Chương 12
“Why did you shave my head?” Gwen asked.
Paige looked away.
“You had patches.”
“I asked you to stop.”
“You looked worse.”
“To whom?”
“We had people coming.”
Gwen felt the memory in her body before it reached her mind: the locked bathroom door, Paige’s perfume, Margaret opening a black trash bag, the razor scraping too quickly over tender skin.
“You cut me,” Gwen said.
“It was an accident.”
“You kept going.”
Paige’s mouth opened, then closed.
Marcus appeared through the clinic doors. He saw Paige and changed direction immediately.
Paige said, “Tell Gavin to settle. Mom will give the shop back. She’ll return your money. We can stop this before the lawyers take everything.”
“Put it through Rina.”
“You don’t even sound like yourself.”
Gwen steadied herself against the wall.
“I’m not sure you ever listened long enough to know.”
Paige left before Marcus reached them.
In the car, Gwen began shaking.
Marcus drove without asking questions. He stopped at a red light and adjusted the air vent away from her.
“Do you want me to call Gavin?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay.”
She looked at him.
He lifted one hand. “That was a normal okay.”
She laughed despite herself, then cried for the rest of the drive.
When Gavin learned about the encounter, he wanted to confront Paige at once. Gwen refused to tell him where she lived.
“I know where she lives,” he said.
“Then I’ll tell Rina you’re going.”
“You think I’m dangerous?”
“I think you’re angry.”
“She cornered you at the clinic.”
“And I handled it.”
“She shouldn’t get to walk away.”
“She did not walk away with what she wanted.”
“That’s not enough.”
“For you.”
He paced the small living room.
Gwen sat at the table, exhausted but firm.
“She came because she lost her job,” Gwen said. “She wanted me to fix it. I said no.”
“That’s not justice.”
“I’m not in charge of justice.”
“She hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you angrier?”
“I am angry. I’m also tired. And hungry. And my mouth hurts. People can have more than one thing happening.”
Gavin stopped pacing.
The refrigerator groaned.
He sat down.
“I want them afraid,” he admitted.
“I know.”
“I want them to feel what you felt.”
“They won’t.”
He looked at her.
“Fear doesn’t make people understand,” she said. “It just makes them reach for whatever weapon they already like.”
“What weapon do I like?”
“You tell me.”
He rubbed his right hand.
The numbness had spread into his palm. He had missed two physical-therapy appointments since coming home.
“Work,” he said finally.
Gwen nodded. “And silence.”
The settlement conference with Braddock Industrial occurred in August. Gavin sat beside Alexis in a downtown office while the company’s insurer argued about future medical costs, lost earning capacity, and whether his return to heavy work proved his hand injury was less serious than claimed.
Gavin nearly walked out.
Alexis stopped him in the hallway.
“You asked for honesty,” she said. “Here it is. Your anger is expensive.”
“They called me a liar.”
“They challenged the value of your claim. That is what they came to do.”
“They built the machine that failed.”
“And we have evidence. Evidence does not prevent unpleasant negotiations.”
He leaned against the wall.
Through the conference-room glass he could see the insurer’s representative checking her phone.
“What is the real number?” Gavin asked.
“The number you can accept without hating yourself is not a legal calculation.”
“Try.”
Alexis gave him a range. After fees, liens, and repayment obligations, he would receive far less than the nearly four hundred thousand he had shown his family.
He thought of Paige saying Miami.
He thought of the shop roof, Gwen’s medical bills, employee payroll, and the apartment refrigerator.
He returned to the room.
By late afternoon, they reached an agreement.
The gross amount was three hundred eighty-two thousand dollars. After everything came out, Gavin would receive just over two hundred forty thousand.
He signed.
Outside, Alexis asked whether he felt relieved.
“No.”
“Most people don’t.”
He called Gwen from the parking garage.
“It settled,” he said.
“How much?”
He told her.
She was quiet.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m trying to decide whether congratulations sounds strange.”
“It does.”
“Then I won’t say it.”
He leaned against his truck.
“What should we do with it?” he asked.
“We?”
He closed his eyes. “I walked into that.”
“Yes.”
“I mean—what do you think?”
“Pay the lawyers. Keep the shop open. Don’t buy a truck.”
“My truck is dying.”
“It can die with dignity.”
He smiled.
Then she said, “And I want my own account.”
“You have one.”
“One nobody else has access to. Not you. Not your mother. Not Paige.”
“Okay.”
“Normal okay?”
“I’m learning.”
In September, Margaret requested private mediation.
Her attorney proposed returning Gavin’s ownership interest, repaying part of Gwen’s money, and allowing Gavin to purchase the family house and other assets at a discounted value. In exchange, both sides would dismiss claims and agree not to discuss the dispute publicly.
Tessa called it a serious offer.
Rina called it incomplete.
The forensic accounting had identified more than two hundred thousand dollars in questionable payments over five years, though some could be justified as expenses. Margaret faced the possibility of losing management control and repaying substantial sums. Paige’s consulting payments and transfers were harder to defend.
Gavin wanted the shop secured immediately.
Gwen wanted written acknowledgment that her signatures had been obtained through deception and that Paige had no right to use or distribute videos of her.
Margaret refused any admission of wrongdoing.
For the first time since the case began, Gavin and Gwen’s interests pulled in different directions.
“If we settle now, the shop is safe,” Gavin said.
May you like
They were seated at Marcus’s dining table with papers spread between them. Rain tapped against the windows. A bucket sat beneath a leak near the bedroom door because the roof had developed its own opinion about autumn.
“And they say nothing happened,” Gwen replied.
