“You hate furniture.”
“I hate sanding.”
“Everybody hates sanding.”
Dad nodded solemnly.
“That is true.”
I continued.
“You’re good at restoration. Dad knows design. I know numbers.”
Mom looked up.
“And Veronica knows clients.”
Veronica nearly dropped her coffee.
“What?”
Mom shrugged.
“You sold six restored chairs to those hotel people after they rejected Derek’s first quote.”
Derek looked at his wife.
“That is also true.”
Veronica smiled uncertainly.
“So what are we saying?”
Dad looked around the table.
“I think we’re saying your grandfather was irritatingly patient.”
The workshop project began cautiously.
No one quit a job.
No one borrowed money.
No one promised more than we could afford.
We hired an engineer to inspect the surviving structure.
It could be restored.
The county allowed a small commercial woodworking operation with conditions.
The trust would lease the building to a new family company at a modest rate, keeping property ownership separate from business operations.
