The Hearing Turned On The Paper Beside The Weighing Tickets

At the courthouse Monday morning, Travis greeted the clerk as if she had come to one of his sales lunches.

"Busy season for everybody," he said.

She pointed him toward a bench.

I sat beside Elena with a folder across my knees. Saanvi stood near the water fountain. Noah had come too, in a clean work shirt with a loose thread at the cuff.

Travis looked at them and lost his smile.

"Everybody's making this bigger than it is."

Elena asked me not to answer.

The hearing began at eight thirty. It was a hearing about temporary control and protection of the property, not the final trial.

Travis's lawyer held up a two-page document.

"Mr. Chen was offered a chance to earn additional equity through completed work," he said. "That work was never accepted."

Elena asked for the exhibit.

I recognized it. An early draft Travis had emailed in October. The heading said Proposed Labor Arrangement. Neither signature line was filled.

"Is this your final agreement?" the judge asked Travis.

"It explains the spirit of it."

"I asked whether it is the agreement you signed."

"There was a longer version."

Elena handed over that version.

It had our signatures, the company resolution approving the transfer, and Schedule B. Each page had our initials in the lower corner.

Travis had drawn a tiny star next to his on the last page. He used stars on anything he thought marked a big win.

"Who supplied the molds?" the judge asked.

"Bowen made them," Travis said. "But I got the clients."

"Were the molds delivered?"

"Pieces were delivered. Nobody weighed a whole animal."

Saanvi took the witness chair.

She explained the cradles, the net weights, and the numbered sets. A mold came apart in sections. A rack could hold a complete mold without looking like an animal at all.

"How did you know the set was complete?" Elena asked.

"I checked every section against the attached list. That's my job."

"Did you sign the final receiving sheet?"

"Yes."

"Was anything missing?"

"No."

The judge looked at the tickets, then the receiving sheets.

"The tickets establish dated deliveries and weights," she said. "These attached records identify the property."

Elena showed the email chain next.

Looks good appeared above Travis's company signature.

His lawyer asked whether Travis had meant the photographs looked good.

"The email subject was Complete Schedule B Delivery," Saanvi said.

I kept my hands flat on the folder.

From the witness chair, Saanvi could see Travis's face. I could only see the back of his neck. He kept tugging his collar away from it.

His lawyer asked if she and I were friends.

"We work together," she said.

"And you want Mr. Chen back in charge?"

"I want payroll paid and the floats finished. My signature was on that sheet before anybody changed a lock."

When it was my turn, I explained why we had made the agreement that way. Travis had needed cash left for rent. I had owned molds worth $48,000. Supplying them let the business stop paying outside shops for every new animal.

"Were you paid a purchase price for them?" Elena asked.

"No. The extra ownership was the price."

"How much ownership did that leave you with?"

"Sixty percent."

Travis shook his head.

"People book us because of me," he said when his lawyer called him back. "I'm the company they know."

The judge asked about the buyer's advance.

Travis said it had covered urgent business expenses. He couldn't name them without his records.

Elena then showed the bank balance and unpaid payroll list. Saanvi had sworn to the hours. The judge asked for a full accounting.

By late morning, the court continued the ban on sales and removals. Elena had also filed my signed majority-member notice choosing me as the operating manager under our company agreement.

The judge allowed that choice to govern daily work while the case continued, subject to strict limits. I couldn't sell major assets or pay myself. Travis couldn't move money or bind the shop to new deals. Both sides had to preserve the books.

An independent accountant would review the disputed funds.

It wasn't a final victory. It was enough to get the floats off the sale list and back onto the work schedule.

Outside, Travis walked beside me to the elevator.

"They won't follow you," he said. "Ask who took my money."

I looked at him.

"The accountant will."

We reached the shop after lunch. A locksmith worked from the written access order while Saanvi counted tools against her list.

My key finally turned.

Inside the office, on top of the locked cash box, someone had left a white envelope.

My name was written on it in Ada's block letters.

Inside were nine hundred dollars and a note that began, I Knew Why He Was Paying Me.