We Counted Every Figure Before Garrett Surrendered The Barn Key

I asked Garrett to send the charge in writing.

"You know what it covers," he said.

"Send the invoice and the agreement I signed for it."

He hung up.

For years, I had tried to settle his anger before I settled a bill. This time, I wrote down the amount and the time of the call.

At nine, my lawyer called back. Her name was Nora Bell. I could hear a kettle in her kitchen.

"Do you have the original schedule?"

"On my lap."

"And is the barn his?"

"No. The festival rented it."

"Then let's speak to the person who can actually open it."

I emailed Nora the papers and approved $450 for that morning's work. She read them, called Helena, and sent Garrett a letter asking for peaceful release of my property. It listed the equipment and attached the signed schedule.

The barn owner answered Helena's call from a hardware store. He confirmed that Garrett had no separate storage contract with him and no right to collect storage charges on his behalf.

The barn rental cost $600. The festival had paid it directly.

By ten fifteen, Helena had ended Garrett's festival contract in writing. Her notice named the missed opening and his failure to show valid authority over the rig. It demanded the $3,600 advance back.

At eleven, she met us at the barn with the owner and an inventory sheet.

Garrett waited by the loading door. He had put on the dark jacket he wore for school bookings.

"Let's all take a breath," he said. "There's a solution here."

"Open the door," Helena said.

He held the key between two fingers.

"Emi, I'll pay you twelve hundred dollars to rent the rig for the weekend. You can stay home. I'll put a thank-you in the program."

I looked past him at the beam where we always hung my work light.

"No."

"Two thousand."

"You're offering to buy permission you told everyone you already had."

"I'm offering you money."

"Send any proposal through Nora. Right now, we are counting equipment."

The barn owner held out his hand. Garrett gave him the key.

Inside, everything smelled of damp hay and hot dust from the lamps. My apron hung on a nail. A half-eaten sandwich sat beside Garrett's microphone.

Tess stood near the sound case with her arms folded.

"I stayed until someone came," she told me.

"Thank you."

We started with the trailer, then the cases, frame, lamps, and rails. Helena read numbers while I found them. Tess checked each item against the copy.

"Figure seventeen," Helena said.

"Heron. Green case, top sleeve."

I lifted it by the body, never the neck. Its long beak crossed the light like a needle.

Garrett watched from beside the door.

"You couldn't have toured without me," he said.

"You drove a great many miles," I answered. "That belongs in the account of our work. It doesn't change the name on the trailer title."

He seemed more upset by that than by shouting.

The flood rail was bent at one end. I photographed it, then saw that the mount had only slipped. Two turns of a wing nut put it right.

My hands shook after I stopped working.

Helena noticed. She gave me a paper cup of water and waited without speaking.

We found all thirty-seven figures. My unfinished otter was still in my pocket, outside the numbered inventory.

At the end, Garrett signed a receipt confirming that the listed property had been released to me. Nora had supplied the wording. It did not settle our business accounts or excuse the changed schedule.

Garrett read that last sentence three times.

"You really hired a lawyer over this?"

"I hired one to help me get my tools back."

He signed.

I put the receipt in a folder before touching another case. The paper weighed almost nothing. Still, carrying it across the barn felt different from carrying an unanswered request. At the loading door, I took my apron off its nail and folded it over my arm. No one told me to leave it behind.

While Tess and I loaded the cases, Helena asked whether I could give two performances with a helper, one that evening and one Sunday.

"Under a new agreement," she added. "Directly with you."

I told her I needed an hour to check the rig and my script rights. Our old agreement left each maker's work with its maker, but I wanted Nora to read that clause too.

"Take the hour," Helena said.

I was tying down the last case when our bookkeeper, Marta, sent a message.

She had opened the company bank feed at my request.

There were three recent customer advances, totaling $4,860. All of that money had been moved into Garrett's personal account on Thursday.