Loan from community bank.
Small investor stake from Megan's husband.
No money from Clare.
At opening, Clare gave him a wrench engraved:
FIX WHAT YOU CAN. STAY FOR WHAT YOU CAN'T.
Dean stared at it.
"That is terrible."
"You love it."
"I hate engraved tools."
"You love me."
"Unfortunately."
She kissed him.
Evan cut ribbon with giant scissors.
The shop became successful slowly.
Dean preferred slowly.
Clare learned not every good thing needed scale.
He learned accepting help did not equal losing independence.
Both changed.
Neither disappeared.
Two years after the roadside reunion, Dean took Clare back to the exact shoulder where her sedan had broken.
Not intentionally romantic.
At least he claimed.
She did not believe him.
They parked safely off road.
Autumn again.
Wet leaves.
Cold morning.
Evan was at Megan's.
Clare wore jeans and Dean's jacket.
They stood near the spot.
"You planned this."
"No."
"You drove forty minutes out of the way."
"Scenic."
"Dean."
He smiled.
Then removed a small box.
Clare stopped.
"Oh."
"Don't."
"What?"
"Cry before I say anything."
"I'm not crying."
"You are."
"Wind."
"Of course."
Dean looked at the box.
Then at her.
"I had a speech."
"Good."
"I forgot it."
"Excellent."
He laughed nervously.
Clare reached for his hand.
Dean steadied.
"Nine years ago, you left because we thought love meant one of us had to become smaller."
Clare swallowed.
"Then we spent nine years proving we could survive without each other."
"We did."
"We built lives."
"We loved other people."
"We lost people."
"We changed."
He looked toward road.
"And then your car broke."
Clare laughed through tears.
Dean continued.
"I'm grateful for a loose steering connector, which is not a sentence I expected to say."
She laughed harder.
He opened the box.
Ring.
Simple.
Elegant.
Clare covered her mouth.
Dean said:
"I don't want the life we almost had at twenty-five."
Her eyes widened.
"I want the one we have now."
"Evan."
"Anna's memory."
"Your work."
"My shop."
"Boston."
"Vermont."
"Arguments."
"Missed dinners."
"Interruptions."
"All of it."
He took breath.
"Clare Addison, will you marry me tomorrow?"
She stared.
"Tomorrow?"
He smiled.
"Not literally."
"Our rule."
Understanding washed over her.
Tomorrow.
One day.
Then another.
She nodded.
"Yes."
Dean blinked.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
She threw her arms around him.
He laughed.
They kissed beside the road where chance had found them again.
A truck honked as it passed.
Clare pulled back.
"Very romantic."
"Vermont blessing."
She looked at ring.
Then him.
"Dean."
"What?"
"I have to tell you something."
His face changed.
"What?"
She smiled.