Four Producers Required A New Contract Before They Trusted Me

At the settlement meeting, Delphine offered me the studio.

"You care so much about it," she said. "Keep the name. Keep the lease. I'll walk away."

Nina slid the lease back across the table.

"That includes obligations. We need numbers."

The room belonged to a mediator. It had no wig blocks, no silk curtains, and no wall of smiling cast photos. Delphine kept looking for something to hold besides her water cup.

Ruth presented her completed review.

The four deposits had reached the company account. Of that $32,000, $12,000 had paid supported studio costs, $6,000 remained, and $14,000 had gone to Delphine's personal reserve account.

The records showed no supply orders placed for the four productions.

Delphine called the $14,000 a temporary loan.

"Where was that approved?" Nina asked.

"I handled the money."

"That's a job. Where was the loan approved?"

There was no approval.

The quote history also showed that Delphine had entered my initials. The company records held no message from me approving those lots.

Ruth attached the actual messages where I had asked to review final designs before release.

The mediator moved the paper between us.

"We can spend months arguing about what was intended," she said. "What can be done now?"

I had brought a build plan.

The Glass Orchard would keep the six original silver lots. The Copper House would keep the four original copper lots.

Second Moon would get newly sourced hair, cooled to a soft silver under its own lights. The Bellkeeper would get the tested copper front with a dark back.

Both alternate designs needed signed client approval.

I passed around the actual swatches. The mediator put the silver against white paper, then against her black sleeve. Nobody had to accept my word for what it looked like. The producers would see these same samples under their own lights before any order changed.

The added supply and testing cost was $7,600. I had written that amount in a box. No one could pretend it was free.

"And who pays you?" Delphine asked.

"The contracts do. Every cost is on this sheet."

For the original ten lots, my price was $11,400, based on the old written rate sheet. My labor and the new materials were listed separately.

I would risk my own time on the rescue. I would not donate my stock to hide what had happened.

The four contracts had $32,000 in unpaid balances. Combined with the $20,000 available if Delphine returned the reserve, there was enough to complete the revised plan, pay Jules, and meet the listed closing costs.

It would be tight. The budget left me a small fee, not a prize.

Thiago had checked every work day with me. Jules had agreed to help if the unpaid wages came first and each new week's pay was set aside.

"The producers won't work under your sales control," I told Delphine.

"You spoke for them?"

"They wrote letters."

Nina placed four letters on the table.

By the end of the day, we had terms, subject to the clients signing.

Delphine would return $14,000 within three days. She would give up her claim to my scheduled stock, withdraw her damage claim, and stop using my name on quotes.

Our company would finish its wind-down under Ruth's review. I would release my company claims against Delphine only after she paid and met the settlement terms.

We would each keep our own legal bills.

Delphine also had to correct her messages to the clients. The correction said I was a co-owner and the senior wigmaker, and that the stock withdrawal followed our signed schedule.

"Senior sounds childish," she said.

"Then use lead wigmaker," I said. "The fact matters more than the word."

She crossed out senior and wrote lead.

The four producers met us the next day. Each received the budget, the design changes, and the full payment history for its own show.

Their lawyers reviewed documents releasing the old company from future supply duties and placing those duties with my new shop. Their deposits counted in full. No one paid the same deposit twice.

The remaining balances would come in agreed steps as work passed inspection.

"What if Delphine doesn't return the money?" Second Moon's producer asked.

"Then these transfers don't take effect," Nina said. "We haven't asked you to trust an empty account."

We all signed that condition.

I had wanted so badly to announce that everything was saved. Instead, I wrote pending beside each show on my wall calendar. The ink stayed there until the money cleared and every party had signed. A hopeful plan still needed all its parts.

Two days later, a cashier's check for $14,000 arrived at Nina's office. Ruth confirmed it cleared before releasing any funds.

I thought the hardest part was over.

Then Thiago called from the workroom.

The new silver sample had passed under the stage lamps, but the supplier could hold the matching uncolored hair only until noon tomorrow.