Lyra waited.
Finally, he signed.
The following morning, the bank tried one last time to frighten her.
A representative called at eight fifteen and informed Lyra that a collection team would arrive at ten to inventory the sewing machines.
His voice carried the bored confidence of a man who believed the outcome had already been decided.
Lyra looked through the shop window.
Noah’s black car was parked across the street.
He had offered to come inside.
She had told him to remain outside unless she called.
For once, he had listened.
Lyra carried the company check to the bank herself.
The manager glanced at Noah’s name, then at her.
“Money from men like this usually has conditions.”
“So do loans from banks,” Lyra replied.
“That does not prevent you from accepting payments.”
He examined the check twice and added a penalty that did not appear on the written notice.
Lyra opened Noah’s folder.
During the night, she had read every page.
Tucked behind the deed was a complete account history that Noah’s lawyers had obtained while investigating the building sale.
The bank’s own ledger showed the exact cure amount, including all permitted fees.
She slid a copy across the desk.
“This is your number,” she said.
“The check covers it.
Stamp my receipt.”
The manager’s face tightened.
“There may be additional administrative costs.”
“Then show me the clause.”
He could not.
For several minutes, he typed, called someone behind a closed door, and typed again.
Lyra sat without speaking.
Her father had taught her that silence made dishonest people explain more than they intended.
At last, the manager stamped the receipt.
The seizure order was canceled at nine forty-two.
Lyra walked outside carrying proof that the shop’s equipment was safe.
Noah stood beside the car.
Paulie waited behind the wheel.
“Well?” Noah asked.
She held up the receipt.
Something like pride moved across his face.
“You could have come inside,” she said.
“You told me not to.”
“I noticed.”
“It was unpleasant.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
She turned toward the shop.
“Lyra.”
She stopped but did not face him.
“Dinner,” Noah said.
She looked over her shoulder.
“That sounded like an order.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he tried again.
“Would you have dinner with me?”
“No.”
Paulie suddenly became very interested in the steering wheel.
