Chapter 5 - THE FIRST THING I TOOK BACK
I did not go home Monday night.
Neither did Oliver.
Erin told me not to create unnecessary conflict before we understood the temporary-motion schedule.
Thomas texted forty-three times.
Most were about Oliver.
Some were about money.
One was almost funny.
YOU LOCKED ME OUT OF QUICKBOOKS.
Yes.
I had.
He called at 8:03.
I answered because Erin told me to keep child-related communication calm and preferably written, but I needed to hear one thing.
“You filed for divorce.”
Silence.
Then:
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“After we talked.”
“At the bank?”
“Mara.”
“Before or after I pledged my house?”
“You’re obsessed with that.”
“I’m becoming fond of documents.”
He exhaled.
“I filed because things haven’t been good.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You filed because you were planning something.”
“You always think there’s a conspiracy.”
“You applied for debt against my house and filed divorce before serving me.”
“The loan was for a family business.”
“A business that excludes me.”
“You would’ve benefited through marriage.”
“From my own money?”
“See? This is why conversations with you go nowhere.”
I closed my eyes.
The old version of me would have defended my tone.
I didn’t.
“Did you tell Beatrice to track my work hours?”
Silence.
“She keeps notes about Oliver.”
“Did you ask her?”
“We discussed schedules.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me you intended to use those notes in court?”
“Mara, nobody intended anything.”
“You attached them.”
He stopped.
Good.
“What about the plate?”
“You smashed it.”
“After your mother told me I wasn’t real family.”
“That doesn’t justify throwing things.”
He was right.
I hated that.
“No. It doesn’t.”
The answer surprised him.
“But you photographed it.”
“I took a picture afterward.”
“Why?”
“Because it happened.”
“Before or after asking if Oliver was okay?”
Silence.
I felt something settle.
“Goodnight, Thomas.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“You’re keeping my son from me.”
“No. You can speak to him now. Erin will contact your lawyer tomorrow about parenting time.”
“My lawyer?”
“Yes.”
He went quiet.
I had finally become expensive.
Not rich.
Represented.
There was a difference.
Tuesday morning, Harbor & Pine opened at nine.
I took my first client at nine-fifteen.
Mrs. Dwyer had been seeing me for eight years and noticed everything.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You want to talk?”
“No.”
“Good. My daughter talks too much. Give me layers.”
Normal.
I needed it.
At noon, Denise came in carrying a folder.
“What?”
“I traced Thomas’s salary.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because you said he told you commissions were down.”
“They were.”
“Maybe.”
She opened payroll deposits from the joint account.
Thomas’s employer had deposited base pay twice monthly.
But beginning fourteen months earlier, the amounts looked smaller.
I had noticed.
Thomas said payroll changed because commissions were paid separately.
They were.
Just not to our joint account.
His commission statements had been routed to a second account at Pine State Community Bank.
Same bank as Carter Coastal’s loan.
“How much?”
Denise looked at me.
“Eighty-nine thousand dollars in commissions since last June.”
I sat.
“He told me he earned twenty-two.”
“He deposited twenty-two into your household account.”
“Where did the rest go?”
“Separate account.”
“Whose?”
“His.”
My throat tightened.
While I took extra Saturdays because he said business was slow, Thomas had hidden almost seventy thousand dollars of his own income.
“Transfers?”
Denise pointed.
$18,000 to Carter Coastal.
$12,000.
$9,000.
Then monthly payments to an apartment complex in Falmouth.
Cassandra lived with us.
Beatrice lived with us.
Thomas lived with me.
“Whose apartment?”
We could not tell from the bank statement alone.
I thought of Cassandra’s new business.
Maybe storage.
Maybe employee housing.
I stopped guessing.
Facts first.
Then came the first real power shift.
Casco Bay Credit Union formally canceled the HELOC application.
Their fraud unit confirmed no credit line existed.
My house could not be pledged through that file.
The salon bank removed Thomas as authorized user after I documented sole ownership of the LLC and changed corporate resolutions.
The merchant account locked down.
Payroll permissions changed.
QuickBooks was clean.
The money was not recovered.
But the leak stopped.
At three, Thomas called Denise.
She put him on speaker.
“This is Thomas Carter. Why can’t I access the books?”
Denise looked at me.
I nodded.
“Mara revoked your user authorization.”
“You can’t do that.”
“She owns the company.”
“I manage the finances.”
“Not anymore.”
“She doesn’t understand half of what she’s doing.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Hi, Thomas.”
Silence.
Then:
“Mara.”
“You were saying?”
“This is childish.”
“No. Childish was your mother giving a five-year-old rice while eating lobster he was promised.”
“Again with the lobster.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my staff through the glass partition.
Three stylists working.
A shampoo assistant folding towels.
People whose paychecks came from a business Thomas planned to sell for $25,000.
“I’m closing all financial access effective immediately.”
“You can’t just cut off the household.”
“I’m paying the mortgage and utilities directly.”
“What about Mom?”
“She can pay her own expenses.”
“She lives with us.”
“For now.”
His voice sharpened.
“Don’t threaten my mother.”
“I’m not. I’m learning Maine tenancy law.”
That silenced him.
Beatrice had lived in my house for eighteen months and received mail there.
I could not throw her belongings onto the lawn.
I could start the proper process once my lawyer advised me.
Thomas said, “You think a lawyer makes you powerful.”
“No.”
I looked at the canceled HELOC notice.
“It makes me slower.”
“What?”
“And slow is turning out to be good for me.”
I hung up.
At six, Erin called.
Thomas’s attorney had proposed temporary parenting time.
Saturday morning through Sunday evening.
I agreed.
Not because Thomas deserved a favor.
Because Oliver loved him.
Then Erin said, “One more thing.”
“What?”
“The divorce complaint includes a proposed property settlement.”
“He proposed one before serving me?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
She read.
Thomas would waive claims against my house.
In exchange, I would transfer forty percent of Harbor & Pine to Cassandra and assume responsibility for the pending Carter Coastal debt “as previously agreed.”
I laughed.
“He wants me to buy my own freedom.”
“That’s one interpretation.”
“It’s the correct one.”
“Probably.”
“Can they enforce that?”
“Not without proving an agreement.”
“There isn’t one.”
“Good.”
Then Erin lowered her voice.
“Mara, I think you should see the date on the draft.”
“What date?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Before the lobster dinner.
Before the bank appointment.
Before I knew Cass & Coast existed.
May you like
Thomas had already decided what he wanted from the divorce.
The only thing still missing was my signature.
