I hadn't expected to spend the afternoon kneeling beside a diner table.
I offered my hand.
“Ma'am, I'm one of the Iron Ghosts. Most folks call me by my road name, but your boy seems to have other ideas.”
Tucker tugged my vest.
“I'm calling you Bear.”
Ron laughed.
The woman gave a shaky smile.
“I'm Angie.”
I nodded.
“It's good to meet you.”
She looked toward the money.
Then toward Tucker.
“Oh, honey.”
Her voice broke.
“You were trying to hire them?”
Tucker nodded.
“Yeah. They're really strong.”
Angie pressed her lips together.
She looked at me.
“I am so sorry. He saw the motorcycles outside, and I told him not to wander away from our table. I only looked down for a moment to get his medicine from my bag.”
I shook my head.
“You don't owe us an apology.”
She wiped her eyes.
“He's been asking how much it costs to make cancer go away.”
I looked at the boy.
Tucker had climbed onto an empty chair beside Ron.
He was explaining his monster drawing to the other bikers.
The big men listened as though he were presenting a plan to save the world.
Angie lowered her voice.
“He thinks everything has a price.”
I looked back at her.
“Most adults do too.”
She gave a sad little laugh.
Then she looked toward the table.
“I should take him back to our booth.”
I glanced toward the untouched breakfast plate visible near the window.
“Has he eaten?”
“A little.”
“Would he like some pancakes?”
She hesitated.
“I don't want to impose.”
I smiled.
“Ma'am, five bikers just got hired by a six-year-old accountant with seven dollars and forty cents. I think we're past worrying about imposing.”
Tucker shouted from the table.
“I'm five!”
I looked at him.
“My mistake, boss.”
He grinned.
The entire table laughed.
It was the first real laughter I'd heard that afternoon.
And I didn't know it yet, but it was the beginning of something that would change every one of us.
Angie sat down with Tucker after we convinced her to join us.
The waitress brought fresh pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, and juice.
Tucker ordered chocolate milk.
He insisted that Ron should have some too.
Ron claimed chocolate milk was only for little kids.
Tucker frowned.
“Then you gotta be little today.”
Ron immediately ordered a glass.
For the next twenty minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
Motorcycles.
Favorite cartoons.
Pancakes.
Whether bears could ride bicycles.
Tucker wanted to know why Ron had so much hair on his face and so little on his head.