Glen took his feet off the desk.
The forensic accountant was a woman named Patricia Lowe. I had hired her in June, quietly, after the second time payroll was late. She spent four months going through every transfer Glen had made. Every reimbursement with no receipt. Every little amount marked office supplies, travel, client dinner. Her final report came to one hundred and eighty seven thousand dollars over eleven months.
The bank froze the account at nine that morning after I brought them the report. And the lawyer Glen had so helpfully suggested I hire was the same lawyer who had already called him twice, because I had hired him too.
Our office manager, Denise, was still standing in the doorway. She had been the one telling four people their checks were delayed, over and over, without knowing why.
A year of being the partner who does not trust anyone, and it turned out I had trusted exactly the wrong one.
Glen did not argue. He asked if he could talk to his own lawyer. I said of course.
It took two months. Glen agreed to dissolve the partnership and sign over his half of the company. He also agreed to a repayment plan, with his house as security, and the lawyer made sure it was airtight. There were no criminal charges, because I did not want four employees testifying in a courtroom for a year. I wanted them paid.
So the first thing I did, the same afternoon the account was frozen, was go to my own bank. I took out a loan against my house. I paid all four employees every dollar they were owed, plus a week extra, that Friday.
Denise cried when she handed out the envelopes. One of our guys, a young father named Andre, had been two months behind on his rent. He hugged me in the parking lot and did not let go for a while.
The first six months after were hard. I did the work of two partners. Some nights I slept on the couch in the office. But the money stopped leaking, and for the first time in a year, the numbers made sense.
By spring, the company was stable. By summer, it was growing. We hired two more people.
In the fall, I asked Denise to lunch. She had been with us since the first year. She knew every client by name and every account by heart. She was the one who kept the place running when I could not.
I offered her a share of the company. Not as a gift. As a partner.
She stared at me for a long time. Then she said, are you sure you trust me?
I said, Denise, you were the only one who ever asked where the money went.
Glen sends a check every month. His payments are on time. The lawyer made sure of that.
Our payroll has not been late once since. Every Friday at noon, Denise walks the envelopes around herself. She says it is her favorite part of the week.