Adrienne Read Her Own Instructions Aloud Under Oath

The table in the deposition room was polished enough to show the underside of a water glass.

Adrienne set hers on a paper coaster. Even there, she made things neat.

I sat beside Nora. A court reporter faced us. Adrienne's lawyer reminded her to listen to each question before she answered.

"Did Mr. Sutter sign the January assignment in your presence?" Nora asked.

"He agreed to let me handle business matters."

"Did you see him sign this document?"

"No."

The reporter's keys clicked.

"Did Hester Quinn witness a signing?"

"I wasn't responsible for every detail."

Nora placed an enlarged copy of an email on the table.

It came from Adrienne's business mailbox. Its date was January fourth. The attachment was a scan of our old agreement.

Declan had written, Use the signature page from this one. Keep Quinn underneath. That makes it look complete.

Adrienne's reply sat below it.

Use paragraph eight only as a source. Do not send that page with the new assignment. He will fuss if anyone mentions ownership.

Nora asked her to read the reply aloud.

Adrienne did. Her voice sounded much the same as it had when she asked whether I wanted supper.

"Did you send that?"

"Yes."

"Who did you mean by he?"

She looked at me.

"Malcolm."

I had pictured this moment in my brother's guest room. In those pictures, I had felt strong. Sitting there, I felt tired enough to sleep on the floor.

Nora gave me time to drink water before she went on.

"Why did you later ask him to sign a consent?"

"To keep the records in order."

"Because you did not already have his signed consent?"

Adrienne's lawyer spoke with her during a break. When we returned, she answered yes.

Then came the condo papers.

"Was this a company property?"

"No."

"Did Mr. Sutter agree to fund it?"

"No."

"What was your relationship with Mr. Voss?"

Her lawyer asked how that bore on the case. Nora pointed to the claimed business payment and the separate divorce disclosures. After a brief discussion, Adrienne answered.

"We were seeing each other."

She did not look at me that time.

For years, I had taken my wedding band off before reaching into a wind chest. I had always put it back on before I went home.

That morning, it was still on my hand.

At the break, I took it off and zipped it into my tool bag.

Adrienne found me beside the hallway window. Both lawyers stood within sight.

"I meant to tell you," she said.

"About which part?"

She pressed her lips together.

"I kept us afloat for years. You never asked how hard it was."

"You could have shown me the bills."

"You would have worried."

"I could have helped."

I waited for her to say she knew that. She adjusted one pearl stud instead.

The next week, Hester testified. She brought the repaired box and identified the original she had kept since 2012. She explained the marks on the signature page and denied signing or witnessing the January paper.

An examiner compared the scans, including the small flaws repeated around both signatures. Her report supported what the emails showed. Nora gave me a copy, and I read every page.

Declan's testimony came last.

He said Adrienne had told him the rights were hers. Nora showed him the email where he told her how to move the signatures.

"A drafting shortcut," he called it.

Then she showed him the two exclusive licenses he had signed for Bellwether.

He said the second buyer had misunderstood.

"Which buyer?" Nora asked.

He asked for a break.

While he was gone, I looked at the attachment list. There were my test drawings, the old license, and the royalty reports Adrienne had told me were not worth keeping. Each file had a date and a sender.

I had spent weeks asking myself how I could have missed so much. The answer sat in that list. She had been getting information I had stopped asking to see. I could change that habit without accepting blame for what she had done with it.

By then, the condo seller had agreed to return the $42,000 deposit once the court approved the release. The antiques dealer also agreed to cancel the unshipped order and return $22,000, subject to the same approval.

The money had places to come back from. That gave me more peace than watching Declan leave the room.

At the shop that Friday, I was shaping a reed tongue when my phone buzzed.

It was an email from Declan, copied to eleven churches.

He said their right to use my valves was in dispute. Unless they paid Bellwether by Sunday, he would name them in a lawsuit.

Mercy Street's choir director called before I reached the last line.

"Malcolm," she said, "the organ committee wants to unplug the blower."