The building was exactly as the Google reviews had described, small, cramped, desperately in need of a paint job, but it was his, at least for another few months. He unlocked the gate and raised the bay doors, letting morning light flood the workspace. The shop smelled like oil and metal and years of accumulated automotive history. Sophie immediately claimed the office, a glasswalled box with a desk, a computer from 2012, and a filing system that could generously be called chaotic. I'm doing homework, she announced, pulling out a math workbook.
I can see that. Ethan flipped on the lights, checked the schedule. One oil change at 10:00, a brake job at noon, and a diagnostic on a Subaru that had been making a noise the owner couldn't describe beyond bad. He was elbowed deep in the oil change when his phone rang. Unknown number.
He almost didn't answer, assuming it was another creditor, but something made him wipe his hands on a rag and pick up. Cole's auto. Mr. Cole, this is Patricia Morrison from First National Bank. His stomach dropped.
Yeah. Hi, I'm calling about your business loan. We haven't received this month's payment, and according to our records, you're now 60 days past due. Ethan glanced toward the office where Sophie was bent over her homework. He stepped outside into the small parking lot, pulling the door mostly closed.
I know, I'm working on it. I understand that business can be unpredictable, but we need to discuss your options. If you're unable to make the payment, I'll make the payment. When? Soon.
I have some jobs coming in next week and Mr. Cole. Patricia's voice was kind but firm which somehow made it worse. We've had this conversation before. The bank can't continue extending indefinitely.
If you can't make a payment by the end of the month, we'll have to begin foreclosure proceedings. The words hit like a physical blow, even though he'd known they were coming. End of the month, 3 weeks. I understand, he managed. Is there family who might be able to help?
A loan from a relative? He thought about Sarah barely making ends meet herself with two kids and a teacher's salary. No. Then I strongly suggest you speak with a financial advisor. There are options for businesses in your situation.
I'll figure it out. Thank you for calling. He hung up before she could say anything else and stood in the parking lot staring at the cracked asphalt trying to breathe through the tightness in his chest. 3 weeks. The oil change customer arrived right on time, which meant Ethan had to shove the panic down and act like everything was fine.
He finished the job, took payment in cash, and added it to the envelope in his desk drawer where he kept the running tally of how far behind he was. Not nearly far enough. Sophie appeared in the doorway as the customer drove away. Dad, you okay? Yeah, kiddo.
Just thinking about what boring adult stuff. She studied him with those two knowing eyes. Was it a bad phone call? It was fine. You're lying, Sophie.
You get this look when you're worried about money. Your face goes all tight and you stop smiling. She crossed her arms, looking way too much like her aunt. I'm not a baby. I know things are hard.
Ethan pulled her into a hug, feeling the familiar weight of failure press down on his shoulders. Things are fine. I promise. You're lying again. Yeah, I am.
They stood there in the doorway of the shop, and Ethan wondered when his daughter had gotten old enough to see through him so easily, when she'd stopped believing that parents had all the answers. The Jaguar pulled into the parking lot at 11:30. Ethan was under the Subaru, tracing a mysterious rattle that seemed to move every time he got close, when he heard the distinctive purr of the British engine. He rolled out from under the car, grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, and there she was. Vivien Hart, stepping out of her vintage car like she was arriving at a charity gala instead of a run-down repair shop in Georgetown.
She wore jeans today, actual jeans, and a simple white shirt, but she still looked like money. It was in the way she moved, the way she carried herself. Sophie appeared from the office like she'd been shot from a cannon. Is that her? Is that the date lady?
Sophie? Hi, I'm Sophie. Are you my dad's girlfriend? Viven's expression flickered through several emotions before landing on amused. I'm Vivien and we'll have to see about the girlfriend part.
That means yes, Sophie informed her father. That means nothing. Ethan shot his daughter a look that she completely ignored. Sorry, she's eight and has no filter. I have a filter.
I just choose not to use it. Vivian laughed and the sound was different than it had been at the diner. Lighter. I like her already. You say that now.
Ethan gestured toward the shop. You actually came. I said I would think about it. I thought about it. Here I am.
She walked into the bay and he watched her take in the cramped space, the ancient equipment, the oil stains that had probably been there since the 70s. To her credit, her expression didn't change. It's small, she said. That's a generous word for it. But it's yours for now.
Something shifted in her expression. What does that mean? Ethan glanced at Sophie, who was pretending not to listen while very obviously listening. Nothing. Just business stuff.
Dad's shop is closing, Sophie said matterofactly. The bank is taking it. Sophie, what? It's true. I heard you on the phone.
Viven looked between them and Ethan felt heat crawl up his neck. This was not the impression he'd wanted to make. Desperate mechanic, failing business, eavesdropping daughter. It's not closing, he said firmly. We're just having a rough month.
Three rough months, Sophie corrected. I count the envelopes on your desk. Why do you Never mind. Go back to your homework. But homework now.