“I'm thinking we've spent thirty years fixing things in a building somebody else gets to decide the future of.”
Dean looked toward the paper.
Then back at him.
“Maybe she'll sell it to you.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“With what money?”
Dean didn't answer.
They both knew the shop wasn't prepared for a property purchase.
Even after Sarah improved the accounts, the business carried debt from equipment purchases, a recent lift repair, and several slow months.
There was no enormous savings account waiting to rescue them.
Marcus looked toward the coffee can beside the office door.
A few customers had noticed the label and dropped in spare change.
It now held twenty-three dollars and sixty-eight cents.
The amount was small.
But every time Marcus looked at it, he remembered Ethan.
A boy willing to empty his savings so his mother could keep working.
Now Marcus was facing a problem that threatened the employment of everyone in the garage.
And he had no idea how much repair this one would buy.
Lucas Hale called that evening.
Marcus stared at the name on his phone.
For several seconds, he hesitated.
Then answered.
“Hey, son.”
There was a pause.
“Hi, Dad.”
Lucas was thirty-five, a high-school mathematics teacher living outside Harrisburg with his wife, Natalie, and their seven-year-old daughter, Sophie.
He had inherited his father's height but not his appearance.
Where Marcus was broad and intimidating, Lucas was lean, clean-shaven, and quiet. He wore glasses, preferred books to engines, and could never understand why his father insisted upon repairing everything himself.
They loved one another.
But their conversations had become careful.
Brief.
And full of things neither seemed willing to say.
Lucas asked about the garage.
Marcus said business was fine.
Lucas asked about Dean.
Marcus said Dean was getting older but still complained just as loudly.
Then Marcus asked about Sophie.
Lucas's voice softened.
“She's good. Started second grade.”
Marcus smiled.
“Already?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, the conversation became quiet.
Then Lucas continued.
“She has a school event next month.”
Marcus looked toward the calendar.
“What kind?”
“A family science day. Kids get to bring projects and show people what they've learned.”
“That sounds nice.”
Lucas hesitated.
Then asked.
“Would you want to come?”
Marcus stared toward the workbench.
For a moment, he pictured the drive.
The time away from the garage.
The jobs waiting.
And the problem with the building lease.
He felt the familiar instinct to say he was too busy.
Then he remembered Sarah kneeling beside Ethan.
That isn't your job to fix.
And his own father's words.
Helping doesn't mean pretending your own bills don't exist.
Marcus took a breath.
“What day?”