The Receiver Put A Price On Every Promise Orson Made

I didn't answer Orson's email. It hadn't been sent to me, and nothing I could write would improve it.

Dana added it to the file.

Ellis asked Orson for a list of his personal assets that might fund a settlement. His lawyer supplied one. It included a small inherited parcel outside Minot, already listed for sale.

That gave us a possible way to return the customers' money. It didn't give us money yet.

December was approaching, and two towns still had children expecting ice on the same evening.

Freya asked permission to bring the committees together in person. Ellis approved the meeting. We met in a hall with folding chairs and coffee strong enough to strip paint.

The Rugby treasurer brought a folder with a rubber band around it.

The Bottineau chair brought a printed poster.

"We've put these in every school," she said.

I looked at the little drawn skater on the poster.

"I can operate one rink. I have one safe crew. That's what I can offer."

"Which town gets it?" the treasurer asked.

"You decide with Ellis. I'm not selling a promise over another promise."

Freya laid out a calendar.

Rugby's event included a choir, food tables, and a tree lighting fixed for December 12. Bottineau's hall and volunteers were also available December 19.

The Bottineau chair studied her poster.

"We can print a new date. We'd need help telling people."

"And a lower price," her treasurer said.

I calculated crew hours, travel, power needs, and the yard rent on a yellow pad. The company had overhead I wouldn't carry in a new operation.

"Seventeen thousand for each event," I said. "A full written scope. Weather terms. No early payment discount."

"What happens to our advances?"

Ellis answered that. The old company owed them refunds. If recovery succeeded, the towns could choose to direct that money toward their new contracts. He wouldn't make them pay twice for the same deposit.

"And if recovery takes too long?" someone asked.

"I'll accept payment after your event under the new agreement," I said. "Your committee's approval and purchase order come first."

It was a risk I could measure. I had savings for wages and transport, and I would do only those two events on those terms.

They asked for time to vote. I gave it to them.

Freya offered to help write the date-change notice. The Bottineau chair wanted to blame someone in its first line.

"Tell people when to come," Freya said. "Then give them a number for questions."

The chair crossed out her opening sentence. By the time we left, she had a notice her volunteers could use.

Tomas stacked chairs afterward.

"You lowered the price because of him."

"I priced the work I could do. I'm still earning money."

"It feels like he gets away with the mess."

"Wait for the accounting."

The accounting arrived two days later.

Ellis found $6,240 in unpaid supplier bills and $2,160 in crew wages. Tomas was owed $720 of those wages. Two other workers were owed the same.

There was also the $7,500 fleet rent.

The company had $3,080 in cash and $3,160 in valid unpaid invoices from finished fall jobs. Together, those would cover the suppliers if collected in full.

The missing $19,200 needed to go back to the customers.

Dana put the figures beside the ownership papers. Orson's lawyer asked for a settlement conference.

We met in separate rooms at Dana's office. I could hear Orson's voice through the wall, though not his words.

His first offer asked me to drop the rent and help pay his personal loan.

"No," I said.

His second offered to withdraw the $90,000 claim if he could keep a share of my future bookings.

"No."

Tomas sat beside me, turning a paper cup between his hands. He didn't suggest a speech.

By afternoon, the terms changed.

Orson would acknowledge my ownership, withdraw his claim, and resign as company manager. The company would wind down under Ellis. Orson would owe it $28,860: the diverted $19,200, the unpaid $7,500 rent, and the $2,160 wages his withdrawals had left uncovered.

His land-sale proceeds would fund payment through a closing arrangement approved by the lawyers. If he failed to pay, the agreed judgment could be enforced.

The separate $31,400 lender debt remained his responsibility.

I would receive no money for being called the skate woman. I hadn't asked for any.

"Your legal costs?" Tomas asked when Dana explained the draft.

"Each side pays its own under this offer," she said.

I looked at the number in my savings account. Then I looked at the cost of months more fighting.

"I can accept that. With the full customer list and written notices correcting who owns the fleet."

At five minutes to five, Dana's assistant brought in the signature pages.

Every line had been signed except Orson's.

Then his lawyer came through the door carrying a pen.