The Locksmith Waited While My Lawyer Asked For An Order

I reached the studio before sunrise on Tuesday.

My work shoes made a wet trail across the floor. In the furnace room, the kiln display showed the cooling cycle I had set the night before. Forty small pendants waited inside.

Their order was worth $1,120. I had already spent the buyer's first payment on glass and shipping boxes.

I photographed the display, the doors, and the lock notice. Then I sent the pictures to Nella.

She called at six forty.

"I've asked their lawyer for a written promise to leave access alone. No answer yet. I'm filing for emergency relief this morning."

"What do I do when the locksmith comes?"

"Show him your lease and my letter. Ask him to call the person who hired him. Don't put yourself between him and a tool."

At seven, a man named Owen knocked. He had a black case and the tired look of someone who had already had a long morning.

I showed him the signed lease.

"She said the tenant had surrendered the space," he said.

"I haven't."

He read Nella's letter twice.

"I'm calling the office."

He went outside and stayed in his van. I kept working through my list: gas off, oxygen off, orders packed, records copied.

Shirin arrived at seven twenty. Kamran came with her.

He carried my winter coat from home. For one foolish second, I thought he had come to stand with me.

"I thought you might want breakfast," he said.

"I want my keys to keep working."

Shirin spoke through the open door of the van.

"This is a family property. Please proceed."

Owen shook his head.

"The office needs this dispute cleared first."

Her gracious voice thinned.

"I signed your work order."

"And she showed me a lease."

He drove away without opening his case.

Shirin turned to Kamran.

"Look what she has made of a simple change."

He held out my coat.

"Dorsa, maybe take a few days. Let everybody cool down."

I looked at the kiln through the little window.

"Cooling down is a process. If you cut the heat at the wrong point, you ruin the work."

"I meant us."

"So did I."

Nella called at nine. The court would hear our request at eleven thirty. She had filed a complaint asking it to enforce my lease, along with a motion to protect my access while the case moved forward.

Gwendolyn had supplied a sworn statement. She confirmed her signature and said she had never approved a second lease for Suite B.

I changed out of my work apron in the bathroom. Kamran offered to drive.

"I can get there," I said.

At the Winnebago County courthouse, I placed my belt in a gray tray and wondered whether everyone could hear my heart.

Nella met me outside the courtroom.

"Short answers," she said. "If you don't know, say so."

Shirin sat beside a lawyer named Mr. Bell. She looked hurt when she saw me, as if I had chosen the room just to shame her.

The judge had questions about the room numbers, the signatures, and the risk to my work. She did not ask whether I was a good daughter-in-law.

"What is in F1 today?" she asked me.

"My annealing kiln and finished customer orders. The room kept its old furnace name on the plans."

"Can you carry on your business without access to it?"

"No. Hot glass has to cool on a set cycle. I can't just bring it home."

Shirin started to speak. Mr. Bell touched her sleeve and stood to answer through the court. It was the first time I had seen her wait while someone else finished talking about my work.

Mr. Bell said his client needed time to review older trust records.

"Then preserving the present use should help everyone," Nella said.

The judge entered a temporary order. The trust and its agents could not change my locks, block access, or interrupt utilities pending further order. The underlying lease claims would have a full hearing later.

Nella handed me a copy bearing the clerk's stamp.

It was four pages. I held it with both hands.

In the hallway, Shirin stepped close.

"You could have spoken to me privately."

"You brought twelve people to watch me lose my shop."

Her eyes moved toward Kamran. He was standing by the water fountain.

This time, he did not come over when she looked.

Back at the studio, I taped a copy of the order inside the loading door. The kiln had finished its cycle. I lifted out one pendant, a narrow blue sky over a red line of land.

It was whole.

Then Nella forwarded a letter from Mr. Bell.

Shirin claimed my seventeen payments had been family gifts. According to her new rent ledger, I owed $21,250.

The last line warned that she would seek to end my lease for nonpayment.