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.”