Dean brought the borrowing figures to the kitchen table on February 8, 1985, with the cautious expression he used when asking a customer to approve expensive fabric. He had not made an application. He wanted to see whether a loan might let him settle the shop's oldest obligations and stop paying for each week with the next week's work. In his column of expected income he had included permanent wages I did not have.
"Not until the selection," he said quickly. "I'm not saying we borrow tomorrow. But if we know what we'll have, we can plan."
I took my hand off the page. For months I had let him believe my uneasiness came from ordinary job uncertainty, the sort any temporary assignment carried. Now he was trying to solve a problem with an assumption I had allowed him to keep. I asked him to put down the pencil. He did, and the simple obedience made it harder to begin.
"There is something at work that could cost me the assignment," I said. "And the permanent position."
"Have they said you're not doing well?"
"That isn't it." I made myself look at him. "I initialed a confirmation saying I'd checked a complaint packet and that nothing was outstanding. I hadn't checked it."
He waited for the qualification I usually put after bad news. I told him about the six service complaints, the summary I had typed from Ellis's log, the promise to forward the packet, and my decision to sign. I told him I later opened the cabinet with Ellis there and learned the complaints had not been forwarded. I did not begin with the days Ellis had covered for me.
"And you corrected it afterward?" Dean asked.
"No."
He leaned back. I told him about the returning woman and her lost wages, the private agreement to give Ellis time, Celia's instruction to bring the actual error, and the missed June deadline. Then I described the unsent draft and Ellis's acknowledgment that he had written it. I stopped there. I could not tell Dean what Ellis intended privately, only what he had written and said.
"Does Celia know any of this?"
"Not the packet. I asked her a hypothetical question. I let her think it was about teaching the procedure."
He looked toward the household folder on the shelf. "So when you told me the money was temporary, that wasn't all you knew."
"No. It wasn't."
The refrigerator started with a small rattle. Neither of us moved. I wanted him to ask why, because I had reasons ready: loyalty, bills, fear of losing something we needed. Instead he asked whether the complaints were still available. I said they were in the shared cabinet, originals together, and that the original confirmation had not been corrected. He nodded once, taking in something practical he could understand.
"You didn't just risk wages," he said. "You let me count them without telling me what they rested on."
I began to say that I had been trying to protect the shop. The sentence sounded unbearable before I finished it. Dean looked down at his figures. "I believe you were scared for us," he said. "That doesn't mean I agreed to this."
I told him I was sorry. He did not wave it away or tell me everything would be all right. He drew a line through the anticipated permanent amount and moved the borrowing page aside. We would not build the shop's rescue on wages that might disappear because of something I had concealed. He wanted that settled before we talked about anything else.
"Do you want me to go to Celia tomorrow?" I asked.
"I want you to stop asking me for a decision that belongs to you." His voice was quiet, but not gentle. "Tell me what you decide. Tell me what it may cost. I'll work on our part with you. I can't put your initials on the right thing for you."
We sat there long enough for the coffee to cool. Then he brought out the actual bills, and I brought my current statement. We did not solve the shop's troubles that evening. We separated money already earned from money hoped for, and we left the borrowing page outside the folder. Before bed, he asked me to tell him when there was a workplace decision, even if it was bad. I promised only that. It was smaller than the assurances I had been giving him, and it was the first one that evening he had a fair chance to judge.