Preston arrived with two attorneys and an expression of injured patience.
I sat beside Daniel.
Rachel sat across the aisle.
Allison was there with her own lawyer, a quiet woman named Denise Ward.
The judge ordered limited preservation measures and set deadlines for exchanging records.
She did not declare anyone guilty.
Preston seemed pleased by the absence of an immediate accusation.
Outside, he told reporters who had heard about the case that it was a business misunderstanding amplified by personal grievances.
I wanted to answer him with the image of my father asleep in the hospital.
Daniel held my arm and reminded me that a public argument would not pay Luis.
At the office that afternoon, Grace showed me a new problem.
One of our long-standing clients had suspended a renovation contract.
The client said uncertainty surrounding payment controls could jeopardize its own compliance review.
Without the contract we would not have enough work for the winter crew.
My anger shifted away from Preston for the first time that week.
I was frightened of what happened if he escaped responsibility while ordinary people absorbed the damage.
Grace asked whether I wanted to tell our staff before rumors reached them.
We gathered everyone beside the tool lockers.
I explained what I knew and what I did not.
I told them there might be reduced hours unless new work arrived.
There were no inspiring speeches.
People asked about rent, health coverage, and the possibility of layoffs.
I answered each question as carefully as I could.
I had never felt less like a successful business owner.
I had also never felt more responsible for telling the truth.
Chapter 34: A Night Without Answers
One evening Rachel called because the investigators had postponed a meeting.
She sounded exhausted.
She said she had begun measuring her days by the arrival of emails from lawyers.
I knew the feeling.
We agreed to walk through a public park rather than discuss the case at her house or mine.
The trail ran beside a shallow creek.
Families were walking dogs and children were balancing on low walls.
Rachel told me about Esther teaching her to set type in the printing shop.
I told her about my father showing me how to hold a screwdriver without stripping a screw.
We laughed at the similarity.
Neither parent had believed in shortcuts.
Rachel said she missed being able to tell her mother the ordinary things that happened at work.
I said I was grateful my father was still alive to complain about my coffee.
