Chapter 3 - The Folder Beside Richard's Empty Chair
The dining room had been cleared by the time Richard came downstairs.
Most relatives had left.
Staff were quietly restoring the tables.
The decorations Mark had fallen into remained on the floor.
Richard left them there.
The dark folder still sat beside his place.
Mark stood near the fireplace.
Claudia sat with both hands around a cup of coffee she was not drinking.
Richard picked up the folder.
“What is this?”
Mark exhaled.
“A financing package.”
“For what?”
“The winter expansion.”
“We aren't expanding.”
“We talked about upgrading the east wing.”
“New carpet is not an expansion.”
Mark rubbed the back of his neck.
“It became more.”
Richard opened the folder.
The first page came from Mountain State Commercial Bank.
The amount printed near the top made him look at Mark again.
$1.8 million.
Richard closed the folder.
“No.”
“Dad, read it.”
“I read the number.”
“You haven't read why.”
“You told me this was refinancing.”
“It is.”
“Of what?”
Mark did not answer.
Claudia did.
“Existing obligations.”
Richard turned toward her.
“What obligations?”
Mark shot her a look.
That was the first sign Richard had seen that they were not completely aligned.
Claudia ignored him.
“Vendor balances. Renovation expenses. Event contracts. A bridge loan.”
Richard looked back at Mark.
“What bridge loan?”
“We had a difficult year.”
Richard laughed once.
Not from humor.
“A difficult year requires eighteen hundred grand?”
“The lodge can support the payment.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Mark moved closer.
“Dad, we need to separate what's happening with Noah from the business.”
Richard stared at him.
“You tied my grandson outside because he overheard you talking about this business.”
“That is not what happened.”
“What happened?”
“He has been acting out.”
Richard felt his restraint thinning.
“Try again.”
Mark looked toward the floor.
“He doesn't listen to Claudia.”
Richard glanced at her.
“Why should tying him outside fix that?”
“It wasn't my idea to leave him there that long,” Claudia said.
Mark turned.
“You agreed.”
“I agreed he needed consequences. I did not agree with the storm getting worse.”
Richard almost could not believe the sentence.
“The storm did not sneak up on you.”
Neither answered.
Richard reopened the folder.
Alder Ridge Lodge was held by a family LLC.
Richard owned sixty percent.
Mark owned twenty-five.
A trust established for Noah held the remaining fifteen percent—an interest originally belonging to Noah’s late mother, Hannah.
Richard stopped reading.
“Why is Noah's trust listed as collateral support?”
Mark said nothing.
Richard continued.
The bank wanted a guarantee tied to lodge cash flow and an agreement restricting member distributions until the debt fell below a set threshold.
Richard’s signature was needed because he controlled the majority interest.
No signature.
No loan.
He flipped farther.
The existing debt schedule was attached.
Richard recognized none of it.
A $400,000 bridge facility.
Several overdue vendor accounts.
A line of credit almost fully drawn.
An equipment lease.
A private loan.
Richard looked up.
“How long?”
Mark understood the question.
“Two years.”
Richard felt something colder than anger.
“You've been borrowing against this lodge for two years?”
“Not against the real estate.”
“Don't play accountant with me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then explain.”
Mark pressed both palms against the table.
“Winter revenue dropped. Two corporate retreats canceled. We renovated the south hall expecting weddings to cover the gap. They didn't. Then costs doubled.”
Richard looked at Claudia.
She had managed special events before marrying Mark.
“Your renovation?”
Her expression hardened.
“Our renovation.”
Mark interrupted.
“I approved it.”
Richard turned back.
“What happens if I don't sign?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Claudia said, “The bridge loan matures Friday.”
Richard looked at Mark.
“And?”
“Without the refinance, we have a liquidity problem.”
“How bad?”
Mark hesitated.
Richard already knew the answer would be worse than the folder.
“How bad?”
Mark finally said, “Payroll could become a problem within three weeks.”
Richard stared at his son.
A few feet away, Noah’s birthday airplane rested on the sideboard where Richard had placed it while carrying him upstairs.
Mark followed his gaze.
“Dad, I was going to tell you.”
Richard looked at him.
“When?”
Mark's mouth tightened.
Richard tapped the signature page.
“Before I signed?”
May you like
Silence.
“Or after?”
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