Our business-interruption insurer wanted proof that my absence had directly caused each lost contract, as though I could photograph a customer deciding not to wait.
I moved funds from the reserve account to cover wages.
That left less than a week before the mortgage payment.
The new haul-out deposit was due next month.
I could delay the expansion.
I could sell the station wagon.
I could borrow against the building.
I could not let Noah see panic every time he asked whether his job was safe.
His job was safe.
Everything else could burn before I took that from him.
An email arrived from our primary parts supplier.
ACCOUNT ON HOLD PENDING PAYMENT.
I closed it.
Caleb appeared in the doorway.
“You look murderous.”
“I’m considering a career change.”
“To what?”
“Crime.”
“You have the temperament. Not the flexibility.”
I handed him the printed order list.
“We can’t get the relay assemblies until the account is cleared.”
“When?”
“End of the week.”
“We need them tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Caleb studied my face.
“How bad?”
“Manageable.”
“That means bad.”
“It means I’m managing it.”
