“Did you have paying clients?”
“No.”
“Were you operating an ongoing business with services available to customers?”
“I was figuring out what direction I wanted to take.”
“So you were not working during that period?”
She looked toward Arvett.
“Not in the traditional sense.”
Captain Vale waited.
Liora sighed.
“No.”
My mother shifted in her seat.
“Liora,” she whispered.
Judge Mercer looked up.
“Mrs. Voss.”
My mother pressed her lips together.
Captain Vale moved on.
“After operating your consulting business for approximately two years, you reported no client income during the following year.”
“I was burned out.”
“Did you continue offering services?”
“Not really.”
“Did you seek other employment?”
“No.”
“Did you tell your accountant the business was inactive during that period?”
Liora stared at the document.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
He set the page aside.
“Were you receiving financial support from your parents?”
Her cheeks turned pink.
“Yes.”
“How frequently?”
“Monthly.”
“Was that money payment for a job?”
“No.”
“Did your parents employ you under an agreement requiring particular duties?”
“No.”
“Were those payments wages?”
“No.”
Captain Vale rested his hands on the table.
“Ms. Voss, I’m not questioning whether you have worked at different times during the past decade. You clearly have.”
She nodded quickly.
“But have you completed ten years of continuous employment?”
She looked at our mother again.
I could practically hear the answer she wanted to give.
She wanted to repeat the story she had been telling herself for years.
That developing a business counted as operating one.
That having a title counted as performing a job.
That financial support was somehow proof of financial independence.
But the dates were displayed in front of nine jurors.
There was nowhere to hide.
“I’ve been trying to work for more than ten years,” she said.
Captain Vale’s voice remained gentle.
“That’s not what I asked.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She looked at the trust document.
Then she looked at me.
For the first time that day, she did not look angry.
She looked ashamed.
“No,” she whispered.
Captain Vale waited.
The courtroom was silent.
Liora swallowed.
“No. I haven’t worked continuously for ten years.”
My mother’s chair scraped against the floor.
“This is ridiculous!”
Judge Mercer struck his gavel.
“Mrs. Voss, one more interruption and you will be removed from this courtroom.”
My mother sat down.
Her expression was no longer polished.
It was furious.
Arvett stood for cross-examination.
He questioned Liora about the legitimate projects she had completed.
There were several.
A wedding-planning contract.
A local boutique’s marketing campaign.
A short consulting arrangement with a restaurant.
A few styling assignments.
