About his father.
About Helen.
About all the reasons kindness had become tangled with his grief.
Instead, he smiled.
“Because we had the right part and a little help.”
Teresa nodded.
Then she reached into her handbag.
She removed three dollars.
Marcus began shaking his head.
She smiled.
“Not for my bill.”
He stopped.
She looked toward the coffee can.
“For the next one.”
Marcus stared.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
Teresa dropped the money inside.
Her daughter watched.
Then she reached into her own pocket and added a dime.
The coin landed with a bright metallic sound.
Marcus looked toward the little girl.
She smiled.
“My mom says sharing is good.”
His eyes filled.
He nodded.
“Your mom's right.”
After they left, Marcus stood beside the can for a long time.
Dean approached.
“What's wrong?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Dean studied him.
Then looked toward the label.
“You know, if this keeps going, we ought to keep real records.”
Marcus laughed.
“Sarah's already told me.”
Dean nodded.
“She's right.”
Marcus glanced toward the desk.
Sarah had begun organizing the program's transactions separately from ordinary shop revenue so they could account clearly for what was contributed and how money was used. She was careful not to describe donations as tax-deductible, because the garage was a private business rather than a registered charity.
She also insisted that Marcus stop promising help without checking the account first.
He disliked that part.
But he knew she was right.
The coffee can could help someone.
It couldn't become an excuse to endanger the jobs of everyone who worked there.
Eleanor Pratt visited the garage in early October.
She arrived driving an immaculate cream-colored sedan and carrying a leather handbag that looked older than Luis.
Marcus saw her through the office window.
He immediately stood.
“Mrs. Pratt.”
She smiled.
“Hello, Marcus.”
He wiped his hands before shaking hers.
“How've you been?”
“Old.”
He laughed.
“You look fine.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Flattery won't lower your rent.”
Marcus smiled.
Then his expression changed.
He knew why she had come.
Eleanor looked toward the garage.
For a moment, her eyes softened.
“I remember when your father first rented this place.”
Marcus nodded.
“Wasn't much to look at then.”
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
“He said he only needed a roof and a place to work.”
Marcus looked toward the lifts.
“He made it into something.”
Eleanor nodded.
Then took a breath.
“Marcus, I wanted to speak to you before the sale moves forward.”
His stomach tightened.
“All right.”
She looked toward the office.
“Can we sit?”
They moved inside.
Sarah was working at the desk and offered to leave, but Eleanor asked whether she handled the business records.