The First Name I Finished After Taking Back The Shop

I forwarded the release to Elise before I answered Conrad.

“I did not sign this,” I wrote. “I did not authorize it.”

Then I stopped typing. There were other words I wanted to send. None would help protect a stone.

The carrier supplied its original email and signing record. The release had come from Conrad's office account after he locked me out. No signing request had gone to me.

“Keep the records,” Elise said. “Don't try to prove every detail yourself.”

She sent my written denial to the carrier and the cemetery. The carrier marked the release disputed and canceled the pickup. The pallets stayed where they were.

That morning, I changed the shop passwords with a list in front of me. Conrad's office job ended in a letter Elise reviewed. His building access ended with it.

I kept one of the old keys. It went in the case file with his letter dismissing me.

By Friday, I had reached all five newer families with actual choices. Three accepted later dates on new stone. Two wanted refunds.

Ed Mercer wanted his $3,600 back. June Heller wanted $2,200.

“I won't turn a refund into store credit,” I told both. “I'll send a written payment plan. You're free to reject it.”

Ed agreed to fourteen days. June said she would think about it.

The three who stayed had paid $8,400 between them. I listed that full credit on each revised order, and each family approved its own new date.

I transferred $8,000 of my savings to the company as a documented loan. Eva recorded it as money the company owed me, not sales.

It left $2,200 in my personal account.

I could have brought in more deposits. People still called. One woman wanted a kitchen address stone, cash in advance.

“I can't take that work yet,” I said.

I wrote her number on a waiting list without taking a dollar.

Tess Avery, who helped with settings and heavy lifts, came by Saturday. She had worked three mornings a week until Conrad told her orders were slow.

“He said you wanted fewer people around,” she said.

“I didn't.”

I showed her the schedule and told her how tight the money was.

“Paid hours only,” I said. “I can't ask you to carry this.”

We agreed on twenty hours for the first week, at her usual $26 an hour. I put the pay dates in writing.

Then Ben arrived to approve Daniel's rocket.

I had cut the stencil from his son's drawing. It had one bent fin and three round windows. A clean computer shape would have been easier. It would have been the wrong rocket.

Ben stood beside the bench for a long time.

“That top window was supposed to be me,” he said.

“Shall I leave it just as he drew it?”

“Every line.”

He signed the proof. I checked the name, dates, and spacing with him once more.

After he left, I covered the polished face with the stencil and pressed down every edge. The stone had to be dry. Loose grit could spoil a fine line.

Tess checked the lifting straps while I set the blast pressure.

The first name I finished after returning was Daniel's.

No speech went with it. I brushed out the letters, checked for shallow spots, and washed the face. Then I stood it where the afternoon light would show anything I had missed.

There was nothing to fix.

We installed it on Tuesday, after the cemetery approved the ground conditions. Ben paid his remaining balance by check. I gave him a receipt before I put it in my pocket.

“You didn't have to come back yourself,” he said.

“I wanted to see it level.”

He smiled a little at that.

Back at the shop, I carved a small fern on a practice chip while waiting for a coat of paint to dry. Its stem broke across a rough bit of grain. I started another beside it.

By the end of the next week, all seven older jobs were finished and accepted. Ruth's wheat stalks caught the light above Allen's name. The seven final balances brought in $12,600.

The remaining supplies, setting help, and transport for those jobs had cost $4,860. Eva showed me what could go toward the $7,800 stone order and the two refunds. She left room for bills already due.

For the first time, the figures led somewhere.

Then a process server came through the door.

He asked my name and handed me an envelope. June Heller had filed a claim for her $2,200 deposit.