Chapter 4 - THE FAMILY BUSINESS WAS HIDING SOMETHING
My father stared at Marcus.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Robert laughed.
It was a familiar laugh.
The one he used whenever he wanted a difficult question to sound foolish.
"You're making a mountain out of nothing."
Marcus didn't smile.
"Dad, I handle our vendor accounts. Gray Finch isn't one of our regular customers."
"Because it's a new trade name."
"For what?"
"Event services."
Marcus looked at the invoice again.
"We print brochures and packaging. We don't provide luxury transportation."
Robert's eyes narrowed.
"Watch your tone."
I stepped between them.
"Enough. We don't have to settle this tonight."
My father looked relieved.
He shouldn't have.
"Marcus," I continued, "can we review the business records tomorrow? Only the accounts you're authorized to access."
My brother nodded.
Robert pointed at me.
"You're not bringing your government investigators into my business."
"I'm not using government resources, Dad. I'm asking my brother questions about the family company."
"It's my company."
"And it's my stolen credit."
Nobody challenged that.
Not even Vanessa.
By midnight, the rehearsal dinner had collapsed.
Some relatives left without saying goodbye.
Others hugged my parents as if they were grieving.
Only Rachel came directly to me.
She squeezed my hand.
"I saved the original recording," she whispered. "I won't post it anywhere. But I'll give it to whoever needs it."
"Thank you."
She hesitated.
"Sarah, I'm sorry I laughed at first. I thought Vanessa was joking."
"I know."
"No. I should have stopped laughing when you stopped."
That apology meant more than she understood.
The following morning, I met Marcus at Oak Street Press.
The old brick building stood between an auto repair shop and a bakery.
Our grandmother, Rose Mitchell, had started the business with one printing machine and a secondhand delivery van.
As children, we had spent summers there, folding brochures and sorting envelopes.
I hadn't visited in almost three years.
The place looked smaller than I remembered.
Half the loading dock was empty.
The front office smelled of dust and old coffee.
Marcus unlocked his office.
"Dad doesn't know you're here yet."
"You're allowed to review these records?"
"I'm the operations manager. And I've been asking questions about our finances for months."
He opened the company accounting system.
I stayed on the opposite side of the desk, letting him navigate.
Within minutes, he found the payments.
Two deposits.
$41,800.
$20,000.
Both entered as revenue from Gray Finch Event Services.
Both associated with wedding-related invoices.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"That explains the money that suddenly appeared in August."
"What happened in August?"
"Dad told me he'd secured new event-printing contracts."
He opened another report.
Our family business had been struggling for almost two years.
Several longtime customers had moved their printing overseas.
A commercial loan had become expensive.
Suppliers were demanding payment before delivering materials.
And the company was weeks behind on payroll.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
Marcus looked ashamed.
"Because every time I suggested asking you for help, Dad said you wouldn't want to be bothered."
I stared at him.
"He told you that?"
"He said you liked keeping your money separate from the family."
I almost laughed.
For years, I'd been told Marcus resented my career.
Apparently, he'd been told I resented his problems.
My father had kept us apart with two different versions of the same lie.
Marcus showed me the outgoing payments.
Some of the Gray Finch money had gone toward overdue business obligations.
But the records weren't clear enough to establish where every dollar ended up.
I felt sick.
Vanessa had stolen from me to finance her wedding.
Now it appeared my father had received some of that money through the family business.
Before we could discuss it further, Marcus's nine-year-old daughter, June, appeared in the doorway.
She was carrying a backpack decorated with purple stars.
"Daddy, Grandma said you forgot my lunch."
Marcus checked the time.
"Oh, sweetheart."
June noticed me.
"Aunt Sarah!"
She hurried over and hugged me.
I held her longer than usual.
"Hey, pumpkin."
"Are you still coming to my science fair Monday?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
She smiled.
Then she looked at her father.
"Why is everybody upset about Aunt Vanessa's wedding?"
Marcus and I exchanged a glance.
"Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes," I told her.
"Big ones?"
"Sometimes."
June considered that.
"Then they should say sorry."
I kissed the top of her head.
"You're absolutely right."
After Marcus took her to the break room, I turned back toward the financial records.
"Your father needs to explain this."
A voice answered from behind me.
"Then ask me."
Robert stood in the doorway.
He looked exhausted.
Older than he had the night before.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. "But I was trying to keep this business alive."
"With my credit cards?"
"I thought you had agreed to help."
I stared at him.
"You never asked me."
"I didn't have to."
"Why not?"
May you like
His next words chilled me.
"Because your mother told me you'd already said yes."
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