Yeah. Today was my favorite day in a very long time. He smiled despite himself. Mine, too. That night, lying in bed, Ethan thought about his daughter's words.
Don't mess it up. Simple advice from an 8-year-old who somehow understood more about relationships than he did. He wouldn't mess it up, or at least he'd try not to. Tuesday morning arrived cold and gray. Typical Seattle weather that threatened rain without actually delivering.
Ethan opened the shop at 8:30, giving himself time to make sure everything looked as professional as possible before James Morrison arrived. He'd swept the floors, organized the tools, even cleaned the office windows. It still looked like a struggling repair shop in Georgetown, but at least it was a clean, struggling repair shop. Morrison showed up exactly at 9, driving a Heart Industries fleet van that had definitely seen better days. He was in his 50s, heavy set with the weathered look of someone who'd spent decades managing logistics.
Mr. Cole. He shook Ethan's hand firmly. James Morrison. Thanks for meeting with me.
Call me Ethan and thanks for coming out. They walked through the shop. Morrison asking questions about capacity, turnaround times, part sourcing. Ethan answered honestly. He could handle maybe 15 vehicles a week if he stayed on top of scheduling, more if he hired help.
Miss Hart mentioned you work alone. Morrison said, "For now, I had to let my last guy go a few months back. This contract would change that. We're looking at regular maintenance on about 50 vehicles a month, plus emergency repairs as needed. You'd need at least one other mechanic, maybe two. " Ethan's heart rate kicked up.
"That's a lot of work. It's steady work. Guaranteed payment. 30-day terms. We're not the fastest payers in the world, but we always pay. " They discussed rates, scheduling, expectations.
Morrison was straightforward and fair, treating Ethan like a professional instead of someone to be managed. By the time they finished, Ethan had a preliminary contract in hand and a start date of next Monday. Welcome to the Hart Industries family, Morrison said, shaking his hand again. And between you and me, M. Hart doesn't usually get personally involved in vendor selection.
Whatever you did to impress her, keep doing it. Ethan felt heat crawl up his neck. "We're friends. " Morrison smiled knowingly. "Sure you are. See you Monday, Ethan. " After he left, Ethan sat in his office and stared at the contract.
50 vehicles a month, steady work, enough income to catch up on his loan, hire help, maybe even start thinking about expansion. All because Vivien Hart had broken down on a dark road, and he'd stopped to help. His phone buzzed. Vivien, how did it go? Good.
Really good. Morrison seems solid. He is. Been with the company 15 years. If he likes you, you're set.
Thank you for this for everything. Stop thanking me. You earned this still. Thank you. A pause.