Chương 9
He frowned.
“We cancelled the villa.”
“We rebooked.”
“I did not rebook it.”
“You said you wanted privacy.”
“I said I didn’t want to be in a hotel.”
“So I found something better.”
Garnet stared at her.
“What card?”
She didn’t answer.
“What card, Amber?”
“Mine.”
Relief crossed his face.
Then vanished.
“Your personal card?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She looked away.
“Mostly.”
I felt Hazel’s hand close around my wrist.
It was not affection.
It was warning.
Garnet asked, “What does mostly mean?”
Amber pressed her lips together.
“One deposit went on the business card.”
“How much?”
“Six.”
“Six thousand?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at the phone.
“That makes fifty-four.”
“No, because the staging overlap—”
“Stop.”
The word came out flat.
Amber fell silent.
Garnet looked suddenly ill.
He sat on the low stone wall beside the driveway.
Hazel moved toward him.
He raised a hand.
“Please.”
She stopped.
Amber stood beside the SUV door.
For the first time since she arrived, nobody was accusing anyone.
A dog barked somewhere behind the neighboring fence.
A delivery van turned onto our street.
Garnet stared at the pavement.
“I have payroll on Friday.”
I knew that already.
His company employed fourteen people.
Seven had young children.
One, Luis, had recently asked Garnet for a schedule adjustment because his wife was starting chemotherapy.
I had met them at the company holiday dinner.
“What’s the operating balance?” I asked.
Garnet looked up.
“I need to check.”
Amber said, “There’s enough.”
He turned toward her.
“How do you know?”
“I saw it.”
“When?”
“Thursday.”
“How much?”
“About ninety.”
Garnet’s expression changed.
“No.”
Amber’s face tightened.
“What?”
“There wasn’t ninety Thursday.”
She stared at him.
“How much was there?”
“Sixty-three.”
“That can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“But the client payment cleared.”
“What client payment?”
“The Franklin contract.”
Garnet stood slowly.
“The Franklin payment isn’t due until next month.”
Amber blinked.
“I saw it pending.”
“No.”
“You told me it was coming.”
“I told you the project invoiced.”
She looked confused.
“Same thing.”
“No, Amber.”
His voice cracked for the first time.
“It is not the same thing.”
She pressed both hands to her forehead.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I made a mistake.”
“You made a mistake with fourteen people’s paychecks.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No, because you have money.”
He stared at her.
Amber gestured toward our house.
“Your family has money.”
Hazel’s grip tightened on my wrist again.
Garnet looked at Amber as though she had finally said the thing underneath all the others.
“You thought he’d cover it.”
She didn't answer.
“You thought if the company got tight, Dad would cover it.”
“I thought we had options.”
“You mean him.”
She looked at me.
Nobody needed to say yes.
Something in Garnet’s face closed.
It wasn't rage.
It was worse.
A kind of exhausted clarity.
“I need the company laptop.”
Amber folded her arms.
“Why?”
“To revoke access.”
Her face changed.
“You’re locking me out?”
“Yes.”
“Of everything?”
“Of the company.”
“I handle payroll.”
“Not anymore.”
“You cannot do that right now.”
“It’s my company.”
“I built half the systems you use.”
“And I appreciate that.”
The formality of the sentence hit harder than shouting.
Amber laughed in disbelief.
“Appreciate?”
“I need the laptop.”
“No.”
Garnet looked at her.
“Why not?”
“Because I need to check something first.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He went still again.
“What do you need to check?”
Amber didn’t move.
The SUV door remained open beside her.
A notification sounded from inside the vehicle.
Garnet took one step closer.
“What is on the laptop?”
She looked at him.
“Payroll.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth.”
Her face crumpled for half a second before she caught it.
Then she whispered, “There’s another account.”
Garnet did not react immediately.
I watched the words reach him in stages.
“What account?”
Amber swallowed.
“I opened it for wedding expenses.”
“In whose name?”
“The company’s.”
His voice dropped.
“You opened a bank account in my company’s name?”
“I had the documents.”
“You had copies of the incorporation file for taxes.”
“I know.”
“What bank?”
She named one I didn't recognize.
Garnet looked at the ground.
“How much went through it?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“How much is in it now?”
Amber wiped beneath one eye.
“Nothing.”
Hazel whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Garnet asked, “Where did the money come from?”
Amber looked toward the road.
“Deposits.”
“What deposits?”
She shook her head.
Garnet’s patience finally broke.
He shouted her name.
The sound startled all of us.
Amber flinched.
Then she said, “From clients.”
Nobody moved.
Garnet’s face drained of color.
“What clients?”
“Two.”
“You redirected client payments?”
“I was going to put it back.”
“How?”
“The gifts.”
He stared at her.
The same answer had become almost grotesque now.
“What gifts?”
“Our wedding gifts.”
“How much did you think people were going to give us?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Apparently enough to finance a company.”
She began crying.
Not elegantly.
She covered her face with both hands and bent slightly at the waist.
Hazel moved first.
She stepped toward Amber, then stopped herself.
Garnet did not move at all.
After a moment, Amber lowered her hands.
“I got in too deep.”
Garnet looked at her with an expression I couldn't read.
She continued.
“The first deposit was supposed to cover the lighting.”
“How much?”
“Eighteen.”
“Which client?”
“Benton.”
Garnet shut his eyes.
The name meant something.
When he opened them, he looked terrified.
“They paid an invoice?”
Amber nodded.
“Into the new account?”
“Yes.”
“What did the invoice say?”
Her silence answered.
Garnet took out his phone.
“What did you invoice them for?”
“Consulting.”
“We didn’t do consulting for Benton.”
“I know.”
Hazel whispered, “Garnet.”
He held up one hand.
Not now.
He opened his contacts and scrolled.
Amber watched.
“Who are you calling?”
“My controller.”
Her face changed.
“Don’t.”
Garnet looked at her.
“Why?”
May you like
“Because once you tell somebody, you can’t take it back.”
The sentence hung between them.
