The Judge Signed A Work Order Before We Cut The Foam

"Don't cancel it yet," I told the supplier.

"I have two owners giving two sets of orders. I can't guess which one wins."

"Neither can I. Hold the foam until tomorrow. I'll send you something you can rely on."

I called Ruth with my throat tight. Losing a day meant more than losing sleep. It meant a ferry with bare benches and a contract we could not pay back.

She had already sent Emmett formal notice that I was using my purchase option. A courier had delivered his copy. She had filed a civil case in New Hanover County and asked for an urgent hearing to protect the shop's money and records.

"His lawyer just called," she said. "We'll discuss temporary terms at court tomorrow."

"Can I cut anything tonight?"

"Prepare what you already have. Keep a record. Don't move company property anywhere else."

Micah arrived at six carrying sandwiches and his old fabric shears.

"He really told folks you retired?" he asked.

"Apparently I forgot to attend."

He laid the sandwiches on clean paper.

We measured the ferry patterns against my drawings. Each cushion had a number, a drain edge, and a marked bow end. Salt found every mistake. A welt laid the wrong way could hold water like a little gutter.

I showed him the tackle box.

"Green cones on the machine. Red thread for temporary marks. Don't sew the red into a finished piece."

"Still the same system."

"It worked before Emmett had a bigger door."

At eight, I made Micah leave. I needed his hands steady the next day. Mine shook while I locked up, so I sat in my truck until they stopped.

The courthouse had none of the smells I understood. No hot vinyl. No machine oil. Just floor cleaner and paper warmed by printers.

Emmett stood outside the courtroom with a lawyer named Grant Bellamy. He wore the new company shirt under his jacket.

"We could have handled this ourselves," he said.

"You could have left the deposits here."

Ruth touched my elbow and guided me to a bench.

His lawyer wanted both owners to approve every expense. Ruth laid our ferry schedule beside that request.

"Joint approval already stopped a needed order," she said. "My client needs clear authority to finish the existing contract."

They spoke for forty minutes. I answered questions about the supplier, the payment dates, and the hours Micah had agreed to work.

At last, Emmett leaned toward me.

"You'll never finish all thirty-six."

"Then you should be glad somebody's trying."

The temporary agreement went before the judge. She asked each of us whether we understood it.

It let me handle the ferry job and ordinary shop bills, within a written budget. All new receipts would go into a separate company account. Neither of us could pay ourselves, remove equipment, or destroy records. A full ownership hearing would come later if we could not settle.

The judge made that last point twice.

"Today does not decide who will own this business," she said.

"I understand," I told her.

Emmett said the same thing without looking at me.

When the signed order reached Ruth's hand, I let out a breath that hurt my ribs.

By noon, the supplier had the order and our approved budget. By two, a truck backed up to our loading door with the foam, green vinyl, and fittings.

I checked each label against Pilar's contract. The foam needed the right test papers. So did the cover material. I put copies in a job folder before I touched a knife.

"You want me to start cutting?" Micah asked.

"One test piece first."

We built it, checked it, and then cut the rest. By dark, twelve foam blanks lay in rows beside their covers.

The phone rang twice while we worked. Both callers asked for Emmett. I took their names and promised only to return their calls after supper.

"You could tell them what he did," Micah said.

"I could spend the whole night telling it. These still wouldn't have covers."

He held a pattern down while I marked around it.

I was not calm because I felt no anger. I was calm because the foam knife needed a steady hand. The anger could wait beside the unpaid bills. It would still be there when I had time for it.

I had wanted some grand feeling when I stood up to Emmett. What I felt instead was the pinch of my shoe and the need for another cup of coffee.

Ruth called as I wound a fresh green bobbin.

"His lawyer sent records from the new business," she said. "There was an attachment they probably meant to leave out."

"What attachment?"

"A paid invoice for his new workshop. Equipment deposit, lease deposit, and fit-out. Total: $24,300."