The One Dollar Agreement Asked Me To Erase My Work

I put Rusk's agreement beside the shell and read every line.

He stood close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath.

"My original quote says I retain production records," I said.

"And now I'm buying them."

"For a dollar."

"The number is a formality."

"Then you won't mind if I change it."

His smile thinned.

I hadn't planned that answer. Fear sometimes left a small clear space where my good manners used to be.

"You work in my building," he said.

"Under a lease."

"Do you think a lease keeps a roof over you?"

I took a breath and kept my hands flat on the counter.

"My lawyer reviews changes to contracts. I'll send her this."

He tapped the paper.

"Tomorrow. Final tray. No extra marks."

"Same production standard as the first two."

He looked at the closed sample drawer. Then he left without taking his agreement.

I locked the door and called Elaine.

By afternoon, she had sent him a short reply. I would complete the existing order. I would not sell my business records. The remaining $1,920 would be due at pickup.

She also sent a written notice preserving the lease and disputing any claim that I had broken it.

"Will that stop him?" I asked.

"It will stop him saying he didn't know."

That evening, Felix and Tessa met us in Elaine's office again. A prosecutor joined by phone.

They had obtained bank records through court orders. Felix didn't spread them out for me to study. He explained only what affected my work.

"Cedar Step sent $84,000 to a company called Rill Restoration on June 3," he said. "The stated purpose was redeeming Mara's tokens."

"But she wasn't paid."

"That's her evidence. The bank records show where the transfer went. We're testing the explanation for it."

Rill had no repair crew and no supply purchases. Investigators were tracing its control and its transfers. My chips couldn't do that work for them.

What the chips could do was test the receipt's story. A payment supposedly completed with old chips now involved porcelain made a week later.

"We need the records in their proper order," Tessa said. "Not a story with the hard bits rubbed off."

I thought of sanding a warped foot until the whole piece leaned.

"I understand."

The prosecutor asked whether I was willing to complete the order and allow officers to observe pickup. Elaine made them explain the risks, the plan, and my right to refuse.

I asked for time with her alone.

"I want him to sign for the last batch," I said.

"A signature isn't worth getting hurt."

"Then make sure the plan doesn't depend on me being alone."

When the others returned, I agreed only after they described where officers would be and how I could cancel. I would arrange an ordinary pickup. They would handle their own recording, court permission, and warrants.

My job was to be a potter.

For once, that sounded like enough.

Elaine stayed after the call to go through the final invoice with me. We removed a line I'd added about my fear of Rusk. That belonged in my statement, she said, where its context would be clear. The invoice needed counts, dates, materials, and the balance due.

I had wanted one sheet to say everything.

Instead, we gave each fact its proper place. I could picture the shelves in my studio: wet clay apart from finished porcelain, glaze jars labeled, nothing balanced where a bump could bring it down.

Felix walked me to the lobby afterward. He had learned that I skipped lunch when a firing ran long. He held out a sealed bag of plain crackers from the office basket.

"A thrilling dinner invitation," I said.

He pulled his hand back a little.

"I meant food. For a witness who hasn't eaten."

My face warmed.

"I know. I was teasing."

He looked at the bag, then at me.

"They're excellent crackers. Terrible company policy."

I laughed, but something had changed. We both heard it.

The next morning, Tessa called. She would be my main contact from then on. Felix had told his supervisor that his personal feelings might affect his work. He would give evidence about what he had already done, but he wouldn't direct my cooperation or handle my samples.

For a moment, I felt left.

Then I pictured Rusk picking up my shell without asking.

Felix had stepped back from something he wanted because my choices mattered.

I trusted him more for it, even though I missed his voice.

I made the last sixty-four chips. Sixteen blue. Forty-eight pearl. Batch ZC-613-C. I kept the witness tile and sent my normal firing sheet with the invoice.

At four, Rusk replied to Elaine's pickup notice.

SEND IT WITH MY DRIVER. NO RECEIPTS.

Before I could call Tessa, a second message arrived.

IF YOU MAKE ME COME THERE, YOUR LITTLE SHOP CLOSES WITH THE BOX.