Derek watched through the glass as Gloria climbed the bus steps and settled into the driver's seat. The engine turned over on the second attempt, giving a brief puff of gray exhaust before smoothing into a steady idle. He walked toward Anna with Kelsey at his shoulder, his smile already shaped into something mocking. "You spent half the morning on the woman who came in that rusted bus," he said. "Tell me she at least ordered a keychain."
"She asked for a fleet consultation," Anna answered, gathering her notes. "I have an appointment at her depot tomorrow morning." Kelsey laughed. "Her depot?
Do you mean that parking lot she calls a business?" Anna looked at her, then at Derek. "I don't know how large the business is yet, which is why I'm going to see it."
Derek shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. "You're new enough to think everybody who walks through the door is a lead." "Everybody who walks through the door is a person," Anna said. "A lead is something I work out after I've listened." The answer made his eyes harden for a moment. He was accustomed to being laughed with, not answered plainly.
"Do whatever makes you feel useful," he said, turning away. "Just don't come back complaining when the yellow bus orders nothing." Anna watched him go, then looked toward the silver van still wrapped in its absurd plastic barrier. She removed the stanchions herself, folded the protective sheet, and asked the inventory coordinator to check that the vehicle was still available for a proper inspection later in the week. Only then did she sit down and enter her appointment with Gloria Hayes into the dealership's customer system.
She typed exactly what she knew. A potential commercial fleet buyer seeking passenger vans for existing college and university shuttle routes. An on-site operations visit scheduled for the following morning. The need for dependable service support, timely delivery, and a carefully specified proposal. She did not type wealthy, unqualified, difficult, or likely to waste time. Those were guesses, and Anna had been raised to understand that guesses were poor substitutes for facts.
A little after six, Gloria drove the yellow bus through the gate of Hayes Transportation, a broad industrial yard bordered by a low brick office and two long maintenance buildings. Her dispatch supervisor, Emma Shaw, looked up from a route map as the bus came through. "Back already?"
Emma called. "I thought you'd finally let Calvin put that thing in a museum." Gloria smiled through the open window. "A museum would have to promise me it would change the oil on schedule."
She parked beside the wash bay and climbed down slowly, feeling the familiar stiffness in her knees after a long day. The depot had begun as a rented gravel lot barely big enough for two vehicles, and even now its busiest hours still felt to Gloria like a miracle that could disappear if someone stopped paying attention. Drivers were returning from afternoon runs, checking mirrors, completing defect reports, and taking calls from dispatch about the next morning's schedule. Across the yard, newer white minibuses stood in straight rows, their company markings clean and their inspection tags current.