Jake closed his eyes.
“Lily.”
“What?”
Claire smiled.
“Apparently I am.”
Lily looked toward the shop.
“Dad says your alternator is weird.”
“Your father talks about customers at home?”
“Only interesting problems.”
Jake gave Lily a look.
She ignored him.
Claire asked:
“You want to be an engineer?”
Lily’s face changed instantly.
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Mechanical.”
“Maybe automotive.”
“Maybe robotics.”
“I haven't decided.”
“You don't need to.”
Lily looked surprised.
Most adults asked fourteen-year-olds for permanent career decisions as if adolescence was a contract negotiation.
Claire continued:
“Learn everything.”
“Specialize later.”
Lily nodded.
Jake watched.
Claire did not speak to Lily like a child.
She spoke to her like someone whose future mattered.
Jake liked that more than he wanted to admit.
Lily eventually disappeared into the back to work on a small engine.
Claire looked toward Jake.
“She’s impressive.”
“Yes.”
“You did well.”
Jake’s expression tightened.
“So did she.”
Claire understood the correction.
Children did not exist as parental accomplishments.
She nodded.
“So did she.”
Jake smiled slightly.
By noon, he and Claire sat outside the open bay with coffee.
Sunlight warmed the concrete.
Claire had removed her blazer.
Jake noticed.
Then pretended not to.
She wore a fitted cream top beneath it.
He looked at the Mustang instead.
Claire noticed that too.
“You're very disciplined.”
Jake frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No.”
“That sounded like something.”
Claire smiled.
“Maybe it was.”
Jake looked at her.
For several seconds neither spoke.
The distance between them suddenly seemed smaller.
Claire broke eye contact first.
She looked toward the Mustang.
“Why save something that old?”
Jake followed her gaze.
“It was rusting in a field.”
“Most people would scrap it.”
“Most people did give up on it.”
“Exactly.”
Jake thought.
Then said:
“Some things are worth saving even when everybody else decided they're finished.”
Claire turned slowly.
Their eyes met.
Something in her expression shifted.
Jake had seen similar looks from people after he diagnosed problems they hoped did not exist.
Recognition.
But this was different.
Personal.
Claire looked down at her coffee.
“There's a charity gala tomorrow night.”
Jake blinked.
“That was an aggressive subject change.”
“It’s intentional.”
“Okay.”
“At the Grand Harmon.”
Jake whistled softly.
“I've repaired cars worth less than one night there.”
“I need someone to come with me.”
“You have friends.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Husband?”
“No.”
Jake nodded.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“Collecting data?”
“Preventing accidental homicide.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“I need a date.”
Jake almost choked on coffee.
“For the gala?”