The Lawyer Read The Small Clause Travis Had Laughed At

I printed the seller's statement before I called anyone.

Travis had signed it the night before changing the locks. He had listed himself as the sole owner of Lantern Spur Floatworks LLC and checked a box saying no one else could claim its property.

My name appeared once.

Former independent fabricator.

I put that page beside our signed agreement. The paper was so thin I could see the printer bars through it.

At nine, I called Elena Solis, the lawyer who had reviewed our deal in November. Her office was above a tax service near the courthouse.

"Bring everything," she said. "Especially the pages that look dull."

I brought a grocery bag of folders and the clay armadillo. I didn't mean to bring the model. It had stayed in my jacket pocket.

Elena set a legal pad between us.

"Tell me what you want first."

"Keep the floats in the building. Pay the crew. Get my keys back."

"In that order?"

"By Monday, there won't be anything to unlock."

She read without speaking for several minutes.

Our business had started with Travis's sales work and $24,000 in cash. I had put in $16,000, tools, and the first designs. He had received sixty percent. I had received forty.

The next twenty points were tied to twelve reusable production molds that I already owned and would supply to the company.

"He calls your labor informal," Elena said. "This doesn't turn on your labor. It turns on delivery of property."

She tapped the paragraph Travis had called my bedtime reading.

The transfer took effect once the complete Schedule B set reached the warehouse by April 20. No later vote or fresh signature was required. Each delivery needed a dated scale ticket and an inventory signed by the receiving forewoman.

"Do you have all of those?"

"Photos. Saanvi has the shop copies."

Elena looked up.

"Photos of signed pages?"

"Two. The last delivery was yesterday. I was finishing a swan when she closed receiving."

"Then the last record matters a great deal. Weight alone won't tell a judge what was inside a crate."

She called the buyer while I sat there. I had sent him a short reply saying ownership was disputed and asking him to preserve every message from Travis.

Caleb answered on speaker.

"I paid an eighteen-thousand-dollar advance," he said. "Nobody told me there was another member."

"There is," Elena said. "We will send the documents. Please stop your trucks while we seek a court order."

"If Hume doesn't give my money back, I still have a contract."

"You should have your own lawyer review it."

He agreed to wait until ten Monday morning. He would promise nothing after that.

Elena's first payment was $3,000. I paid from the money I had saved to replace my truck's failing transmission.

At lunch I sat outside her office and called our three customers.

I told them there was a control dispute and a risk to delivery. I didn't tell them everything was fine.

The Las Palmas Spring Parade committee had paid $28,000 toward its heron float. A neighborhood music group had paid $9,500 toward the armadillo bandstand. A school arts fund had paid $11,000 toward a rolling garden.

Every dollar was meant to become something that rolled safely down a street.

"Travis said the shop was upgrading," the committee chair told me.

"Please forward that email to my lawyer."

When I called Saanvi, she answered in a whisper.

"He wants us to load the garden tomorrow. No final wheel test."

"Don't sign off on anything you haven't tested."

"We won't. Bowen, the bank balance is $3,420. Payroll is $12,960. He keeps saying the transfer is pending."

I wrote both numbers on Elena's legal pad.

"Did anyone get a check?" I asked.

"Nobody. Reed's rent is late. Ada canceled a dentist visit. I bought shop gloves with my own card because the supply account got frozen."

I had been thinking about a stolen business. She had been thinking about six kitchens and six mailboxes. I turned the pad around so Elena could read the numbers too.

"Can you save the last receiving record?"

There was a long pause.

"The office cabinet is locked. He took the key after you left."

"Don't force it. Tell Elena what you saw."

I heard Travis in the background, cheerful and loud.

"Big changes mean big rewards, people!"

Saanvi ended the call.

Elena prepared the filing that afternoon. She attached our agreement and asked the court to stop any sale or removal until ownership could be heard.

I went home with copies and a hearing time for Monday morning.

At 7:06 p.m., Saanvi knocked on my door.

She held a flat cardboard box against her chest.

"The cabinet wasn't the only copy," she said.

Then she laid three yellow tickets on my kitchen table.