Three Exclusive Contracts Spread Across My Cleared Workbench Together

I put clean paper beneath the contracts because my bench still had wet glue on it.

That was how I learned what Marlene had done: protecting her paperwork from my mess.

Fern Hall had bought sole Arkansas rights to present and display Moss, Nell, and Aunt Slate from September 1 through November 30. Its $6,000 deposit covered half the fee.

The Harrison contract sold the same rights for the same dates at the same price.

I read both twice.

"Maybe one is an old draft," Soren said.

Each had a venue signature, Marlene's signature, and a payment receipt.

"They both paid."

At noon, Paul sent the records required by the temporary order. They included a third signed agreement, for Riverstep Children's Stage in Fayetteville.

Same characters. Same dates. Same exclusive promise.

I called Ada.

"There are three."

"Send everything. Don't promise refunds yet."

"I wasn't going to promise money I don't have."

"Good. Keep that habit."

The files also held a spreadsheet titled FALL GROWTH. Under each venue, Marlene had listed a replacement builder. Beside my name she had typed: REMOVE FROM PUBLIC MATERIALS.

I sat very still.

She had once crossed my name off a school poster because, she said, children didn't care who carved things. I had let that pass. Seeing the same choice made into a business plan felt different. This time, I kept the page.

Soren read over my shoulder. For once, he had no joke waiting.

A practical plan had existed. It simply had no place for the person who made the work.

Ada hired June Hale, a local bookkeeper, to trace the payments. June agreed to bill the company after the immediate crisis, up to a $450 limit.

"I need bank records, invoices, and cleared checks," she said. "Not the story around them."

By evening, her first table was ready.

The three school payments totaled $6,600. The three license deposits totaled $18,000. All $24,600 had gone into Cobb Booking Services' account.

The schools had paid for shows we had already given. Those receipts should have covered our waiting wages and bills.

Our signed agreement required gross receipts to reach the company account before expenses or member draws were paid.

The new account was owned by Marlene alone.

Paul supplied its statement after Ada asked for it. He also agreed that the remaining $11,400 should be held in his firm's trust account under a court order while the claims were sorted out.

Ada made sure the written order required that transfer. A promise on a phone call wasn't enough.

"Where did the other $13,200 go?" I asked June.

"Personal transfers, a trailer loan, and bills with no company support so far. She can offer receipts. This is the amount she has to explain."

I liked June's careful words. They left room for facts to arrive.

Marlene called while I was removing Moss's bent rod.

"You're making me look dishonest."

I set the pliers down.

"You sold three venues the same exclusive rights."

"Different towns."

"Each contract says Arkansas."

"Nobody reads territory language. They want a charming show."

"Ruth paid $6,000. She read it."

Marlene breathed hard into the phone.

"Then soften her up. You're good with the sweet little voices."

For years, I had turned sharp talks into small jokes. I had given rude emails a friendly reading. I had made her sound easier to work with than she was.

I stopped doing it.

"Send your answer through Paul," I said.

She lowered her voice.

"If this company folds, your name folds with it."

I wrote that down with the time after she hung up.

Then I called all three venue directors, one at a time. Ada had helped me prepare a short statement.

There were conflicting agreements. I owned the character rights and had not approved the licenses. We were seeking a plan that protected their money and their shows. They could send the documents to their own lawyers.

The Harrison director, Ben Ortiz, said he had promised his board an exclusive fall attraction.

The Fayetteville director, Della Ward, went quiet before asking if our company had any money left.

I told her what I knew and what was held in trust.

Ruth was the last call.

"Two hundred and twelve tickets," she said. "That's how many we've sold."

"I know."

"No, Leah. You know puppets. I know which children have already asked where to sit."

I looked at Moss's open jaw on the bench.

"Can we talk tomorrow with everyone on the same call?" I asked.

She agreed, but she didn't sound relieved.

After dark, I swept the floor. Soren straightened the rod in a padded vise. Outside, the town's steep streets shone under porch lights.

My phone chimed.

Ruth had forwarded a letter from Fern Hall's lawyer. It demanded proof by Friday afternoon that Saturday's performance could legally go ahead, or the hall would begin canceling tickets.