I put our ordinary work records in front of Gordon before I put down the renewal. There were delivery acknowledgments, repair descriptions, supply receipts, and the shared ledger entries that linked them. Celia sat beside the table, not behind me. Hugh had come because the proposed settlement involved our van and our household, and I no longer mistook that for bringing a witness against somebody.
"These are the safeguards we can offer," I said. "The same records for everyone working here. You can check the work you buy. If there's a specific problem with a person or a job, we address that problem."
Gordon leafed through the first few sheets. "We've already discussed the records."
"I'm offering them instead of the employment-history restriction."
"And I've told you that restriction is part of the renewal."
I asked him once more whether he would remove it. He said no. He was willing to make my exception permanent in the agreement, and he seemed to believe that answered the hardest part. I looked at the line bearing my name, the little protected place he had made for me, and thought how readily I might once have called it practical.
"Then I won't renew," I said.
He set down the papers. "You're giving up a substantial account."
"I know."
"For a condition that doesn't prevent you from earning."
Celia did not move. I had told her beforehand that I would not ask her to make the argument for me. "It prevents me from choosing fair terms for the people doing the work," I said. "And it asks me to pretend the exception makes the rule reasonable."
Gordon looked toward Hugh. "You agree with this?"
"The decision about our van is ours," Hugh said. "The renewal is Nella's to accept or refuse. She's told you her answer."
That distinction steadied me more than a speech in my defense would have. I gave Gordon our written refusal and the reconciliation we had checked together. The untouched new advance would be returned in full. The remaining refundable balance from the old arrangement would be settled as well. I asked him to review the figures before the final exchange.
He found one description he wanted clarified. We checked it against the completed-order sheet and changed the wording without changing the sum. He took copies. The existing garments on our rail were finished and accounted for; there was no unfinished delivery being used as leverage. We arranged the settlement after the van sale, still before Christmas and within the written refund terms.
Hugh and I cleared the van that afternoon. Under the rear mat I found a loose button and a pencil worn too short to sharpen comfortably. The shelving came out. The space looked unexpectedly large without our cartons. Hugh asked whether I wanted a minute before we handed it over. I said I wanted him to check the compartments with me so we left nothing behind.
We completed the sale on the written offer we had both approved. I gave the buyer the repair papers and both keys. Walking away without reaching into my bag for the key was harder than I expected. Hugh carried the empty document envelope. I carried the small box of things we had removed.
At settlement, I returned the full new advance and paid the remaining old balance from the sale proceeds. Gordon compared the payments with the reconciliation. I waited while he read the acknowledgment stating that the advances and old-account balance were settled, the renewal had not been accepted, and no further work was reserved.
"You've made this harder than it needed to be," he said.
"I've made my part clear."
He signed. I checked the signature and date, gave him his copy, and kept ours with the refund acknowledgment. There was no final agreement between us about fairness. There did not need to be. When I reached the workroom, Celia asked whether the account was closed. I put the signed paper on the table where we could both read it and said yes.