Chapter 100 - The Account Still Open
The bank statement listed a company called North Harbor Custodial Services.
It had been incorporated shortly before the dock purchase and dissolved less than a year later, according to the public registry. Yet the account remained open under a successor name.
The accountant requested the full statement through counsel. The bank confirmed the account existed but would not release its ownership records without a court order or consent from the authorized parties.
The account number matched the one shown in the ledger.
“So the balance might still be there?” I asked.
“It might,” Elena said. “We don’t know whether the account was active, closed, or transferred. The bank’s confirmation gives us a current trail.”
My father’s attorney said Charles had never controlled North Harbor Custodial Services. Adrian’s attorney said his client had managed the account at the direction of the trustees. The foundation’s records listed neither explanation.
The board filed a request for a court order compelling the bank to produce the account history and the identity of its signatories. The hearing was scheduled for two weeks later.
At the center, Ruth continued the evening classes. She had begun teaching participants how to request their own records and verify who had permission to receive them. The new form was simple. It asked people to choose their preferred address and list any authorized contacts themselves.
One participant stopped me after class.
“Do you think the center will stay open?”
“I hope so,” I said. “The board is protecting the programs while the records are reviewed.”
“I like that you don’t promise what you can’t know.”
I thanked her. It was the kind of honesty Anne had tried to put on paper.
Dominic’s company placed the second dock payment into escrow. The seller agreed not to challenge the move while the funding source was examined. It put pressure on Dominic’s plans, but he told his board the property could wait.
“Can your company absorb the delay?” I asked him later.
“It can.”
“Will your shareholders accept that?”
“They’ll ask questions.”
“And what will you tell them?”
“The truth. Our company paid for the dock, and another payment may have come from a restricted reserve. We’re holding the disputed amount until the source is resolved.”
He took my hand. “You don’t have to feel responsible for the time this takes.”
“I know. I still feel responsible for the people who use that dock.”
“So do I.”
Madison began attending every board review as an individual member, not as Charles’s representative. Rebecca gave a sworn statement about writing “Hold pending notice.” She said she had followed Charles’s instruction, believing the notice would be sent. Charles did not deny asking her to write it.
No one had yet explained the initials on the amendment or the newer ink on Anne’s card.
The independent examiner compared the unknown handwriting against records from Adrian, Charles, Rebecca, and the former business partner. The first report excluded Rebecca and Charles as the author of the added line. Adrian’s writing was similar but not conclusive.
That left the former partner, whose name had appeared on the invoice and on the access log.
He had not responded to Nora’s latest request.
The court granted the order for the bank records. The bank would provide the account’s full ownership history, transfer instructions, and any closure documents.
I thought the next step would be waiting for the records.
Then Madison called from the foundation office.
“They found a letter in the board chair’s old files,” she said. “It was addressed to Mom. It came from the former business partner.”
“Is it dated?”
“Yes. It’s from the week after the reserve transfer.”
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t opened it. The chair wants counsel there.”
I closed my eyes. Another sealed page. Another decision waiting for me in someone else’s hands.
“Keep it sealed,” I told her. “I’m coming.”
When Dominic and I reached the office, Nora and the records custodian were already there. The envelope bore Anne’s name and the partner’s return address. The postmark was clear.
The date was three weeks after Anne’s approval page had supposedly been signed.
The custodian photographed the envelope, then opened it along the edge.
Inside was a short letter.
The first line read:
Anne, the transfer was never temporary.
May you like
Beneath it, the writer had added:
Charles knows why. Ask him about the second signature.
