Page 30 of Joy to Noel
“Anything you need from me?” he asks. I appreciate his response—not pressing me to share more while still offering up his assistance.
“I’m sure I will eventually. But for tonight, no. You can head home,” I say. Beau gives me a nod and retreats. I double-check to make sure that Amanda is also gone and close the door before I call Cal.
When he answers, I ask, “Hey, you have a few minutes? Because you’re not going to believe what I found.”
What I found is that John Wilson was embezzling money from the company. I’m not a police detective (as Madison so kindly pointed out), so I don’t have the authority to dig into his personal financesto discoverwhyhe was embezzling money. But I do know exactly why this plant has been underperforming and overspending.
“It started with doctored expense reports that he submitted using receipts he created with generative AI,” I explain to Cal. “Those were for smaller amounts the first few weeks that the facility was open. But then things start to get really wild. They had a forklift driver who quit in November, but the offboarding paperwork was never filed. The bank account for paycheck deposits was changed the week after the employee quit—and I think we can safely assume the new bank account is tied to Wilson.
“Apparently, getting away with that move made him even bolder. When the floor manager quit at the beginning of December, his offboarding paperwork was also never filed, although the direct deposit account was changed. That’s around the same time that Wilson fired the HR and finance positions, replacing them with his new buddy from Bentonville, Mark. While Mark is receiving the salary due to the finance position, the HR paychecks are still being deposited to—you guessed it, a new bank account.”
The personnel files I received didn’t indicate that the floor manager position was sitting empty—as far as I know, those “fake” employees’ bank accounts arestillreceiving bi-weekly paychecks. Which means the company has been paying three salaries to employees who don’t work here anymore. And because they were never replaced, their workload was never picked up, resulting in disarray on the production floor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cal growls.
“You know I have a knack for uncovering messes and broken systems, but I have to say, this one’s next level, even for me,” I say. “I can’t believe that no higher-ups at Pure Fur All took the steps to investigate what was happening here. Do they have any contact with Wilson?”
“Not that I know of, but we’ll be turning this information over to our lawyers to get some legal action started. That will track him down,” Cal says. “This is good work, Liam.”
“I know it is,” I reply. It’s not arrogance—just facts. Which Cal understands.
He says, “I’m not sure how much I trust the decision-making of any of Pure Fur All’s leadership right now. Are you okay staying there as acting plant manager for a little while to get things whipped into shape? I’d prefer our company not bleed out any more unnecessary cash. Investors tend to get prickly about things like that.”
A jumble of feelings churns in my gut.
On the one hand, I came here ready to get out as quickly as possible. Ishouldbe chomping at the bit to leave ASAP.
On the other hand, my time has been shockingly brightened by the brunette living across from me.
Which presents a different challenge—how to resist getting pulled under by my fascination with Madison. I’ve already spent too much time distracted by her, so am I asking for trouble by agreeing to stay longer in her proximity? But I’d be lying if I said I didn’twantto be around her a little longer.
I might be playing with fire, but I can handle the heat. I just need to create some boundaries to keep the alluring flames confined to the fireplace.
“Not a problem, sir,” I answer.
Chapter fifteen
Madison
“Mads, I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten accomplished already! It’s been less than a week!” Clara exclaims. We’re gathered around a table at Becky’s coffee shop along with Becky and Syd, where I’ve been showing them my website and social media accounts.
“This looks so professional,” Syd says as she untangles Addie’s fingers from her hair. Addie is basically Sydney in three-year-old form, with the same blonde hair and long, full eyelashes framing her light-brown eyes. Syd’s son, Davis Jr., is in school along with Becky’s son, but Addie tagged along for our soft-opening of the coffee shop. Becky’s Brews will be open Thursdays through Saturdays for a few weeks until full-time hours start for tourist season.
We happily play the guinea pigs for her new drink ideas—although, I’d secretly be much happier if she offered some tea options.
“Now I just have to find some actual clients,” I say with a sigh.
“Are you hoping to edit fiction or nonfiction?” Becky asks.
“Honestly, anything. I might have a preference for nonfiction, but there don’t seem to be as many independent nonfiction authors looking for editing services. I might have to be hired by a publisher to get that kind of work,” I say. “I’ll do just about anything at this point, at least to get started.”
“Well, your website looks good. And the first posts you created for social media are appealing and informative, so hopefully you’ll getsome inquiries soon,” Syd says. “I’m impressed by everything you’ve done so far.”
A tinypingof guilt zips through me that I’m taking all the credit for what I’ve accomplished, considering that a lot of this was based on Liam’s suggestions. But I’m not about to confess to these three married friends that I’ve been spending late nights with him.
Especially not when Clara knows every detail about my failed attempts at finding someone via dating apps. There were a lot of guys who weren’t interested in a second date. And of the ones who were, I tended to sniff out their annoying flaws by the second or third date, successfully thwarting any long-term future. Clara would think something is up if she knew I’ve spent solo time with Liam on multiple occasions and haven’t blacklisted him yet.
And nothing is up. Nothing can be up.
