When Grandpa reminded Grant that the work was already installed and accepted, Melissa smiled.

“Everything’s already installed. It’s not like you can take it back.”

That was apparently the sentence that changed Grandpa’s expression.

My grandpa is normally the least confrontational person you’ll ever meet.

He once apologized to a waitress because she brought him the wrong breakfast.

But this time, he didn’t argue.

He stood there for a moment.

He looked at the cabinets, then the shelves, then the window bench.

Then he smiled.

“Okay,” he said.

Grant actually laughed, clearly entertained by how easily Grandpa appeared to surrender.

Grandpa calmly packed his tools and swept the work area.

Then he pulled out one final page.

“What was that?” I asked.

“A completion acknowledgment.”

“A what?”

“A piece of paper saying the job was finished, they had inspected it, they had no complaints about workmanship, and they were refusing to pay the outstanding balance.”

“You had that ready?”

“I keep templates.”

Of course he did.

Grandpa handed it to them.

Grant barely looked at it.

Melissa asked if signing meant Grandpa would stop bothering them.

He told her it simply documented their position.

They both signed.

Apparently Melissa smiled afterward and said, “See? That was much easier than making this ugly.”

Grandpa came home looking oddly cheerful.

I went over after work expecting him to be furious. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because tomorrow morning, they’re going to understand why I needed their signatures.”

I stared at him.

“What are you going to do?”

He took a sip.

“Nothing illegal.”

“That is not comforting.”

He laughed.

“Go home.”

“Grandpa.”

“Seven forty-five tomorrow morning. Just make sure your phone’s on.”

At 7:46 a.m., my phone rang.

It was Grandpa.

I answered immediately.

“Where are you?”

“Their driveway.”

“Why?”

Then he told me who was standing beside him.

“David.”

I sat up when he named his attorney.

“And Tommy.”

“Tommy who?”

“My old apprentice.”

I was already reaching for my keys.

“What are you doing?”

“Come see.”

When I arrived, four vehicles filled the driveway.

Grandpa’s truck.

A black sedan I assumed belonged to David.

Tommy’s work van.

And a white SUV I didn’t recognize.

Grandpa stood near the porch in his usual work clothes.

David was beside him holding a leather folder.

Tommy leaned against his van, drinking coffee.

I got out.

“What is happening?”

Grandpa smiled.

“Morning. I was wondering how long you’d take to get here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Tommy grinned.

“You’re about to enjoy yourself.”

Tommy had worked for Grandpa nearly 20 years earlier.

Back then, he was a skinny 19-year-old who could barely cut crown molding without swearing.

Now he owned one of the largest residential carpentry companies in the county.

“What are you doing here?”

He pointed toward the house.

“They called me yesterday about another job upstairs.”

I blinked.

“They tried to stiff Grandpa and then called his former apprentice?”

“They didn’t know.”

Grandpa smiled.

“I taught him everything except modesty.”

Tommy ignored him.

“I recognized the address.”

That explained one part.

Not the lawyer.

I looked at David.

“And you?”

He held up the folder.

“Paperwork.”

Grandpa had called him almost immediately after leaving the previous afternoon.

Not because he wanted to sue right away.

Because Grandpa had already become suspicious a week earlier when Grant started making comments about their renovation budget.

So he asked David what his options were if they refused final payment.

David reviewed the original contract.

Grandpa had done everything properly.

Written scope.

Approved change orders.

Invoices.

Payment schedule.

And, where required, the proper preliminary notices had already been handled.

Grandpa wasn’t improvising.

He knew exactly where he stood.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

David looked toward the house.

“That depends on them.”