Mark leaned against the counter.
For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Doc glanced toward Ellie's drawings on the refrigerator.
"She would've liked this place."
Mark looked at him.
"Your daughter?"
Doc nodded.
"She loved anything with wheels."
Mark followed his gaze.
There was a drawing of a blue car beside the refrigerator handle.
Ellie had written the word FAST across the bottom in uneven letters.
Mark smiled.
"I think they would've gotten along."
Doc looked down.
"Yeah."
He was quiet for several seconds.
Then he said, "I think they would."
By early December, the rear bay of the motorcycle shop had become a place of controlled chaos.
The engineers and fabricators had produced a more developed version of the three-wheeled vehicle. The engine and front of the machine retained the unmistakable character of a classic Harley, but the rear section had been adapted into a low passenger platform with a separate seating area.
The structure was still unfinished.
There were no decorative panels.
The proposed supports had not yet been finalized.
And every major component required inspection before the project could advance.
Doc spent his evenings checking paperwork, coordinating consultations, and working on ordinary customer repairs to keep the shop operating.
He had stopped counting the hours.
The project occupied his thoughts even when he wasn't working.
At breakfast, he found himself thinking about seating comfort.
While driving, he considered whether the planned experience would be too stimulating for Ellie.
At night, he sometimes woke with doubts that he couldn't easily dismiss.
What if the design was fundamentally wrong?
What if the doctors refused?
What if Rachel and Mark changed their minds?
What if Ellie saw the finished machine and loved it, only to discover she couldn't safely use it?
The possibilities frightened him.
One evening, Hank found him sitting alone in the rear bay.
The older biker looked toward the unfinished vehicle.
"You're still here."
Doc nodded.
Hank sat beside him.
"How's it going?"
"Slow."
"Slow isn't always bad."
Doc looked down.
Hank waited.
Finally, Doc said, "I keep thinking about what happens if we can't finish."
Hank considered that.
"Then you don't finish."
Doc looked at him.
Hank shrugged.
"You've already helped that family. You've listened to the doctors. You've gotten people involved who know what they're doing."
Doc shook his head.