Chapter 3 - THE BUSINESS I WAS SUPPOSED TO SELL FOR TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND
Saturday morning began with Oliver asking if we could make pancakes.
I said yes.
Then burned the first three because I was reading bank records on my phone.
Megan took the spatula away.
“You are suspended from breakfast.”
“I own a salon.”
“Not a diner.”
Oliver laughed.
I tried.
I really tried to keep the morning normal.
Syrup.
Cartoons.
Lily arguing that blueberries inside pancakes were “wet surprises.”
But my brain kept returning to one number.
$25,000.
Harbor & Pine had cleared almost $180,000 in revenue the previous year after payroll and product costs.
The leasehold improvements alone were worth more than $25,000.
The client list represented eleven years of work.
The chairs.
Dryers.
Color inventory.
Booking system.
Brand.
All of it.
Thomas’s draft agreement treated my life like a yard sale.
At nine, I called my bookkeeper, Denise Harper.
She answered from a soccer field.
“Mara?”
“Can you talk?”
“Give me a second.”
Wind rushed across the phone.
Then:
“Okay.”
“Did you send Thomas my current P&L?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
Silence.
“That’s not the answer I wanted.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“He has QuickBooks admin access.”
“I know.”
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That he created another user.”
I stood.
“What user?”
“Carter Coastal Holdings.”
My mouth went dry.
“When?”
“June.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“He said you were reorganizing management.”
“Did you confirm with me?”
Another silence.
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Denise sounded sick.
“Mara, I’m sorry.”
“What could that user do?”
“View reports. Export. Categorize. Reconcile if he assigned permissions.”
“Move money?”
“Not directly through QuickBooks.”
“What about bank access?”
“That’s separate.”
I knew that.
I also knew Thomas had the login to my salon operating account because he paid vendors and reconciled payroll tax.
I opened the banking app.
Balance:
$18,442.
I stared.
That couldn’t be right.
Two weeks earlier, we had more than $61,000.
I opened transactions.
ACH transfer.
$14,000.
ACH transfer.
$9,500.
$6,000.
$8,750.
Recipient:
MHC SERVICES.
I called Denise back.
“What is MHC?”
“I don’t know.”
“You categorized four transfers to it.”
“Thomas did.”
“As what?”
“Management consulting.”
My skin went cold.
“Since when?”
She checked.
“First one last February.”
“How much total?”
Another pause.
“Mara.”
“How much?”
“I need to run the report.”
“Do it.”
Five minutes later, the answer arrived.
$73,860.
Seventy-three thousand eight hundred sixty dollars.
Transferred from my salon in fourteen months.
I opened Maine’s corporate registry.
MHC Services LLC.
Registered agent:
Beatrice Carter.
Manager:
Beatrice Carter.
My mother-in-law had been receiving “consulting” payments from my salon while telling my five-year-old that I existed to bring money home.
I started laughing.
Megan came into the room.
“What?”
I turned the screen.
She read.
Then sat.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Does Beatrice consult?”
“She complains.”
“Maybe that’s billable.”
I laughed again.
Then cried.
Megan moved beside me.
“No.”
I wiped my face.
“I worked Christmas Eve.”
“I know.”
“I took clients with pneumonia.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I know.”
“I missed Oliver’s preschool field day.”
“Mara.”
“Thomas told me we were behind on the mortgage.”
Megan frowned.
“What?”
“He said commissions were down and his mother’s medications were costing more.”
“Were you behind?”
I opened my personal bank account.
Mortgage autopay came from our joint household account.
I had never checked it closely because Thomas “handled bills.”
I logged into the mortgage portal.
Current.
No missed payments.
No late fees.
In fact, two months earlier, there had been an extra principal payment of $5,000.
I stared.
“Why would he tell me we were behind?”
Megan’s face changed.
“So you’d work.”
The sentence landed.
I called Thomas.
He answered immediately.
“Where’s Oliver?”
“At Megan’s.”
“I’m coming to get him.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“Why has my salon paid your mother seventy-three thousand dollars?”
Silence.
Then:
“Those were household reimbursements.”
“To an LLC.”
“Yes.”
“For what consulting?”
“That was the cleanest category.”
“Cleanest for who?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Why is your mother’s company receiving my business money?”
“She watches Oliver.”
“She lives in my house rent-free.”
“She cooks.”
“Apparently not for me.”
He exhaled.
“Can we stop talking about lobster?”
“Why did you lie about the mortgage?”
“I didn’t.”
“You told me we were two months behind in March.”
“We were tight.”
“That is not the same sentence.”
“I was trying to motivate you.”
I went still.
Megan heard it.
Her eyes widened.
“To motivate me.”
“Yes. Because every time business gets comfortable, you cut hours.”
“I work fifty-five hours a week.”
“You used to work sixty-five.”
I could barely breathe.
“You wanted me working more.”
“We needed income.”
“For what?”
“Life.”
“No.”
I opened the Carter Coastal business plan.
“For Cass & Coast?”
He said nothing.
“Thomas.”
“You’re twisting this.”
“You applied for a $225,000 line against my house.”
“For our future.”
“You formed the company with your mother and sister.”
“You would benefit.”
“You drafted an agreement to buy my salon for twenty-five thousand dollars.”
His voice hardened.
“That was preliminary.”
“You wanted me to sign it tomorrow.”
“We were going to discuss it.”
“At the bank?”
“Yes.”
“After telling me it was a refinance.”
“You hate business paperwork. I was simplifying.”
I laughed.
“You were lying.”
“No.”
“Then explain why the application used a fake email address.”
Silence.
“Mara.”
“Goodbye.”
“Do not hang up.”
I did.
Ten minutes later, he texted.
WE NEED TO TALK BEFORE YOU DESTROY THIS FAMILY OVER NUMBERS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.
I stared at the message.
Then Oliver walked in holding two plastic dinosaurs.
“Mom?”
I locked the phone.
“Yes?”
“Grandma has a book about you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What book?”
“The blue one.”
“What’s in it?”
“She writes when you go to work.”
I stared at him.
“When I go to work?”
“And when you come home.”
Megan looked at me.
Oliver continued.
“Grandma says it proves Daddy takes care of me more.”
The room went silent.
May you like
Then he added:
“She told Daddy the judge will like it.”
