I stopped speaking and watched Dave come through the front doors. He was wearing the exact same shirt he had worn the day he opened the shop, the day he’d taken the keys and told me he was finally ready to prove he could do it himself. The room went quiet because everyone knew there was history between us, but nobody knew what had happened three weeks earlier. Dave walked straight toward the front table, smiled at a few clients, and then looked at me. I simply continued my speech. When I finished, the owner of our largest account stood up and asked Dave why he’d never mentioned that he’d been removed from the partnership.
Dave’s face changed. He looked at me like I’d broken some private agreement by telling the truth in public. I told the room that there was no secret: the partnership had been restructured, the documents had been signed, and Dave had received exactly what we’d agreed to. What nobody knew was that the shop had almost closed because of the contracts he’d neglected. I had spent years fixing those problems quietly because I didn’t want clients to lose faith in us. Then Dave interrupted and said I’d made him look incompetent. I looked at him and said, “I didn’t make you look anything. I stopped covering for you.”
The room stayed silent until one of our oldest suppliers stood up. He said Dave had called him three months earlier asking whether he could delay payment on an order because “the shop wasn’t doing well.” The supplier had refused because my name was still on the account. Then another client admitted Dave had tried to pitch him privately while telling me he was too busy to handle the account. Dave finally walked toward the exit, but before he reached the door, our accountant stopped him and said, “Dave, there’s one more thing you should know. The audit finished yesterday—and you weren’t the only person who signed those contracts.”
