I Opened My Own Workshop With Every Receipt In Order

The last sale closed in June.

Until then, I let Ada hold the original signed settlement and Della check each payment. I had learned to like promises less than cleared funds.

All $214,680 came back to the company. The six businesses returned $156,000 through the approved sales. Enzo repaid $36,500, and Mara repaid $22,180.

Only after the last dollar cleared did Ada deliver the agreed releases.

At my closing, the company paid the $117,000 it owed me. Of that, $43,000 went back through escrow to purchase the machines. I received $74,000 and a bill of sale listing all twelve serial numbers.

My old lien was then satisfied in the public record. I no longer needed it. I had the machines themselves.

The company's $62,000 in other verified bills was paid. After the machine sale, its remaining cash was $78,680. Under our final division, Enzo and I each received $39,340. The accountant filed the final returns and closed the corporation properly.

I checked the figures myself, then paid my own accountant to handle the tax treatment. Keeping money meant tending it after it arrived.

The divorce became final. My refinance closed, and Enzo's name came off the house loan and deed as the order required. He collected his personal things through an arranged pickup while I was at work.

There were no more keys he could use.

The criminal cases took longer than the civil ones. I had another birthday before they ended.

Enzo pleaded guilty to forgery and theft. Mara pleaded guilty to theft and fraud tied to the loan records. Their plea terms included restitution already paid through the civil settlement, with credit recorded so no one could collect the same loss twice.

Enzo received two years in prison followed by probation. Mara received eighteen months followed by probation. Both faced restrictions on handling business funds during probation.

I went to the sentencing because the prosecutor asked whether I wanted to speak.

Enzo looked smaller in the courtroom. I did not enjoy that. I also did not mistake it for my fault.

I told the judge what my work had been worth and how long I had been asked to treat it as a favor.

Then I sat down.

Outside, Della handed me a paper cup of tea.

"Well?" she asked.

"I want to go check the new shop."

"That sounds expensive."

"The sign went up this morning."

She smiled. "Then it sounds necessary."

My workshop stood on a quiet street on Savannah's west side. The landlord had repaired the roof before I signed a three-year lease at $1,650 a month. I had checked the leaks myself after a hard rain.

The sign said ROSALIA BELLANDI, FUNERAL UPHOLSTERY RESTORATION.

There was room for all twelve machines, a broad cutting table, and a desk that faced the door. No one had to pass through another person's office to reach me.

The four businesses sold as going concerns had new owners. The other two had closed with their workers paid. The lender confirmed its settled balance. Sable Quay's final paperwork was filed after its accounts were emptied for the payments and allowed closing costs.

Mara's chain no longer belonged to her. Enzo had no company left to speak for me through.

Mr. Hales brought the first chairs to my new address. He also brought a folder with his old receipt and written confirmation that the false rental claim against his funeral home had been withdrawn.

"Keep a copy," he said.

"You know me well."

I hired a woman named June for three mornings a week. We agreed on $24 an hour, written hours, and paid training on the press. Her first check arrived on Friday, exactly as promised.

For the opening, Della brought her final invoice, marked PAID, and a box of pastries.

"Which one gets the place of honor?" she asked.

I set the invoice in its folder and the pastries beside the kettle.

"Both."

That evening, after everyone left, I stayed to finish a small kneeler. The velvet was cotton. I knew it by the soft drag against my thumb before I checked the supplier's tag.

I drew a blue crescent inside the seam, set the welt, and guided it beneath the needle. The walking foot rose and fell with the steady sound I had known most of my life.

When I locked up, there was an envelope in the door slot. A new customer had left a repair request for two chapel benches.

I carried it back to my desk and wrote the next ticket number. In the last pale light from the north windows, the blue moon beside it looked small and clear.