He was told the evaluation was continuing.
Another month passed.
Then another.
Eventually, a letter arrived.
The company had decided not to pursue a commercial relationship.
Its explanation was brief.
The design did not align with its current development priorities.
The letter thanked him for his submission.
But when he requested the return of his prototype, the process became complicated.
The company claimed certain components had been transferred to an overseas technical office for assessment.
It asked for additional time.
Her father objected.
He contacted the attorney who had advised him.
The attorney sent a formal request for the materials' return.
Months later, a package arrived.
Inside was the wooden case.
Several drawings.
And the demonstration movement.
But one component was missing.
The original three-point floating bridge.
Her father examined the contents carefully.
Then contacted Aster & Vale.
The company said the missing component must have been misplaced during evaluation.
It offered to reimburse the cost of the material.
Her father stared at the letter.
The brass itself was worth almost nothing.
The design wasn't.
He refused the proposed reimbursement as a resolution of the issue.
He requested a complete account of where the component had gone.
The company responded that no further information was available.
The dispute continued through correspondence.
But her father lacked the money for prolonged litigation against a global corporation.
The attorney tried to help.
The family kept every document.
Every photograph.
Every submission acknowledgment.
Every design notebook.
And every letter.
But the legal process became painfully expensive.
The girl watched her father change.
He still repaired watches.
Still loved his customers.
Still smiled when she entered the workshop.
But sometimes she found him staring at the empty space inside the wooden prototype case.
Once, she asked why he didn't simply make another bridge.
He smiled.
βI can.β
βThen why are you upset?β