She looked at the motorcycle.
“I have to make a decision.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“No.”
Sarah's exhaustion flashed into anger.
“Stop saying no like that fixes things.”
Mason became quiet.
Ray slowly moved toward the far workbench.
He had been married long enough to recognize when a conversation required distance.
Sarah lowered her voice.
“The bank doesn't care what that motorcycle means.”
Mason said nothing.
“The hospital doesn't care.”
Nothing.
“The landlord from the old shop doesn't care.”
“Sarah—”
“We sold almost everything Daniel owned.”
Her voice broke on his name.
She recovered.
“Tools.”
“Compressor.”
“The red lift.”
“His parts cabinets.”
“The sign.”
“I kept one motorcycle because Eli sleeps better when I tell him it will still be there when he's older.”
Mason looked toward the boy.
Eli stood near a rolling stool, quietly tracing one finger along its rubber edge.
Not listening, perhaps.
Children heard more than adults believed.
Sarah continued.
“Victor offered eighteen thousand.”
Mason's face hardened instantly.
“No.”
Sarah laughed without humor.
“There it is again.”
“Bike is worth more.”
“Running.”
“It will run.”
“You've said that for six days.”
“And I'll say it for sixty.”
“I don't have sixty.”
Mason stepped closer.
“Do not sell that bike to Victor Crane.”
“Then tell me what to sell instead.”
He stopped.
There was the answer he did not have.
Sarah looked away.
The motorcycle represented history to Mason.
To Sarah, history had invoices attached.
She whispered, “He raised the offer.”
Mason frowned.
“To what?”
“Twenty-two.”
Ray's head turned from across the shop.
Even he disliked the number.
Mason said, “He knows it's worth at least twice that in this condition if the problem is repairable.”
“If.”
“It is.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
The admission surprised her.
Mason continued.
“But Victor doesn't know it's dead either.”
“He says the main control and ignition conversion Daniel installed are failing together.”
“Victor says many things.”
“He gave me an estimate.”
“Of course he did.”
Sarah looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Mason exhaled.
It would be easy to turn his suspicion into accusation.
He did not.
“Means he wants the bike.”
“Everyone knows that.”
“Exactly.”
Victor Crane had tried to buy it from Daniel three times.
The first offer came five years earlier.
The second after Daniel completed most of the mechanical restoration.
The third less than two months before Daniel died.
Daniel refused every time.
Not angrily.
Almost cheerfully.
Victor disliked cheerful refusal.
He liked transactions where the other person needed him.
Mason did not trust that kind of man.
That was not evidence.
So he kept the thought to himself.
Sarah asked, “What did the bank say?”
Mason loosened his tie.
“Nothing useful.”
“Mason.”
“I asked about a short-term loan against the shop.”
Her eyes widened.
“You did what?”
“Asked.”
“For me?”
“For a business purpose.”
“What business purpose?”
“I haven't invented one yet.”
“Mason.”
He looked down.
She stepped toward him.
“You are not putting your shop at risk because I can't pay my bills.”
“I’m not.”
“You just said—”