That evening, Vanessa called.
Her voice sounded exhausted.
“I found something.”
I sat behind my desk.
“What?”
“The distressed-loan portfolio included your account, but the acquisition memo listed the underlying property as strategically important to a separate redevelopment plan.”
I frowned.
“Meaning?”
She hesitated.
“Meaning somebody may have been interested in the land before there was a genuine reason to treat the loan as urgent.”
I looked toward the service bays.
She continued.
“I've asked for the transaction to be reviewed by people who weren't involved in it.”
I nodded.
“Will that help?”
“I hope so.”
Then her voice changed.
“Marcus, Arthur knows we went to dinner.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What?”
She took a breath.
“He asked why I was spending time with a borrower whose loan was under review.”
I stared.
“How did he know?”
“I don't know yet.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she said something that frightened me more than the bank letter.
“He implied I was letting a personal relationship influence business decisions.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The exact thing she'd been careful to avoid.
Vanessa continued.
“I'm going to step away from decisions concerning your specific account while an independent committee reviews it. I'll disclose the conflict and make sure the records are preserved.”
I nodded.
“That sounds right.”
She was quiet.
Then whispered, “I'm sorry this happened.”
I looked toward the photograph of my father.
“Me too.”
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Vanessa said, “Marcus?”
“Yeah?”
“Don't let Arthur Bell convince you that everything about us was part of this.”
My throat tightened.
I wanted to answer immediately.
But I thought about the notices.
The loan.
The photograph.
And the man who seemed to know exactly where Vanessa had been.
Then I whispered, “I don't know what to believe yet.”
The silence that followed hurt worse than anything she'd said.
Finally, Vanessa answered.
“I understand.”
Then the call ended.
And for the first time since meeting her on the mountain highway, I was afraid the most beautiful thing to happen to me in three years might also be the thing that cost me everything my father had built.
The following Sunday, Maya asked why I wasn't smiling anymore.
We were sitting on the living room floor assembling another spaceship, though this one apparently required a horse trailer, three rocket engines, and a cafeteria.