I believe there has been a clerical misunderstanding. The workshop is fine.” “I thought so,” I replied. “I expect a formal retraction letter, sent via certified mail, on my porch by Thursday. Have a wonderful evening, gentlemen.” I turned on my heel and walked out of the community center, the heavy glass doors shutting quietly behind me.

The cool night air felt incredibly refreshing. As I walked back to my house, I looked into the backyard. The moonlight was catching the roof of Frank’s workshop, sitting sturdy and safe under the old oak tree. I could almost hear that deep, rumbling laugh echoing in the dark.

They thought they were dealing with a helpless widow. They didn’t realize they had just picked a fight with the architect of their own house.