The Recovery Order Brought Eight Master Molds Back Through Our Door

I forwarded the auction sheet to Eva before calling Nolan.

Then I put my phone away. Calling him would only give him time to make another story.

Eva sent the auction house the existing order and the bill of sale. The sale was suspended that afternoon.

"We didn't know there was a dispute," the woman told me. "Nothing has been collected."

At the next urgent hearing, Nolan said he had only meant to find out the molds' value.

The sale sheet had a pickup date, an asking price of $6,000, and the words SELLER ACCEPTS FIRST QUALIFIED OFFER.

The judge read those words into the record.

Grant had now been served and had his own lawyer. His lawyer agreed to the return of all eight molds under a new order. The court reserved the question of Nolan's breach of the earlier order for later.

"No one moves anything else," the judge said. "No one deletes any records."

The next morning, Lewis and I met a bonded mover outside Pell Pattern Shop. The lawyers had agreed on the time and the inventory plan.

I had imagined some vast hidden factory.

It was a low brick building behind a tire yard. Water had pooled around the loading door. Inside, two workers cleaned buckets beside a mixer with our company name painted on its side.

That mixer was ours too.

Grant stood with his arms folded.

"Nolan said this was a joint expansion."

"Then you should have been willing to put it in our books," I said.

Lewis touched my elbow. We had come to count, photograph, and carry.

We found all eight molds. Two had new damage. Someone had dragged one across the floor. L-7 had lost part of the lip beside my three small steps.

I crouched without touching it.

"Can you save it?" Lewis asked.

"Yes. It needs support before it moves."

The steps were still there. I ran a gloved thumb close to them, along the sound edge, and felt the old smooth seal beneath the dust.

We made a padded bed in a crate. Lewis checked the packing. I wrote the mold number on all four sides.

Grant's lawyer handed Eva a list of customer jobs. Some had been finished. Some were only deposits and promises.

"These need to be reconciled," Eva said.

"I can't give back money I've spent," Grant said.

"Spending it doesn't settle who was entitled to it."

The workers stopped cleaning their buckets.

I asked whether they had been paid. They said yes, through the previous Friday. One asked whether the company name on his pay slip was real.

"The company is real," I said. "The arrangement you were told about is in dispute. Your lawyer or payroll office can help with your records."

I gave him our office contact for job confirmations. I wasn't going to leave another person guessing because Nolan had spoken with a sure voice.

By late afternoon, the eight molds were back at our shop. Together with the ten already there, they filled every numbered place on the inventory.

I hung my apron on a hook beside the casting room.

Safiya stood at the desk, matching the mover's receipt to the agreed quote.

"All eighteen?" she asked.

"All eighteen."

She closed her eyes for a second, then asked about the mixer.

"That too."

An outside conservation studio repaired the two damaged molds for $8,400. Lewis documented the damage and the work. I helped make support beds but let the studio handle the fragile joins.

Waiting was hard. Doing a poor repair would have cost us more time.

I posted the repair schedule above the bench. For once, every date included the time the material needed, not just the day someone wanted an invoice. Jo read it, then wrote her initials beside her assigned pours. Malik did the same. I knew whose hands would be on each piece.

While the molds cured, we caught up on straight runs at the theater. The two new casters, Jo and Malik, learned how I liked the bench cleared and the mixing water measured.

"Nolan used to say you took too long," Malik said.

"He ever finish one of these leaves?"

Malik looked at the rejected sample on my shelf.

"Not one I'd put over my head."

I handed him a clean brush. "Start at the points."

Our company account paid the overdue supplier bills on the dates we had promised. The accountants corrected the job records and prepared the needed tax corrections.

Under a court-approved agreement, Nolan and Grant placed $58,000 of the disputed funds in escrow. Neither could spend it while the case continued.

Work began to feel possible again.

Then Nolan's lawyer sent his proposed final witness list.

My name appeared under a line I read three times.

YARA DAHER—EXPECTED TO ADMIT OWNERSHIP SCHEDULE WAS FOR APPEARANCES ONLY.