Chapter 7 - The Cost of Being Useful
Saturday morning arrived with rain that turned the driveway outside Margaret's house into a ribbon of dark pavement. I arrived early, carrying a bag of groceries Corinne had mentioned needing during the previous visit. She accepted it without comment, then showed me the feeding notes for the day.
Owen had been unsettled overnight. His feeding schedule had shifted, and Corinne had slept in short stretches while Margaret helped when she could. I offered to take the first part of the morning routine so Corinne could rest.
She hesitated.
“I can manage.”
“I know you can. I'm offering to help.”
She looked toward the bedroom, where Owen had just begun to stir. “You can prepare the bottle. I'll stay here.”
I followed the instructions, checking the measurements twice. When I returned, Corinne was already seated with Owen. I placed the bottle within reach and sat beside her while she fed him, ready to take over when she asked.
Afterward, she went upstairs to shower. Margaret stayed in the room while I held Owen, watching me with the quiet attention of someone who expected mistakes but was willing to see whether I had learned.
“You don't need to look so worried,” she said. “Babies aren't made of glass.”
“I know. He just seems so small.”
“He is small. That doesn't mean you have to be afraid of every breath.”
I smiled despite myself. “You sound like the nurse.”
“The nurse is sensible.”
For a few minutes, the room felt almost ordinary. Margaret showed me a photograph of Corinne as a baby, asleep in a wicker cradle with one hand curled beneath her chin. I had seen the picture before, but never looked closely enough to notice the tiny embroidered blanket tucked around her.
“She hated being put down,” Margaret said. “If I moved away, she'd wake up and complain until I came back.”
I glanced at Owen. “Maybe he gets that from her.”
“Maybe. But he has his own personality. You'll learn it if you're around long enough.”
The comment stayed with me for the rest of the day.
At noon, Daniel called. The receiver had reviewed my proposed reimbursement and requested additional documentation concerning several travel expenses. The bank was willing to discuss a restructuring arrangement, but only after the company completed a clearer accounting of the disputed transactions.
I asked whether there was anything I could do to speed the process.
“Provide accurate information and avoid contacting people who might be witnesses without guidance,” Daniel said. “I know you're frustrated, but you cannot treat this like a negotiation in which the loudest person gets the best terms.”
I had no intention of arguing with him. Still, I asked whether I could contact Martin.
“Not about the disputed records. If he reaches out, refer him to counsel.”
That afternoon, Martin called anyway. His voice sounded strained.
“Grant, I need to talk to you. The receiver has been asking questions about the project expenses. They're looking at approvals I made based on your instructions.”
“Daniel told me not to discuss the records with you.”
“I'm not asking you to discuss the records. I'm asking whether you're going to tell them I was following your direction.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter. “I will tell them what happened.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is the only honest answer I can give you.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he reminded me of a meeting six months earlier when he had questioned a large travel expense. I remembered it clearly. I had told him the trip was necessary to maintain investor relationships and that he should stop making routine decisions difficult.
“You said you would take responsibility,” Martin said.
“I did. And I should have paid for the trip personally.”
“Now the company may lose contracts. People could lose their jobs.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because you were the one who told me to classify the expenses.”
His words landed with uncomfortable accuracy. I had spent years making decisions quickly and leaving other people to turn them into paperwork. When the decisions were profitable, I took the credit. When they became liabilities, I expected the paperwork to protect me.
“I'll cooperate with the review,” I said. “I won't lie about what I instructed you to do, but I won't claim to know what you knew unless the evidence supports it.”
Martin ended the call without saying goodbye.
That evening, I returned to my apartment and reviewed my personal finances with Daniel's assistant. I had savings, but not enough to repay every disputed expense immediately while also meeting the obligations guaranteed by my personal assets. The apartment was temporary, the company accounts remained restricted, and the bank had not yet agreed to a final restructuring plan.
For the first time, I considered selling some of the things I had bought during the years when money seemed endless. Watches, a sports car, furniture from the estate that I had stored in a private warehouse. None of it would restore my reputation, but the proceeds could help cover the repayment.
I asked Daniel to determine which assets I could sell without violating the court orders or creditor restrictions.
Then I called the company receiver and offered to surrender several discretionary benefits while the review continued. She accepted the offer but warned me that it would not determine the outcome of the financial proceedings.
I understood.
The hardest decision came on Sunday, when Corinne asked whether I could cover an additional afternoon visit. She had a follow-up appointment of her own and wanted to avoid bringing Owen along if Margaret was available to help.
I had a meeting scheduled with a potential lender who might have been able to support a restructuring proposal. The meeting was important. If it went well, it could help preserve several development projects and protect employees who had nothing to do with my misconduct.
I looked at the calendar, then called the lender's office to ask whether the meeting could be moved.
It could not.
I called Corinne back. “I can take Owen in the morning, but I can't cover the afternoon.”
She was quiet. “All right. I'll ask my mother.”
“I know this is inconvenient. I should have checked before agreeing to the lender meeting.”
“Yes, you should have.”
I expected her to say more, but she simply ended the call after confirming the morning time.
The next day, I attended the lender meeting. I told them about the financial review and the restrictions on my authority. I did not attempt to minimize the personal expenses or imply that the company had been falsely accused. The lender listened, then explained that any further support would depend on the receiver's assessment and the bank's approval.
There was no dramatic breakthrough.
When I arrived at Margaret's house the following morning, Corinne was feeding Owen. She looked tired, but she had arranged the appointment and the care without me.
“I heard your meeting didn't produce an agreement,” she said.
“Not yet.”
“I'm sorry.”
I looked at her, surprised.
She shrugged slightly. “I don't want the company to collapse. I just don't want you to use that possibility as a reason to avoid everything else.”
“I won't.”
She handed me Owen's care notes.
May you like
“Then let's see whether you can keep doing both.”
It was not an easy promise to fulfill. It was, however, a fair one.
