The Settlement Required Malcolm To Pay Before He Could Leave

Malcolm's email did not say hush money.

It said, "If Dionisio confirms the sales were authorized and withdraws his contrary statement, I can arrange a $10,000 resolution."

Vera printed it and put it in the file.

"Do we answer?" I asked.

"With the truth. Then we get back to the accounting."

Her answer said I would not change a true statement for payment. Any settlement had to address the actual records and claims.

The three buyers filed civil claims of their own. Their lawyer included the written promise of casts from a recovered original, the false owner approval, and the use of my name without permission.

The depot records showed where the original had been when Malcolm took their money. The study agreement showed what he actually had access to.

Nobody needed to pretend he had stolen the old panel. What he had sold was false enough on its own.

By spring, his lawyer asked for a settlement meeting.

We met in a plain conference room. A radiator ticked under the window. Outside, dirty snow shrank beside the curb.

Malcolm had traded the camel coat for a dark jacket with worn cuffs.

I noticed. I did not enjoy noticing as much as I had expected.

Joel brought the final accounting. Vera brought the ownership order. The buyers' lawyer brought three signed statements saying none of them had received a panel.

"We can resolve the business today," Malcolm's lawyer said.

"If the numbers resolve," Greta said.

She attended for the theater, which still needed a written correction of the claims made in its name.

Malcolm looked at her.

"You never liked me."

"I liked your first estimate. It was specific. You should have stayed with that habit."

Vera slid a proposed agreement down the table.

Before we discussed dollars, I asked what would happen to the old sales sheets online.

"Removed," the buyers' lawyer said. "And he supplies confirmation."

"My name too. I don't want another customer finding it next winter."

She added the requirement while we watched. Malcolm's lawyer read it, asked for a clear deadline, and accepted it. For once, the work list included cleaning up after him.

The partnership would wind up under Joel's supervision. Its remaining property would be sold, its bills paid, and its accounts closed. The fourteen business-owned molds were included in that sale. My library was expressly excluded.

Malcolm would refund all $42,000 to the buyers. The $10,600 in escrow would count toward it. His personal funds and asset sales would cover the rest.

My remaining business interest and unpaid distributions came to $19,600 after the agreed adjustments. He would also pay $3,200 toward my legal costs.

"That's more than the check at the gate," he said.

"The check at the gate wasn't an accounting," I said.

He turned a page.

The correction named the North Wind study as a study. It said no original had been recovered by Malcolm, no commercial approval had been granted, and I had not authorized the three orders.

It had to go to each buyer and anyone else on the sales list found in the business records. No orders or deposits could remain hidden in an open file.

Joel had matched that list against the full bank records. There were only three paid orders. Two unpaid inquiries also needed the correction.

"I won't sign a confession," Malcolm said.

"Then your lawyer can tell the court what you dispute," Vera said.

She closed her pen.

I looked out at a man scraping salt from his windshield. For four years, I had filled Malcolm's silences with extra work.

This time, I let the radiator do it.

He signed after another hour with his lawyer.

The buyers' claims would end only after their funds cleared and the required corrections went out. My release would also wait for full payment. Until then, the signed terms could be enforced.

It took seven more weeks.

Malcolm sold personal assets. The shop's equipment went at an orderly sale. Business debts were paid before either partner's share was calculated. Joel sent a closing statement with each figure tied to a receipt.

I bought nothing from that sale. I had what I needed.

When the last transfers cleared, all three buyers had their deposits back. My $22,800 arrived in one payment. Vera confirmed that the corrections had been delivered, the old online sales sheets removed, and the business accounts closed.

The Bellweather committee voted to exclude Malcolm from future theater contracts. Its minutes gave the reasons and cited the records.

There was no shouting outside a courtroom. No crowd clapped when I left Vera's office.

I went home and slept through the night.

On Saturday morning, I was sorting clean mold jackets when someone knocked at my shop door.

A courier handed me a thick envelope from Greta.

Inside was the opening-night program and a note: The North Wind Goes Up Monday. Bring Your Hands At Eight.