Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I da drove to the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers with a frantic gleam in her eyes. She parked and did her makeup in the rearview mirror, adding another layer of deodorant. She hadn’t bothered to shower that morning as she’d been too frantic, tearing through Nantucket Sunset Cruisers’ files and contracts, trying to make sense of what the insurance company had told her: We thought you had insufficient funds.
Why would they think that? What did they know that Ida didn’t know?
Ida tried to call Shelby a few times that morning but reasoned that Shelby was working hard, tending to clients, and talking to staff members. It wasn’t till nine that Ida appeared on the dock and discovered Shelby with her familiar bright smile, talking to a few high rollers about their upcoming sunset cruise later that week. They’d stopped by the docks to say hello.
Ida thought It’s just like every other day. Nothing is wrong. We’re going to get this worked out.
Shelby shook the client’s hand, turned, and discovered Ida waiting for her at the edge of the dock. Her lips curved into a beautiful smile. She was still wearing that lipstick Ida had picked up for her in Manhattan, and her blond bob was fluffy and wild from the Nantucket winds.
“Can I talk to you?” Ida asked. Her voice caught in her throat.
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t.”
Ida led Shelby back to the office. Shelby furrowed her brow and cupped her hands together. She looked nervous, the way she had prior to midterm exams during their university, the way she had before they’d asked for a loan from the bank to secure another fleet of yachts.
Ida and Shelby were accustomed to handling nerve-wracking things together. This is just another frantic chapter. Another thing to tackle side-by-side.
“I called the insurance company last night,” Ida began.
Shelby’s face burst with panic. “I was waiting to call till they opened this morning! And then I got sidetracked. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. We both have a million things to do. Things slip through the cracks,” Ida said.
Ida explained that the insurance company said they hadn’t received their funds and that, apparently, they weren’t currently insured.
“But I’m going to argue tooth and nail against this,” Ida said. “We have to make sure everything is back up and running when Mr. Grayson files a claim.”
Or else rang through her ear.
“But I spent this morning going through our files,” Ida said. “I went through all our bank statements and everything in the shared documents you uploaded. It looks like everything is accounted for. I couldn’t find anything amiss?”
Shelby nodded furiously. “I’ve updated everything just like always. Every deposit. Every paycheck. Every insurance bill.”
“Exactly. You have the receipts. You have the records. We’re fine.” Ida collapsed in the chair beside her computer and rubbed her temples.
Shelby sat down and reached for Ida’s hand. She squeezed it hard, the way they’d always done when they were preparing for a test or an essay or a date with someone special. Shelby’s eyes were illuminated.
“We’re going to get through this,” Shelby said.
“I know. I just feel so weird.” Ida sighed. “Do we know what happened to Mrs. Grayson?”
“She was in surgery last night,” Shelby said. “The rumor is that she’s resting comfortably at the hospital.”
Ida wrinkled her nose. Surgery wasn’t the best news. But if she was resting comfortably, maybe good news was on the horizon.
There was a knock on the door. Shelby popped up immediately. “Shoot! Shoot, shoot.” She hurried to open it. On the other side was her husband, Malcolm, who smiled in and waved at Ida.
“Hey, Malcolm,” Ida said, flashing a pretend smile.
“Hey, honey!” Shelby rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.
“Did you forget?” Malcolm asked.
“No? I mean, not really.” Shelby laughed and reached for her cardigan. “Ida, we said we’d go with Anthony to check on this car he wants to buy.”
“Oh!” Ida grimaced and thought, can’t Malcolm do that by himself? But then she remembered what Shelby and she had always said: We own our own business, we make our own schedules, and we are always there for our families.
“I’ll probably be back in a few hours,” Shelby assured her. “We can talk more.”
“I’ll call the insurance company again,” Ida said. “Maybe they’ll clue me into what happened.”
“What did happen?” Malcolm asked.
“We had an accident last night,” Shelby said. “And the insurance company is saying we owe them money.”
“Idiots,” Malcolm said. “Don’t let them yank you around.” He pointed at Ida. “And let me know if you want a man to call them.”
Ida glared at him. She hated nothing more than when a man insinuated that she couldn’t do her job. “Thanks, Malcolm,” she said. Her tone was dark.
Shelby and Malcolm disappeared after that, leaving Ida alone. Ida shivered and cupped her elbows.
Because she knew how much it bothered her, Shelby didn’t wait long to text:
Sorry about what Malcolm said. He just wants to help.
IDA: I know.
SHELBY: He knows we’re killing it.
IDA: Haha. I don’t feel like we’re killing it right now.
SHELBY: It’s just a fluke. Why don’t you take the day off?
IDA: Yeah. Right.
SHELBY: :P
Ida called the insurance company and got on the phone with the woman she remembered from college—the same one who’d emailed her late last night. Ida’s heart thumped with fear. But she kept her voice sickly sweet.
“I got your email,” Ida said. “I have so many questions.”
Ida proceeded to explain to the woman at the insurance company that she had records of payment, that it was clear they should have been insured, and that it was outrageous that they said the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers would be at the mercy of the Graysons’ claim.
But the woman at the insurance company said, “I don’t know how to help you. We don’t have the funds.”
“Tell me how much we owe,” Ida said.
“Seventy-nine thousand.”
Ida inhaled sharply. “Why am I looking at receipts right now that indicate we paid everything in full?”
“I don’t know what you’re looking at,” the woman said. “But I can assure you that you haven’t had coverage all summer long.”
Ida filled her lungs. The room spun around her. After a long pause, she said, “Can I call you back?”
Seventy-nine thousand. It wasn’t a completely outrageous amount, she supposed. They surely had that in the bank. Surely, they did. But if the money hadn’t gone from their account to the insurance company, where had it gone?
There was a mistake. Maybe I missed something.
Ida pored over the documents a final time and then proceeded to the online banking system she and Shelby had agreed on last year. She entered their username and password and received an ERROR: WRONG PASSWORD message. She arched her brow, then spun her chair around to grab the little notebook in which Shelby had listed all of their passwords. It wasn’t exactly “good” or “safe” that they listed them like that, but Shelby and Ida had a difficult time not trusting everyone they came across.
Maybe that was wrong, Ida thought now. Maybe somebody is double-crossing us.
But who?
Ida tried to call Shelby to get the new password, but Shelby didn’t answer.
Annoyed, Ida shot up from her desk chair, grabbed her car keys, and hurried out to the parking lot. It was an annoyingly steamy day, the sun dropping through humidity thick as a milkshake. Ida dropped into her car and remembered her daughter with a jolt; she remembered she had an interview in Manhattan that day. An interview that could make or break her future career.
Ida considered texting her daughter to lend a final congratulations. But then she remembered how annoyed Frankie had seemed lately when Ida was too kind to her. It was as though Frankie assumed all kindness toward her equated to pity.
Ida parked outside the bank. Her phone buzzed. What was it now , she thought. But she raised her chin and forced herself to read the message from the caterers last night, wondering about their tip envelopes. A chill went through Ida’s belly.
IDA: I’m at the bank right now. I’ll be at the office all afternoon and early evening. Come pick them up whenever you want.
IDA: Pass it on to the others.
IDA: Thank you for your patience!
Ida shot into the bank, her heels clacking. The redhead behind the till was a woman Ida recognized from her dealings with the bank going back fifteen years. When was the last time Ida herself had come to the bank? Ordinarily, Shelby handled everything via online banking, and their tips often came directly from cash payments made by the clients themselves.
“Hello,” Ida said, sounding breathless as she approached the bank teller.
The bank teller wore a strange smile. Her lipstick was a heinous orange-red. Ida wondered why friends of the bank teller hadn’t told her that color wasn’t doing her any favors.
“Hi there,” the teller said. “How can I help you today?”
“I’d love to cross-check something,” Ida said, touching the back of her neck. Her fingers were dotted with sweat. She told the bank teller the account number for her company and swallowed the lump in her throat. She explained that she wanted to see the funds leaving her account to pay for liability insurance during the months of April, May, June, and July.
“I’m afraid the health insurance company got something wrong,” she explained. “And I couldn’t log into my online banking at home. Is there a way to change that password here? With you? Now?”
The bank teller made a face that told Ida she was asking too many questions at once that she sounded frantic.
The teller printed bank statements from April, May, June, and July. Four months. She stacked the pages, stapled them, and then placed them on the counter between them.
Ida bowed her head and searched through the statements for any record of payments to the same insurance company they’d hired nearly fifteen years ago.
It was true that the funds were leaving the account. It was the same amount set aside for the insurance company, and it left every month on the first, like clockwork.
But the funds weren’t headed to the insurance company.
They were headed somewhere else. A company name Ida had never seen before.
Ida’s heart pounded. She pointed at the name—TYSON ROGERS ADVERTISING—and blinked up at the teller. “Who is this?”
The bank teller raised her shoulders. “That isn’t something I know anything about. The funds were sent via online bank transfer.”
Ida’s tongue felt heavy and dry. The room swirled. She continued to flip through the bank statements, which had begun to look like a stream of numbers and letters and funds, so many funds that left the account like water dripping from a leaky faucet. Her heart pounded.
Where is the money going?
Ida was no expert in finances, but it was clear to her that more money was leaving per month than staying behind. Obviously, there were the typical expenses—paychecks for their yacht captains, paychecks for themselves, and paychecks for the catering staff. But there was other stuff Ida didn’t recognize. And more and more of it seemed to drip out and into the account for Tyson Rogers Advertising.
When did we hire an advertising service?
Ida and Shelby had sprung for their fair share of advertising over the years. They’d had radio advertisements, television commercials, and billboards. They’d done stuff on social media. But often enough, word of mouth was the single greatest reason people signed up for a cruise with Nantucket Sunset. That knowledge alone was enough to give Ida pause. Why would either of them have paid so much money for advertising—when it was so clear it didn’t work?
That was when Ida reached the last page. Upon this page, the full amount is in the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers account.
It was a little less than forty-five thousand dollars.
Ida felt her heart drop into her stomach.
The bank teller was talking, but Ida couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. Her voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance, perhaps from through a cushioned wall. Ida continued to stare down at that number.
We can’t pay the insurance company right now.
We’re uninsured.
We can’t protect ourselves.
Ida realized that all this time, she’d imagined herself saving the day. She’d imagined it would go swiftly and easily. She’d imagined herself getting to the bottom of what was wrong, paying the insurance company what they said was still needed— seventy-nine thousand , and fielding the Grayson insurance claim with the ease of a woman who’d handled a high-rolling Nantucket tourism business for the better part of her adult life.
Instead, her business was nearly washed up.
But how?
“Ida?” the bank teller’s voice finally reached her. “Ida, would you like a glass of water?”
Ida’s knees clacked together. She folded the bank statements and printouts and set her jaw. She wanted to appear put-together; she wanted to seem as though this was expected, as though she’d fully known how much money was in her account.
“Thank you again,” she said to the bank teller. She then twisted around and hurried back to her car. It felt as though the universe was melting. As though she’d soon turn to goop.
Ida got in the car and returned to the parking lot near the docks. She focused on her breathing as she inhaled and exhaled but soon found herself in the midst of a terrible panic attack. Her hands and legs shook, and she couldn’t breathe. A few tourists walked past, and a teenager peered into her car curiously, but Ida flashed a strained smile and pretended to look through her glove box for something.
That was when she remembered the money she needed for the catering staff.
Ida’s guts twisted.
Instead of returning to the bank, Ida went to the ATM and withdrew cash from her joint account with Rick. It was only two thousand dollars; it couldn’t hurt them. Not fully. And she didn’t want to touch the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers account until she understood what was going wrong.
Ida returned to the office and put the money in envelopes that she then labeled with the catering and staff members’ names, those who’d graciously agreed to work their boss’s father’s birthday cruise.
Immediately after she sealed the final envelope, a couple of the staff members knocked to retrieve their cash. Ida popped up, greeting them with a voice that didn’t sound like her own.
“Sorry for the delay,” she said. “I hope you’re enjoying your day off?”
She passed off envelopes, asked about romantic partners and children, asked about plans later that day, and asked if their summers were going well or as planned. With each conversation, Ida’s heart pounded with the horror of this newfound reality. We’re going to have to close our doors, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why.
That’s when she remembered Malcolm.
After the final envelope was collected, Ida locked the door and pressed out the bank statements to compare them to the statements in her and Shelby’s shared files online. The documents were entirely different. Entirely off.
But Ida knew that Malcolm had access, too. He’d helped them numerous times over the years, throwing in his two cents when the business began to falter.
Rick had access, too. But Ida trusted Rick. Rick was her rock.
And Ida had never trusted Malcolm.
Malcolm’s been faking the documents.
The thought rattled through her. She filled her lungs and closed her eyes.
How am I going to tell Shelby?
It was a horrible accusation. It was also the only explanation Ida could find right now. Now that the business was on the brink of failure. Now that everything they’d worked for was going down the drain.
At that very moment, an email came through from the insurance company.
Ida,
I wanted to let you know. Mr. Grayson has contacted us regarding the incident aboard your vessel last night. As I’ve already explained, you were uninsured through us at the time of the accident. Were you, by chance, insured via another insurance company instead? If so, I will pass that information on to Mr. Grayson.
Thinking of you during this difficult and confusing time.