As soon as she was alone again, Zoe’s office was once again thrown into stunned, horrified silence. The work room beyond her office filled with more than fifty staff members were all laughing and chatting as they worked hard to finish the orders for the current fall line which was due to be mailed by Friday. Since it was Wednesday already, they had only two days left. Thankfully, this crew was loyal and dedicated and the previous pattern of crazy time crunch and late nights in order to meet the supply order deadlines wasn’t going to happen this quarter.
Zoe picked up the phone once again and called her accountant’s home phone number. She almost started crying when the mechanical voice told her that the phone had been disconnected.
Grabbing her purse, she raced out of the office, waving to anyone who called out to her. Normally, she would stop and answer questions but today, the crisis was just too ghastly.
In her car, she sped out of the parking lot behind her building, slipping sunglasses on as she exited from the alley into the bright sunshine. This couldn’t be happening, she thought, trying to remain as calm as possible. There was too much money involved, too many lives that would be impacted if her suspicions were correct.
Three hours later, her whole body ached. She let herself into her loft apartment, slipped her feet out of her shoes, and then curled up on the multi colored sofa. The loft was basically the only thing she had left. She had no money to make payroll, which was due in five days. Apparently, she hadn’t been paying her suppliers for the past three months and there was no trace of her accountant. His office was even cleared out, not even a desk was left and the trash had been taken out. Not a scrap of paper or furniture anywhere in the suite where he’d previously had several assistants working diligently. His house out in the suburbs was empty with a “Sold” sign in the front yard. There wasn’t even a newspaper in the driveway, so thoroughly had the place been cleaned out and shut down.
Apparently her accountant had been planning this for months, stocking up the money she’d entrusted to him to pay her bills and make her payroll. He’d wiped her out. She had some money in her private account, but that was only enough to cover her personal bills each month. She didn’t take a salary, putting everything back into her business so even that amount would run dry very soon.
She’d been trying desperately hard to come up with explanations for the lack of funding, but when she’d found Andrew’s home empty, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. She’d been robbed. Her accountant had embezzled all her money and she had nothing left. Nothing but her clothes.
She’d gone to the police and filed a report, but their initial search had shown that Andrew had already left the country, his passport number showing him leaving the Unites States through the Miami Airport yesterday afternoon, heading to Grand Cayman. There wasn’t anything she could do from that end, but they would pursue some leads and check with his other clients to see if they had also been robbed.
It didn’t matter that she was the victim of a crime and that the police were now involved to try and help, she’d still lose her company, the people who were relying on her for their livelihoods would be distraught as well because they wouldn’t be able to meet their mortgage payments or put food on their tables for their families. The man had stolen millions of dollars from her over the past few years. And what was worse, she’d given him the ability to do it. The responsibility was all on her shoulders.
She’d failed. She’d failed her entire staff and she had no idea how to tell them.
The tears were falling freely now that she was alone. Her loft was silent except for the light sounds of traffic outside her windows. A part of her mind told her she should make herself something for dinner, but she simply couldn’t get up off the sofa, despite the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything since her cup of coffee this morning.
The knock on the door made her jump, but she didn’t get up. She simply stared at the wall, praying that whoever was knocking would simply assume she was not here and go away.
“Zoe! I know you’re in there and I know something is horribly wrong,” Debbie called out through the metal door. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”
Zoe smiled through the tears rushing down her cheeks, blinking to try and get control over her emotions. She sat up and looked in the mirror over her fireplace. Her cheeks were pink and eyes red, but she would have to come up with something to tell Debbie, but not the truth. Not yet. Zoe wasn’t ready for everyone to know how horribly she’d failed.
As she padded barefoot over to the door, she took several deep breaths, hoping the extra oxygen would even out her skin tone and hide the effects of the second worse day in her life. Possibly the worst, she thought sarcastically because the day wasn’t over yet.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, she pulled the metal door open. “What’s up Debbie?” she asked.
Debbie stood in the hallway, her eyes taking in all the details of her friend’s face. After several moments, she shook her head and pushed her way into the apartment. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
Zoe sighed and closed the door, following Debbie in her purple and black dress that would be overwhelming on someone with less of a personality. But Debbie could pull it off somehow. On Debbie, drama seemed…right. Ignoring Debbie’s fashion choices, Zoe sighed and crossed her arms over her stomach, hoping to hide the worst of the trauma. “Oh, just a tough day.”
“Was it man problems like I guessed earlier this morning?”
Zoe pounced on that excuse, not wanting to panic her friend just yet. “Yes. Justin didn’t show up for lunch again today. I’m going to dump him. It wasn’t working out anyway.”
Debbie moved over to the kitchen, tossing her purple ruffled shawl over one of the painted wooden bar stools, this one orange which clashed even more with her deep purple shawl. With a thunk, she placed the canvas bag onto the counter which was actually a recycled old barn door, the rough wood sanded down and coated with a polyurethane coating to prevent splinters. “Justin called from the restaurant wondering where you were. He was worried about you.”
With that little bombshell dropped, Debbie pulled out two bottles of red wine and watched Zoe’s expression. When the tears started, she pulled out two pints of ice cream, one cherry vanilla, the other chunky monkey. “Is there something wrong with your mom?” she asked.