PART 5 — Ruth’s Folder and the Missing Allergy Message
Ruth did not send me the folder herself. She wanted to keep her job and feared doing something that could compromise the company’s records. Mara arranged for her to meet with an independent lawyer, who explained how to preserve the material and respond to the requests properly. I was grateful Ruth had spoken up. I also saw how much I had asked of her.
The folder contained correspondence about Starline’s contract, along with emails between Grant and the yacht seller. It showed Grant had decided to buy the June Star before he told me the company needed my guarantee for new equipment. His plan was to have Harbor Point pay Starline enough each month to cover the yacht’s short-term financing.
One email from Celia concerned the lunch. She asked Grant whether I had confirmed Noah’s allergy details. Grant replied that I had sent the list and that Celia should “keep it handy so Claire relaxes.” The message did not say they intended to harm Noah. It did show they had treated his safety information as part of their effort to win my trust.
Reading it made me put my phone facedown for a while. I had been trying to decide whether Grant had known what Celia served. Noah believed he had heard Grant tell her the food would make him sick. The email could not answer that question, but it removed the last innocent explanation for why Grant had been so eager to appear careful.
Mara sent the business records to Peter and the relevant lunch messages to the investigating officer. Peter focused on tracing payments. The officer told me lab results on the food would take time. I kept those two matters apart when I spoke with Noah. He needed to know that I believed him; he did not need a running account of contracts and bank statements.
A week after the boat ride, Noah asked to visit Dad’s old workshop. He had spent many Saturdays there with Grandpa when he was little. Grant still ran the business from the same building, but Ruth arranged for us to stop by while he was out. We brought a box of Dad’s photographs that I had found, hoping Ruth could identify people in them.
The workshop smelled of rubber hose and sawdust. Noah went straight to the doorway where Dad used to let him count the service vans as they returned. There were fewer vans now. Ruth showed us a wall of photographs from the company’s first twenty years, including one of Dad with Grant and me on a small fishing boat. Grant and I were both laughing.
Ruth studied the pictures I brought. She identified former employees, customers, and the marina where Dad had kept his first work skiff. When Noah stepped away to look at the boats stored outside, she told me three technicians had left in the spring. Grant had said the yacht would attract wealthy clients, but the staff spent more time cleaning it than servicing customers’ boats.
“I should have asked for the full accounts sooner,” I said. Ruth shook her head. “You asked for them every year,” she said. “He sent you what he wanted you to see.” She had watched Grant put off difficult bills and insist the next contract would solve everything. Lately, he had seemed most concerned with preserving the image of a successful owner.
I could recognize that brother. As children, Grant used to polish Dad’s old skiff before visitors came, though it still leaked and the motor sometimes stalled. He loved the moment someone admired it. Dad would thank him for cleaning, then make him help repair the motor. I had stopped noticing that Grant now wanted the admiration without anyone looking beneath the deck.
When we left, Noah carried a photograph of Dad in coveralls, holding a wrench almost as long as his arm. In the car, he asked if Harbor Point would close because I had stopped the loan. I told him I was working with people who understood the numbers. “I don’t know yet what will happen to the company,” I said. “That isn’t your job to fix.”
That evening, Mara called with news from Peter. Harbor Point was strained, but its service contracts still brought in steady work. Without the yacht payments, the business might have a path to recover. The lender had begun its own review after receiving our notice. Grant could seek financing for equipment, Mara said, if he presented honest accounts and a workable budget.
I had spent days wondering whether withdrawing my guarantee had condemned Dad’s company. For the first time, I could picture helping it without helping Grant hide what he had done. Mara and I agreed to seek an emergency shareholders’ meeting and an independent review. I was writing down the next steps when the investigating officer called. The dressing contained cashew.
END PART 5
