Arthur took a step closer, the diesel exhaust from his truck curling between them in thick white clouds.

“If that girl doesn’t sign that paper by tomorrow morning, I’ll make one phone call to the trade council,” Arthur said.

“She won’t finish a sheet of drywall or touch a taping knife on any commercial build within fifty miles of Lancaster.”

“She earned eighteen hundred dollars,” Nathaniel said.

“She has nothing,” Arthur said, reaching out to grab the paper.

“And if you keep pushing this, Whitmore Construction will be looking for a new framing sub before the week is out.”