Patricia Had To Answer For The Deposit In A Courtroom

Leona called the contractor that afternoon. He agreed to pause until the dispute was settled.

"I quoted taking out a wall," he told her. "Nobody mentioned a working business."

She got his reply in writing. Then she asked the court for an urgent order.

"Why file if he stopped?" Toua asked me.

I held up the picture of the new lock.

"The first locksmith stopped, too."

By Tuesday morning, my good shoes had rubbed a sore place on my heel. I sat outside a courtroom in Sioux Falls with my folder on my lap.

Patricia arrived in a cream coat. Her lawyer carried a thin black case. She looked past me toward Toua.

"You can still sit with your mother," she said.

He stayed beside me.

Inside, Judge Ellis asked us to keep our answers short and speak to the questions asked.

Leona put the recorded lease, the receipt, the floor plan, and my photographs before him. She explained the changed lock and the planned wall removal.

She had obtained a certified copy from the county records. The stamp on it matched the date on mine, eight years before this fight began.

Patricia stared at that page.

I remembered standing at the recording counter with Chue. We had argued kindly about who would buy lunch afterward. Neither of us had known which ordinary choice would matter years later: where we ate, or where we left a copy of our promise.

I was glad we had gone downtown before lunch.

Patricia's lawyer said the family had allowed an informal arrangement to run too long.

"The signed lease is informal?" the judge asked.

"My client disputes what the payment represented."

When I took the witness chair, I kept my feet flat on the floor.

"What did you pay?" Leona asked.

"Seventy-two thousand dollars."

"Was that a gift?"

"No. It was rent for twenty years."

She showed me the transfer record. I identified it, then the receipt Chue had signed for the company. The receipt used the words full prepaid rent.

Patricia's lawyer asked why I had paid such a large amount to family.

"Because the rooms fit my work, and the hall needed repairs," I said.

"You benefited from your father-in-law's kindness?"

"We both got what we signed for."

My voice shook on the last word. It still came out.

Patricia testified that the studio made it hard to grow the hall's business.

"People come for weddings," she said. "A boutique belongs there."

"Were you aware of the lease when you changed the lock?" Leona asked.

"Mai kept waving papers at me."

"Were you aware?"

"Yes."

Leona put Elena's rental agreement beside mine.

"You accepted nine thousand dollars for these same rooms?"

Patricia adjusted her glasses.

"A holding deposit."

"Where does this agreement call it that?"

Her lawyer stood. After a brief exchange, the judge allowed the question. Patricia looked at the page for so long that I heard someone turn a paper behind me.

"I intended to make the space available," she said.

"Did Mai agree to give it up?"

"She knew the family needed revenue."

"Did she agree?"

"No."

The judge asked his own question.

"Is the nine thousand dollars available to return?"

Patricia's face changed. It was small, a tightening around her mouth, but Toua saw it. His hand stopped moving against his knee.

"It went into operating funds," she said.

"Is it available?"

"Not all of it today."

The hearing did not settle every claim. The judge said that twice.

He did order the company to restore my east entrance access by five that afternoon. He barred lock changes, removal of my property, and changes to the leased rooms while the case continued.

He also required me to post a $1,000 bond. Leona had warned me that might happen. I paid it with money meant for winter supplies.

The clerk handed us the entered order before we left.

On the courthouse steps, Patricia said, "Was this worth dragging our name through town?"

"You put my work in front of a wedding party," I said. "I put our papers in front of a judge."

Toua drove us to the hall. At four forty, Patricia's assistant handed me two new keys and signed a receipt saying she had delivered them.

I tested both. Toua watched the loading path while I rolled a bolt of backing through my own door.

My machine's screen glowed when I switched it on. I rested my hands on the taped handles until my breathing slowed.

On Friday, the cure deadline passed with access restored under the order. The lawsuit remained open for a final decision and my costs.

Toua's lawyer obtained the company ledger after pressing his records request. Toua brought a copy home in a large envelope.

He opened it at our table and pointed to an entry for August twenty-second.

It read: MAI VANG STUDIO RENT CREDIT, $9,000.