April arrived with the kind of rain Northern California does best. Relentless, gray, miserable, perfect weather for miserable news. The investigation into Michael’s insurance fraud moved with bureaucratic slowness, but its effects rippled faster than I’d anticipated. I learned about the collapse secondhand, the way you always learn the best gossip through people who can’t wait to tell you. First call came from an acquaintance in the construction industry. Waldo thought you’d want to know. Words out about Sterling. Department of Insurance investigation for insurance fraud. I hadn’t heard. When did this become public? Last week. Sacramento construction community is small. Guy I know was giving Sterling cash work. Fired him immediately. Liability concern. Nobody wants an active fraud investigation on their site. Too much risk. Michael’s under the table income vanished overnight. Harold mentioned seeing Amanda at her mailbox looking distressed. Later that week, through Harold’s neighborhood connections, I learned about the IRS letter. Official demand 23,000 in unpaid payroll taxes plus penalties totaling 4,800. 27,800 total. Payment deadline 30 days or wage garnishment and asset seizure. They had nothing to seize. No wages to garnish. But the IRS didn’t care. Debt remained. Interest accrued.
Early May, my phone rang. Jenny’s name on screen. First time since the eviction. Grandpa, can we meet? I need to talk to someone normal. Of course, sweetheart. Where and when? Gunthers. Tomorrow afternoon. I just I can’t be in that apartment anymore. I’ll be there 2:00. Thank you. And Grandpa, I’m sorry for everything.
