Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Kept the Books
Grandma drove us to the bakery without asking. Its windows were dark except for the emergency light above the back exit. Snow dusted the awning, and the familiar painted bell on the sign swung in the wind.
"Who sent the picture?" Grandma asked.
"No name. Just a private email account."
"Someone wants you to find out."
I unlocked the office with Mom's old brass key. The steel cash box was missing from the cabinet, exactly where it had sat for years. The cabinet shelves were still dusty except for one clean rectangle.
A figure moved behind the frosted office window. I nearly screamed.
"It's me," a woman called. "Rina."
Rina Ortiz had worked our books since I was eleven. She stood in the doorway wearing snow boots and a quilted jacket, her gray braid pulled over one shoulder.
"I saw June's car. Thank God."
"Did you email me?" I asked.
She nodded. "I didn't know who else to trust. Your father's been changing passwords. I made paper copies before I lost access."
She spread invoices across the office desk. The company named on them—Golden Grove Events—had charged the bakery for repairs, catering equipment, and emergency consulting. The amounts were always under ten thousand dollars.
"They looked like normal vendor bills," Rina said. "Until I called the address. It's a mailbox store."
Grandma adjusted her glasses. "How much?"
"Forty-two thousand from the repair fund. Another thirty-one from operating accounts."
Seventy-three thousand dollars. Enough to put a new roof over the building, repair both ovens, and keep every employee paid through January.
"Who owns Golden Grove?" I asked.
Rina hesitated. "Grant Kessler. Corinne's brother."
The names had blurred into one awful shape. The late-night phone call. The box. The forged signature. A buyer conveniently promising to make the debts disappear.
"Why didn't you tell Dad?"
"I did." Rina looked miserable. "He told me Corinne had receipts and that I was making trouble. Yesterday he ordered me to turn over my keys."
A noise came from the alley, followed by the scrape of tires on snow.
Rina moved toward the light switch, but Grandma caught her wrist.
May you like
A shadow paused outside the rear door. Then someone slipped a white envelope through the mail slot.
On the front, in thick black marker, someone had written: STOP DIGGING OR YOU'LL LOSE MORE THAN THE BAKERY.
