Jimmy sighed.
Then opened the rear door.
“Forty minutes.”
“To Harrington?”
“To decide whether I hate you.”
Beth entered beside him.
“I've had faster evaluations.”
“I'm sure.”
The suited man closed the door.
Jimmy sat against expensive brown leather.
Beth looked toward him.
His wet jeans were already leaving marks.
She smiled.
“What?”
“You were worried about the seats.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
He laughed despite himself.
The SUV pulled away.
Lucy Sullivan was in second-period science when her father texted:
I lost my job. I'm okay. Don't panic. We talk tonight.
She read it three times under the desk.
Then immediately panicked.
Her teacher confiscated the phone.
That created a separate problem.
By ten thirty, the school office called Jimmy.
He answered inside the SUV while Beth sat beside him reviewing the photographs he had taken of Line Four.
Jimmy listened.
“Yes.”
“No, she wasn't supposed to have the phone.”
“Yes, I understand.”
A pause.
“Can I talk to her?”
Beth looked toward him.
Jimmy's face softened the moment Lucy came on.
“Hey.”
Silence.
Then:
“I know.”
Another pause.
“No.”
“We're fine.”
He glanced at Beth.
“Something weird happened.”
Beth raised an eyebrow.
Jimmy continued.
“I'll explain later.”
More silence.
“No, I did not punch anybody.”
Beth covered a smile.
Jimmy frowned at her.
“Because you always ask.”
Longer silence.
Then Jimmy’s face changed.
“Lucy.”
His voice became gentler.
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
“You are not quitting robotics.”
Beth stopped smiling.
Jimmy continued.
“We'll figure it out.”
“Okay?”
He listened.
“I love you too.”
He ended the call.
For a moment, he stared at the phone.
Beth asked quietly:
“Robotics?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Regional team.”
“She's good?”
“She thinks she's good.”
“That usually means she is.”
“She is.”
He looked toward the window.
“Fees are due next week.”
Beth said nothing.
He immediately turned.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You thought it loudly.”
She almost laughed.
Jimmy continued:
“I don't want your money.”
“Fine.”
“Not as charity.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it.”
“I heard you.”
He stared.
She stared back.
Jimmy sighed.
“You're difficult.”
“My board says decisive.”
“They're afraid of you.”
“Sometimes.”
“Are they right?”
“Sometimes.”
He looked at her.
Beth’s expression shifted.
“Your daughter knows you lost your job before anyone at my company knows I'm investigating her father's termination.”
“That’s a strange sentence.”
“My life has become strange since the bus shelter.”
“You're blaming me?”
“I was peacefully stranded before you arrived.”
Jimmy smiled.
There.
The attraction again.
He looked away first.
Beth returned to the photographs.
One showed an electrical panel.
She zoomed.
“What am I looking at?”
“Safety relay.”
“Explain like I own companies but don't repair machinery.”
He almost laughed.
“The press should stop if that relay detects abnormal motion.”
“Okay.”