PART 6 — The Ingredient No One Could Explain Away
The officer explained the result carefully. The sample of dressing recovered from the yacht contained cashew protein. The laboratory could not determine who had put it there or when. Celia had told police she used a bottled herb dressing, and investigators were checking the product and the jar Noah had described. I thanked the officer, then sat beside Noah while he finished his homework.
He noticed I was distracted. I told him the food had contained something he was allergic to, which confirmed why he had become ill. “Was it cashew?” he asked. When I nodded, he set down his pencil. We had both heard Celia promise there would be no cashews. Noah stared at the photograph of Dad propped beside the lamp.
The police asked Celia and Grant to come in for further interviews. Grant’s lawyer advised them to communicate through him, a decision Mara said I should respect even if it frustrated me. I was frustrated. Noah had spent the week sleeping with his bedroom door open, calling out when he heard the refrigerator make an unfamiliar noise. I wanted answers that came faster than an investigation could give them.
Mara kept the business meeting moving. Grant initially refused to attend, arguing that I held only a minority interest. His lawyer changed course after reviewing Dad’s company agreement, which required notice to both owners for major financing and related-party contracts. Grant’s payments to Starline raised both issues. We scheduled the meeting for the following Tuesday at Mara’s office.
Peter prepared questions rather than accusations. He wanted the Starline lease, evidence of any client events, an explanation for the $184,000 in payments, and a corrected cash-flow forecast. I asked him to include one more question: what Harbor Point’s employees would need if we sold the yacht and used the proceeds to pay legitimate business debts.
The June Star had become difficult for me to picture without seeing Noah at the table below deck. Still, I could not pretend the boat had no financial value. Its sale might help preserve the workshop Dad built. Peter warned me that Starline’s financing and the boat’s market value would determine how much, if anything, remained. We needed documents before making promises.
Two days before the meeting, Celia left a letter at my office. Her handwriting ran across four pages. She said she had chosen a dressing she believed was safe and that Grant’s words during Noah’s reaction had been cruel because he was scared about the loan. She apologized for failing Noah. She also wrote that she hoped I would remember how much the business meant to our father.
I read it once, then gave it to Mara. Celia’s account still did not explain the jar Noah had seen, or why she had claimed to forget a list she confirmed receiving. I did not reply. That night, Noah asked whether people sometimes apologize just to make someone stop asking questions. I wondered if he had seen the envelope on my desk.
“Sometimes they do,” I said. “Sometimes they mean it and still leave things out.” He considered that for a moment. Then he asked whether he had to forgive Celia to make family dinners normal again. I told him family dinners were an adult problem. He was allowed to decide, with time, how he felt about the people who had frightened him.
On Monday, the officer called with another finding. Investigators had obtained a receipt for a jar of cashew cream purchased by Celia on the Friday before the boat ride. Celia had acknowledged buying it but said it was for a dessert she had meant to prepare for other guests. Police had not found that dessert aboard. The officer would speak with her again.
I thought about Noah searching for a life jacket beside the galley. He had noticed a jar before he had any reason to look for one. I wrote that down for my own records, though his formal interview already covered it. I had learned that preserving a fact was more useful than rehearsing an argument about what it proved.
At Mara’s office the next morning, Grant arrived with his lawyer and a folder tucked under one arm. He looked tired. For an instant, I remembered how he used to bring Dad coffee during the shop’s earliest years, before either of us had children. Grant took the chair across from me and glanced at Peter’s documents.
Mara outlined the questions. Grant answered that Starline had supplied legitimate marketing services, and he handed over a lease signed by Celia. Peter examined it. The document was dated eleven months earlier, but the yacht’s registration showed Starline had acquired the boat five months after that. Peter pointed to the date and asked Grant which vessel the company had been leasing before the June Star.
Grant took back the paper. His lawyer asked for a short break. As they stood, Grant looked at me. “You know how hard I worked for Dad,” he said. “Don’t sit there like I took something from him.” I wanted to answer. Then I saw Ruth waiting outside with a box of records Grant had instructed her to destroy.
END PART 6
