Page 95 of The Truth of Our Secrets

He’s not a customer.

“Hi, can I help you?” I ask.

“Are you Madyson Rose?” he asks, and I nod nervously. Few people use my legal name.

“I’m here from the NYC fire department to issue a Violation Order for failing to obtain proper permits for hazardous materials or flammable/combustible materials. Your businessneeds to be shut down immediately.” He hands me papers from his clipboard.

My body remains upright, but inside I crumple on the floor. My ears are ringing and I should say something, but my mind’s blank. Twenty minutes ago, I thought this would be one of the worst days ever, but now…now it’s the apocalypse.

I’m losing everything.

Jayce takes the paper from my hands. “There has to be a mistake. We had a fire inspection after some renovations a little over two months ago, and nothing has changed.”

The guy shrugs. “I only serve the violations. I don’t investigate.”

“You can’t shut down a business for a mistake!” Jayce bellows.

His anger snaps me out of it. He’s right. This is a mistake. Hopefully, easy to sort out.

I take back the paper and murmur, “I’m going to call Laura. Don’t let him do anything yet.” I retreat to my office.

With trembling hands, I pull up my contacts and close the door for privacy.

“Laura Smith,” she answers, distracted.

“Hi, Laura, it’s Madyson McKenna from the Artistic Edge.” I’m proud of myself for staying calm.

“Listen, if you’re calling about another painting, do me a favor and don’t tell my wife. She’ll buy you out and I’ll be in the poorhouse,” she jokes.

“There’s a man here from the NYFD who says I have a violation order and the gallery needs to be shut down. Immediately.” My words are shaky.

“It has to be a scam. Did he ask for money?”

“No, the paperwork looks legit.” I rattle off the information.

“Okay, slow down.” I hear clicking sounds. “Read me the number on the top right again.” She whistles but says nothing and there’s more clicking.

The silence eats away at me one painful inch at a time.

She sighs and it’s not good news. “You keep records of your inspections and permits, right?”

“Yes.” I reach into the small filing cabinet behind my desk. “Somewhere.” I’m so stressed that I can’t read the labels on the files.

“Madyson, we’ll figure this out.” Her voice is reassuring.

I nod even though she can’t see me. Finally, I find the correct file. She asks me to scan the permits and proof of inspection and email it to her.

“Done.”

“Can you make copies and give them to the inspector? Let me talk to him.”

Armed with my proof of compliance, I rejoin Jayce and the inspector, who glare at each other.

“Laura, you’re on speaker, so go head.”

“Miss Rose has a physical copy of the permit and her last inspection in October. I was in the gallery a few weeks ago and personally saw the certificate posted on the wall.” She uses my legal name on the documents.

The inspector’s eyes get comically wide when he hears Laura’s voice. He probably isn’t on a first name basis with the fire commissioner like I am. He reviews my paperwork.

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