He looked at the third condition for a long time. Years earlier, the only household he had been trying to save was his own. Now Walter and Ray's families were tied to the workshop, and there were other men in the county who would work if he could offer reliable wages. He would not gamble their stability on a vague promise from a bank that had already underestimated the work once.
The next morning Larkin called to ask whether Earl had a counteroffer. Earl said he did, but not yet a signed contract. He wanted the bank to understand the terms, ask questions, and agree to a process before anybody moved a truck. Larkin sounded impatient.
Earl waited until the manager stopped talking, then explained that the most expensive mistake the bank could make now would be to rush again.
The next meeting took place in Earl's kitchen, not in Larkin's office. Earl had chosen the location deliberately, though he gave the manager no explanation. On the table lay the inspection notes, a handwritten cost estimate, and a clean copy of the draft agreement the bank had sent. In the corner near the window stood the second table, its whiskey-dark center stripe still straight after years of changing seasons.
Larkin entered looking tired. He took off his coat, glanced at the table, and ran his fingertips over the smooth oak without realizing Earl was watching. "Still holding up?" he asked. Earl nodded.
"Long enough that I've stopped checking it every morning." Larkin seemed almost amused. "I'm learning that the checking is why it holds up."
They sat across from one another. Walter and Ray joined them because Earl wanted the men who would perform much of the work to hear the expectations before the contract became binding. Larkin looked surprised by their presence. At the bank, labor was usually discussed as a line in a projected expense column rather than as people sitting beside the table.
Earl began with the inspection results. He explained which barrels could be considered for premium material, which needed further evaluation, and which should never enter the processing line. He described the absence of reliable storage histories for parts of the inventory and why those gaps limited what he could promise. Larkin listened more carefully than he had in the storage yard years earlier.
"If the market is paying four hundred dollars or more for selected stock, why not process every barrel you can?" he asked. Earl shook his head. "Because that's the price of selected stock. It isn't a price for every object that happens to be round and made of oak." He pointed to the rejection photographs. "You don't improve these by calling them inventory."
Walter explained how material moved through the Whitaker workshop, from receipt and inspection to disassembly, conditioning, grading, and shipment. Ray described the drying records and showed sample tags with dates and condition notes. They spoke plainly, without technical language they could not explain. Larkin asked questions and wrote down the answers.