Moonlight Turned Hollow

Chapter 4: A Clean Record

The lawyer's name was Dana Rusk. She'd helped us draft the operating agreement eight years earlier, and she'd represented small firms through disputes that didn't make the local paper. I called her from my car during lunch and asked for an appointment.

"I need to know what my obligations are as the person who handles the books," I told her.

"Are you asking about the affair or the expenses?"

"Both. They're tangled."

"Then bring me the documents. Don't bring me a theory."

I liked her immediately.

I brought the documents. Dana read the operating agreement, the expense reports, and the Alder House contract. She asked for the company's current balance sheet and the client's payment schedule. I showed her the records I'd saved.

"Have you altered anything?" she asked.

"No."

"Deleted anything?"

"No."

"Have you told anyone at the company?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Keep it that way until we understand what you're required to disclose. A marriage problem isn't automatically a company problem, but client money changes the category."

She didn't tell me what to do about Owen. She told me what I needed to do to protect the records. I left with a list: preserve the original receipts, download the corporate card statements, document any expenses Owen admitted were personal, and avoid making accusations in writing that I couldn't prove.

At the studio, I printed the statements again and locked them in the records cabinet. I didn't change Owen's access or his passwords. I didn't have the right, and I wasn't going to make the company look like a battlefield before I understood the options.

That afternoon, Owen asked to speak privately.

"I told Mara we have to stop," he said.

"When?"

"Last night."

"Did she agree?"

He looked down at the table. "She said we needed to talk."

"Then you didn't end it."

"I told her it was over."

"Did she say the same?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm not asking you to tell me what she feels," I said. "I'm asking what you did."

"I told her I couldn't keep going."

"Have you had contact since?"

"We're on the same project."

"That isn't what I asked."

He stood. "You're going to make this impossible."

"I didn't make it happen."

"I know."

"Do you?"

He pressed his hands on the table, then stepped back. "I love you."

I looked at him. "You can love me and still have lied to me."

"I was going to stop."

"When?"

He had no answer.

The firm's office manager, Becca, knocked and stepped in with a stack of mail. Her eyes moved between us. I picked up my notebook and told her I'd be in the conference room.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing invoices. Mara sent the ballroom lighting draft again, this time with the mysterious vendor removed. The remaining numbers still didn't match the contract allowance. I returned it with a note asking her to identify the source for each line.

At 5:40, Owen stood in the doorway of my office.

"Mara's leaving the project," he said.

"Is she?"

"I'm assigning her to the Bell House job."

"That doesn't end the reporting problem."

"We can talk about that later."

"You need to submit a revised expense report by Friday."

He took a breath. "Elise."

"I'm not changing the deadline because you're uncomfortable."

He watched me for a few seconds, then walked away.

At home, I found his wedding ring on the bathroom counter beside the sink. I picked it up. The pale band on his finger had been visible all summer. I hadn't noticed the other marks on his hands, the tiny cuts from the restoration work, until I held the ring between my fingers.

I set it beside my own.

I didn't take mine off.

The next day, I sent Owen a formal request for an independent review of the company expenses. I copied Dana and our outside accountant. I wrote only what I could support: that several expenses coded to Alder House appeared inconsistent with the project calendar and supporting documentation.

Owen read the email in his office. I saw him through the glass wall.

He didn't come to mine.

By Friday, he had submitted a revised report. He listed $1,162.80 as personal charges and said he would repay the company within thirty days.

It was a partial answer. It was also the first answer in writing.