We Signed Our Own Contracts Beneath The Bare Workshop Bulb

Della's payment cleared first. Russell's took another three weeks.

I learned to ask one question whenever somebody said the money was coming.

“Has it cleared?”

That question did not make me popular with Russell's lawyer. It kept the crew from planning meals around a boat buyer's promise.

When the full amount arrived, the agreements became final. Each venue received its refund and a written account of what had happened. Aurora received the extra $640 for the screen.

The documents also said plainly that Alma had not inspected that show and Eli had not approved it. The venues corrected their files. Mavis sent Alma a copy of the corrected safety record.

Alma held it up to the storage-room light.

“Look at that. I finally did nothing, officially.”

The crew received separate payments for every unpaid shift. Martin checked them against the calendars and payroll records. My rent payment arrived with a statement listing all six missed weeks.

I bought no new carving bench.

Instead, I rented a small workroom behind a cabinet shop in Kearney. It had a sink, a solid door, and one bare bulb above the main table.

Ben helped move the cases. Eli carried the moon flat against his chest, as careful as a waiter carrying soup.

The old company's tent, lights, and trailer went to an unrelated buyer. The sale money paid its remaining equipment bills and closing costs. Neither Russell nor I received a payout for our shares.

A neutral agent handled the wind-down. Russell no longer controlled bookings or accounts. Della no longer held any role with the company.

Their settlement included entered judgments based on their written admissions. The principal claims were marked paid only after distribution. Their lawyers also delivered signed notices withdrawing the false sale sheet and the copied crew approvals.

They could not call the whole thing a misunderstanding in the files that mattered.

Ruth sent me a final folder with tabs.

“Keep this somewhere dry,” she said.

“That's my main filing system.”

“It has served you well.”

Outside, the first hard frost had silvered the grass by the shop. We would spend winter building the new show and start traveling in spring.

I had enough savings, returned rent, and planned work to guarantee a short first run. I put the money for those wages aside before ordering fresh paint.

Then I asked the crew to meet beneath the bare bulb.

Four job offers lay on the table. Beside them sat the new company's budget and a proposed lease for my eighteen figures.

“You're charging rent again?” Tess asked.

“Yes. Seven hundred twenty a week while we're touring. It's listed as an expense before we divide any bonus.”

She read the page.

“Good. I wanted to see where it went.”

I showed them the account set aside for wages. Alma would review the books each month with an outside bookkeeper. Large purchases required two approvals. Nobody could promise a second unit without enough people, equipment, and signed venue consent.

Eli looked at his offer for a long time.

“Can I learn repairs?”

“Paid training. It's on page two.”

“I mean real repairs. Faces. Hands.”

I handed him the king's old broken thumb, which I had kept in a small box.

“We can start with why this one split.”

Ben asked about weather cancellations. Tess asked about room costs. Alma asked who had to unload the cable when her knee hurt.

“Me,” I said.

“Put it in writing.”

I did.

Nobody signed that night. I told them to take the offers home, mark them up, and have anyone they trusted read them.

They returned over the next two days. We changed three clauses. Then all four accepted.

At rehearsal, Alma stood beside the little light board we had rented.

“Ready for the sea?” she asked.

I raised the king's control bar. Eli set the wooden horse at the edge of the painted dock. Tess drew a blue cloth across the stage floor, and Ben worked the wind drum.

For the first time in weeks, my hands remembered something besides holding paper still.

The king slipped, caught a rope, and rose with one small foot kicking at the waves.

Alma laughed from behind the board.

“That fellow's had a rough season.”

“He's learning.”

We practiced until the windows went dark. I repaired a coat seam with my brass thimble while the others packed the new rack.

The mail slot rattled.

Inside was our first signed booking: a spring family show in a rented Kearney hall, with a guaranteed fee of $1,800.

At the bottom, the organizer had added a note in blue ink.

Please bring the king with the repaired hand.