The woman pointed.
“If you keep running it, you’re going to damage the gear.”
The single father looked at the truck.
Then back at her.
“You got all that from the sound?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Your removed cap helped.”
She pointed at the discarded distributor cap on the cart.
“There’s uneven carbon tracking on one side.”
He picked it up.
He had looked at it a dozen times.
Now he saw it.
The pattern was subtle.
But there.
His face changed.
The woman noticed.
He put down the cap.
“Wait.”
She crossed her arms.
He pulled the distributor.
It took several minutes.
The woman said nothing.
She removed the emerald blazer.
Folded it carefully.
Placed it over the back of a chair.
Underneath she wore a fitted black blouse.
Then she removed her earrings.
Dropped them into her handbag.
The younger technician glanced at her heels.
She caught him looking.
“Yes, they’re stupid.”
He nearly choked.
She added:
“I wasn’t planning to work today.”
That answer made more sense.
The distributor came free.
The single father inspected the shaft.
At first nothing.
Then he pulled upward.
Movement.
Too much.
His expression froze.
The younger technician leaned closer.
“No way.”
The woman said:
“Measure it.”
The single father did.
Then again.
Outside specification.
He stared at the tool.
Then at her.
Two days.
He had spent nearly two days on the truck.
The polished stranger had listened for seconds.
His earlier sentence returned to him.
I need somebody who can actually work.
Shame moved up his neck.
The woman reached for her handbag.
“I should go.”
He stood.
“Wait.”
She paused.
He wiped his hands again even though it accomplished almost nothing.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
Her answer was so immediate that he almost smiled.
He deserved it.
“I judged you.”
“Yes.”
“Wrongly.”
“Yes.”
The younger technician found a reason to walk toward the back of the shop.
The single father sighed.
“You’re going to make me say the whole thing, aren’t you?”
The woman looked at him.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
That made it worse.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Something in her posture softened.
Only slightly.
“Thank you.”
Then she opened the handbag.
The single father expected a business card.