"Before they lost their jobs?"
She hesitated.
"Not early enough."
He was quiet.
Then said, "That would've been hard on them."
Nora nodded.
"It was."
He asked why she had made the decision.
She explained the financial situation.
The alternatives.
The pressure from investors.
The eventual changes to how her company handled restructuring.
Daniel listened.
Then nodded.
"I understand why you thought it was necessary."
She felt relief.
Then he added, "Doesn't mean I like how it was handled."
Nora laughed softly.
"Neither do I, looking back."
For the first time in years, she found herself enjoying a conversation in which someone neither flattered her nor treated her success as a moral failure.
Daniel respected what she had built.
But he did not worship it.
And slowly, Nora began to believe he might be capable of loving the woman she had become.
Not because she was a billionaire.
And not despite it.
But because he could see that her wealth was one part of a much larger life.
Daniel's recovery progressed steadily.
His cardiologist adjusted his treatment plan after follow-up testing and instructed him to return to work gradually, observing specific activity limits and warning signs.
Daniel followed the guidance.
Not perfectly at first.
He was accustomed to working through exhaustion.
But the memory of Lucy's frightened face helped him change.
He began arriving at the garage later.
Took breaks.
Drank water.
Ate lunch instead of forgetting it.
And allowed Ethan to manage difficult repair jobs without hovering over his shoulder.
The younger mechanic proved more than capable.
Daniel began wondering whether he had delayed giving Ethan greater responsibility because he was afraid of becoming unnecessary.
One afternoon, he watched Ethan diagnose an electrical problem in a vintage truck.
The repair was difficult.
The customer was impatient.
But Ethan explained every step clearly and refused to rush the work.
Daniel smiled.
Arthur noticed.
The old man had come by with a bag of sandwiches.
"What?"
Daniel looked toward him.
"Nothing."
Arthur followed his gaze.
"Ethan's good."
"He is."
"Then stop treating him like a boy."
Daniel laughed.
"I don't."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Daniel sighed.
"All right. Sometimes."
They sat beside the open garage door.
A warm breeze moved through the lot.
Arthur handed him a sandwich.
For a while, they ate.
Then the old mechanic spoke.
"Thinking of letting him run the place?"
Daniel considered it.
"Eventually."
"Why eventually?"
He looked toward the tools.
"I don't know."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Because you've spent so long being needed that you don't know who you are when you aren't holding the wrench."
Daniel turned.
The words struck him.
Arthur continued.
"I did the same thing."
Daniel laughed.
"You never retired properly."
"Exactly."