That quieted the table.
Michael’s eyes moved toward the folder.
“What?”
I opened it.
Inside were years of printed transfers, account summaries, notes, dates, amounts, and promises.
I had organized them the way Robert used to organize bills: chronological, clipped by category, totals written in the margins.
Tom shifted in his chair.
Lisa leaned forward.
Michael’s face lost some color.
I began with the simplest page.
“Tom, your account received the first fifteen hundred dollars for the mortgage.
Then another two thousand three months later.
Then car work.
Credit cards.
The vacation contribution.
Several smaller transfers.”
Tom interrupted.
“You offered some of that.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you acting like I stole it?”
“I am not calling you a thief.
I am showing you what I gave.”
I turned to Lisa’s pages.
“Three thousand during the job transition.
Rent support after that.
Bills.
Medical costs.
Other transfers.”
Lisa looked down.
Then Michael.
His section was the thickest because the venture transfer alone had been fifty thousand dollars.
I placed my finger on the figure.
“This was supposed to be seed money.”
“It was.”
“You told me there would be a written business plan.”
“There was a plan.”
“I never received one.”
“It changed.”
“Did the company launch?”
He hesitated.
“Not in the original form.”
“Did any of this come back?”
Another pause.
“No.”
I closed that section.
“Across the three of you, the total is just over two hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
Lisa whispered, “That can’t be right.”
I pushed the calculator toward her.
“Check it.”
She did not touch it.
Tom rubbed his hands over his face.
“You never said you were keeping score.”
Robert would have had an answer ready for that.
I heard it in my head so clearly I almost smiled.
Numbers are not scores.
They are facts.
