“I’m not taking your money.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Pride?”
“Schedule.”
“What?”
“My daughter’s waiting for me.”
“That doesn’t explain why you won’t take payment.”
Owen started toward his truck.
The woman followed.
“You could at least let me cover your time.”
He laughed.
“Lady, tomorrow morning a finance company is taking my garage. Your fifty bucks isn’t fixing my week.”
He regretted saying it immediately.
Not because it was private.
Because pity was exhausting.
The woman stopped.
Owen kept walking.
Then heard:
“What finance company?”
He closed his eyes.
Kept moving.
She called louder.
“Which one?”
Owen turned.
Snow gathered in her hair.
“Why?”
“Because you said tomorrow morning.”
“So?”
“It’s Christmas.”
“Apparently debt works holidays.”
“Which company?”
He gave up.
“Vale North.”
Something changed in her face.
Not dramatically.
A stillness.
“Vale North Capital?”
“That’s the one.”
She looked toward the toolbox.
“Is that the letter?”
Owen glanced down.
The cream envelope had slipped partly from beneath the rag.
“Yes.”
“When did you receive it?”
“Yesterday.”
“What time is possession?”
“Eight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“That’s generally how Christmas works.”
She stepped closer.
“What is the property?”
“Garage.”
“Name?”
Owen stared.
“Why do you care?”
“Name.”
There was suddenly something in her tone that sounded less like curiosity and more like authority.
Owen disliked it instantly.
“Harper Auto & Machine.”
Her expression emptied.
Then her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Answered.
“Yes?”
A man spoke loudly enough that Owen could hear pieces.
“Ms. Vale, we need confirmation on tomorrow’s distressed-property actions. Regional team is holding the Harper garage file because legal flagged the holiday timing, but collections says your restructuring directive—”
The woman closed her eyes.
Owen stopped breathing.
She said:
“Repeat the property.”
“Harper Auto & Machine. County Road Nine. Possession at eight.”
Owen stared.
The man continued.
“Should I authorize?”
The woman looked directly at Owen.
“No.”
A pause.
“Cancel it.”
“Ma’am?”
“Cancel every action on that property.”
“Collections already dispatched—”
“Then undispatch them.”
“Legal—”
“Call legal.”
“Regional—”
“Call regional.”
“Nothing moves.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ms. Vale.”
She ended the call.
Snow fell between them.
Owen looked toward the sedan.
Then her face.
Then the burgundy coat.
“Vale.”
She removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were gray-green.
“Yes.”