There would be no enormous profits.
No spectacular financial return.
But the project could support its operating expenses, preserve a historic building, and offer a reasonable long-term return to the property owner.
It was not charity disguised as business.
It was a business plan built around a different understanding of value.
And for the first time, Maggie believed it might actually work.
The trouble was that someone had decided she should not be allowed to present it.
Three days before the board review, Arthur Whitcomb sent a letter.
It was delivered to Tessa's shop by messenger.
Maggie opened it at the worktable.
As she read, her face changed.
Tessa looked up.
“What is it?”
Maggie stared at the letter.
“Arthur.”
“What does he want?”
“He claims Bell & Whitcomb owns the Starlight drawings.”
Tessa put down her scissors.
“What?”
“He says I prepared them using company resources and that I have no authority to submit the proposal independently.”
Tessa crossed the room.
She read the letter.
Then swore.
Maggie almost laughed.
Almost.
“He's threatening legal action.”
Tessa looked at her.
“Can he do that?”
“He can threaten it.”
“Does he own your work?”
“No.”
Maggie spoke with sudden certainty.
“I prepared the original designs on my own time, before the foundation reception. I paid for the surveys. I have the dated sketches, receipts, and correspondence.”
“Then he's bluffing.”
“Probably.”
Tessa folded the letter.
“Call a lawyer.”
Maggie looked down.
She could scarcely afford the engineer's latest invoice.
A solicitor's bill was the last thing she needed.
But the project had become too important to risk.
She contacted an attorney recommended by a former professor.
By evening, she had provided copies of her dated drawings, independent contracts, and correspondence establishing that the restoration proposal had been developed outside her employment duties.
The attorney drafted a response disputing Arthur's claim and demanding that he identify any specific work he believed belonged to the firm.
Then Maggie did something that surprised even Tessa.
She telephoned Arthur.
He answered after three rings.
“Whitcomb.”
“Arthur. It's Margaret Bennett.”
A pause.
“Margaret.”
“I received your letter.”
“I assumed you would.”
She drew a breath.
“My attorney will respond formally.”
Silence.
Then Arthur said, “I don't think that will be necessary.”
“I do.”
“Margaret, let's be reasonable.”
She almost laughed.
For years, he had used that word whenever he wanted her to surrender something.
Now she was finished surrendering.
“I have original drawings dating back to July. Independent engineering contracts. Receipts. Witnesses. I didn't use any confidential design prepared for Bell & Whitcomb.”
Arthur's voice hardened.
“You have no idea how difficult this industry can be for someone starting out.”
“I think I have a very good idea.”
“Burning bridges is a serious mistake.”
Maggie looked around Tessa's shop.
At the drawings covering the walls.
The little table where she had spent so many sleepless nights.
The work she had completed without anyone granting permission.
“Arthur,” she said quietly, “I spent years waiting for you to open a door.”
He said nothing.