A Customer Congratulated Me On Retiring From My Own Auto Shop—Then A Landlord Arrived To Discuss The Expansion I Never Approved

PART 12

Six months later, Mercer Auto had one location, four bays, nine employees, and no plans hidden in anybody’s desk.

We hired an operations coordinator named Jasmine who had worked at a body shop and asked sharper questions than Cal ever did about vendor terms. Marcus ran diagnostics three mornings a week. Eli had become annoyingly good at electrical work.

I worked in the bays Tuesday through Thursday and one Friday morning a month. Mondays were for training, customer consults, and the business tasks I used to postpone until after dark.

I still got grease on my clothes.

I also left before six.

Cal called every few weeks. His new operation had not opened yet, but he was learning. He had opinions about our waiting-room chairs.

I ignored them.

One Saturday, Mrs. Avery returned with her daughter, who had just bought a used Honda.

“I told her you’d look at it,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Did you ask whether I was working today?”

Mrs. Avery smiled. “Mallory said Marcus does pre-purchase inspections Saturdays.”

“Then why am I involved?”

“I wanted to say hello.”

That was new.

I laughed.

Marcus took the Honda. I poured coffee and stood by the open bay door while morning light fell across the shop floor.

The old workbench still had Dad’s burn mark near the vise. Bay Three still pulled slightly to the left because the concrete had settled. The cornhole boards from the customer cookout were stacked badly in the storage room.

Nothing looked like a corporate future.

It looked like mine.

Not because I touched every problem.

Because I had finally chosen the size of the life attached to it.

When Marcus called from the bay, “Dana, you want to hear something weird?”

I started toward him on instinct.

Then I stopped.

“Do you need me?” I called back.

He leaned around the lift.

“No. I just thought you’d like it.”

I smiled.

“That’s different.”