Eight Thousand Gallons of Milk and a Small Blue Ledger

desk, bearing his father’s name.

“The board wants to prosecute,” I said.

Gregory stopped packing and looked at me for the first time all morning.

“It was a business decision,” he said. “The margins were too tight.”

“You ordered industrial waste grade resin under a shell company,” I said.

“We needed the capital,” he said, his watch strap continue reading …