some.
Left Harbor unpaid.
Each choice made the next one easier.
Caleb sat on a stack of flooring boxes.
“I had five guys.”
“Had?” I asked.
“Three left.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“You didn't tell me.”
He laughed.
That sentence again.
“I've told you plenty of things this week.”
“Not before they exploded.”
Sarah looked at me.
I deserved that one too.
Caleb rubbed his face.
“If I shut down in June, everybody loses.”
“Everybody lost anyway.”
“I thought Grayson would pay.”
Sarah asked:
“Did they?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Change order dispute.”
Of course.
Construction money was always on its way until it wasn't.
I asked:
“How much do you owe Harbor total?”
“Forty-one.”
Sarah stared.
“The lien is twenty-six.”
“That's what they say they can tie to your project deliveries.”
That number now made more sense.
Not better.
“How much material physically stayed at our house?”
Caleb thought.
“Probably fifteen.”
“How much did you take away?”
“Eleven.”
“And six of that you sold.”
“Yes.”
“What about the other five?”
“Used on two jobs.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“So Harbor delivered twenty-six thousand dollars in materials to our address.”
“Yes.”
“And you physically removed eleven thousand dollars of it.”
“Yes.”
The supplier had a plausible reason to attach the full delivery value to our property.
Then we'd have to fight about what happened afterward.
Caleb stood.
“I’ll pay it.”
“With what?”
He looked toward the warehouse.
“Everything.”
For the first time, I believed him.
That did not mean he could.
His van.
Tools.
Remaining inventory.
Maybe ten or twelve thousand total after lenders.
Not forty-one.
Sarah looked toward the two siding pallets.
“Can those go back?”
“Maybe.”
“Then call.”
He pulled out his phone.
No argument.
Harbor agreed to take unopened stock back for credit after inspection.
Small win.
I walked toward the loading door.
Caleb followed.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Did you really not know?”
I turned.
“Know what?”
“How bad I was doing.”
The question bothered me.
“I knew you were tight.”
He looked at me.
“You saw me sell the bike.”
“Yes.”
“You saw the warehouse half empty last month.”
“I thought you were turning inventory faster.”
Caleb laughed.
I heard how stupid I sounded.
He continued.
“I asked you for the job.”
“You gave me a bid.”
“I came to your house three times until you said yes.”
I stared.
He wasn't accusing me.
Not exactly.
“You wanted to help me.”
“Yes.”
“You hired me partly because I needed it.”
I looked toward Sarah.
She was outside speaking to Harbor.
She had told me exactly that in June.
You aren't hiring a contractor. You're rescuing your brother with our roof.
I had denied it.
Caleb said:
“You knew enough to be worried.”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you check?”
I looked at him.
Because if I checked and found what I suspected, I would have had to choose between my house and my brother.
Instead I chose not to know.
“I trusted you.”
Caleb's face tightened.
I added:
May you like
“And I used trust as an excuse not to look.”
That one belonged to me.
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