Chapter 6
Tasha remembered that day clearly.
She had gone in for a procedure, and I had driven her home afterward. I sent Priya the appointment confirmation, the parking receipt, and messages Tasha and I exchanged while we waited.
“Could Megan still claim she brought the papers to you there?” Priya asked.
“She said she brought them to my bakery during lunch.”
“Then her account conflicts with what we can document. We’ll give her lawyer the information and ask how the signature was obtained.”
I wondered whether she had expected me to check the date.
For years, Megan had counted on me to believe her first. She must have thought I would still do it when my own name was at stake.
Daniel came to the bakery after closing. June had gone home. I let him in because I wanted answers, not another evening imagining them.
We sat at a table beneath the bucket catching the last drops from the ceiling.
“I asked Megan about the date,” he said.
“What did she say?”
“She says she got it wrong.”
“Did she admit I never signed?”
“No. She said she might have brought it another day.”
“She told Priya she brought it during lunch on that exact day.”
“I know.”
He looked up at the stained ceiling.
“I told myself she was careless. I’m starting to think she expected us not to check.”
“She knew we needed the roof money.”
“I knew that too.”
I waited.
Daniel took a breath.
“I liked being the person who made her studio possible. She praised me for taking a chance. With you, I knew I’d have to answer questions about how we could afford it.”
“Those questions mattered.”
“They did.”
“Did you have feelings for her?”
He looked at me.
“I liked her attention. I thought about it more than I should have.”
It hurt to hear him say it. It was also the first answer that felt complete.
“Did you want to leave me?”
“No. I never made a plan to leave. I kept telling myself none of it meant anything because we hadn’t kissed.”
“You gave her our money. You gave her my name on a document. You told her our private arguments.”
“I know.”
I looked at the bakery I had opened with my mother ten years earlier. Mom had mixed dough in that kitchen before we could afford another employee. Daniel knew what the place meant to me.
“You let me stand under a leaking roof and worry about paying for it,” I said. “Then you smiled at her across Lena’s table.”
His eyes filled.
“I don’t know how to ask you to forgive that.”
“Don’t ask me tonight.”
He nodded.
Before leaving, he gave me copies of every message he had exchanged with Megan about the loan and the studio. He said Priya could have them.
After he left, I read them with my office door closed.
Most were about the business. Some were not.
Megan had told him I was “married to the bakery.” She said he deserved someone who noticed his ideas. Daniel had written back that I was working hard and he knew it.
Then he kept replying.
That was the part I could not get past. He had known enough to defend me once and still let Megan become the person he complained to.
Priya called the next morning.
Megan had retained a lawyer. Through that lawyer, she offered to return five thousand dollars immediately if I agreed not to pursue the signature issue.
“No,” I said.
“I expected that,” Priya replied. “We’ll respond.”
The contractor patched another section of the roof. I paid him from the bakery’s operating reserve, then sat with June to plan around the remaining work.
June pointed to the holiday catering calendar.
“If we confirm these orders, we can put down the deposit for the full repair in January.”
“We can’t take more than we can make.”
“I know. I’m offering two extra mornings. My niece wants shifts too.”
“You’ve already helped so much.”
“I care about this place.”
I thought of Daniel saying I was married to the bakery. I had worked too many evenings, and we should have talked about that. But June’s offer reminded me that the bakery was more than an excuse to avoid my marriage. It was work we had built with care.
That evening, Ryan sent me a message.
Megan had told him she was returning the full loan. He asked if that was true.
I replied, She has offered five thousand. My lawyer is asking for the rest.
He called at once.
“She told me she’d paid you back yesterday.”
“She hasn’t.”
There was a long pause.
“I need to show my lawyer something,” he said. “She used our shared account for several studio purchases. I thought she was paying us back from sales, but the studio isn’t open.”
I gripped the phone.
May you like
“Ryan, be careful.”
“I am. I’m done accepting her word without records.”
