The Buyout Papers Put A Price On His Exit

Dexter wanted $85,000 for his half.

He also wanted a statement that all disagreements had come from poor communication.

Lena slid the offer across her desk.

“The receiver's value is lower,” she said.

“So is my opinion of that sentence.”

The receiver had hired an appraiser to check the equipment, stock, debts, lease, and loss of work. After those costs, Dexter's half was worth $28,000.

The tuning lathe stayed in the inventory. So did the furnace and every pound of company bronze. My personal tools were listed separately, outside the sale.

I spent a week deciding whether I wanted the place.

Mai walked through it with me on a Saturday. The receiver had arranged the visit. Without Dexter's radio going, we could hear rain tick on the metal roof over the loading bay.

“This wall still leaks,” she said.

“I know.”

“And you still love it.”

I looked at the bench where I had taught Ruth to read a tuning gauge. At the marks on the floor from bells bigger than our kitchen table. At the little square of daylight beneath the back door.

“I love what we can do here.”

“Then put a roof repair in the loan.”

I applied for financing with the receiver's figures and three years of tax returns. The loan officer asked hard questions about customers leaving. I gave her the names of customers who had agreed to talk, including Celeste.

No one promised me work as a favor. They said they would consider bids with clear weights and open records.

That was enough to support a small equipment-backed loan. I used part of our savings too. Mai signed only after reading every page.

The settlement meeting took place four months after the changed lock. I sat in one room with Lena. Dexter stayed in another with his lawyer. The mediator walked between us carrying a yellow legal pad.

By lunch, we had agreed on the buyout price.

By three, we were still arguing about repayment.

Dexter claimed he could not find the money. The records showed a vacant lot he owned free of debt. He had already accepted an offer on it.

“Then the closing money can go into escrow,” Lena told the mediator.

I learned that waiting could be work. I sat through three cups of bad coffee without lowering a number.

At five, the mediator returned with a draft.

Dexter would pay $60,000. The papers broke it down: $38,640 for the seven churches' bronze; Mercy Landing's $6,000 deposit; $760 for moving; $720 for four months of storage; and $13,880 toward the agreed legal and accounting bills.

The seven church payments had separate amounts on a schedule. No congregation had to split an equal share with one that had lost less.

The lot sale would fund the payment before anyone released a claim. My $28,000 buyout went through the same closing agent but stayed a separate transaction.

“Buying his interest doesn't settle the churches' claims,” Lena explained. “Their money must reach them before they sign releases.”

I read that section again anyway.

Dexter would transfer his full membership interest. He would give up bank access, company passwords, keys, and any right to use the business name. The receiver would stay until the payments cleared and the handoff was checked.

Corrected company filings would show the full ownership history. The agreement would confirm that I had been an equal member from the start, not an employee suddenly promoted after a fight.

The churches could keep their records and speak about what had happened. Dexter's requested statement about poor communication was gone.

Then the mediator carried in one last request.

“He wants assurance that nobody takes the signature issue to the police.”

Lena put down her pen.

“These clients can settle their civil claims. They cannot buy control over a criminal decision.”

I said, “Leave it out.”

It stayed out.

Dexter signed at six forty. I signed twelve minutes later, after Lena checked the final pages against the draft.

He left by the rear door. I saw him through a glass panel, struggling to fold his umbrella. For the first time, he looked like a man carrying only his own things.

Three weeks later, his lot closed. The escrow agent sent the payment confirmations. Each church lawyer confirmed receipt. Mercy Landing got its deposit and expenses. The bills were paid as agreed.

Only then did the releases take effect.

The receiver handed me the red ledger and signed a final inventory. We changed the business name to Tran Bell Works and removed Dexter from every company account.

I put my key in the loading door. It turned.

Inside, on the office desk, lay a letter forwarded by Lena.

The district attorney's office wanted the original delivery sheet and the altered disposal certificate.