"Dutch would win every argument by saying it was his motorcycle. Arty would win by making it start." His voice roughened. "Don't rush it. I'd rather have the right answer Friday than a broken engine Thursday."
Rusty set down the phone and told the others what Jim had said. For the first time since the riders arrived, the men allowed themselves to believe that the deadline might be an achievable challenge rather than an approaching disaster. Dave fetched clean cloths, Tommy organized the drawings, and Pete returned to the mysterious wiring with renewed attention. Leo sat at the bench drawing a small picture of the FXR in his school notebook, its wheels too large and its handlebars crooked, but its dark tank unmistakable.
Before leaving, he added a tiny figure beside the motorcycle. It was a man in a cap standing with one hand on the seat, smiling. Under the drawing Leo wrote two words: DAD KNEW. He closed the notebook before anyone could see it, then carried Arthur's coat upstairs, where Rusty had promised to keep it clean until Nora could collect it. Wednesday ended without the engine starting, but no one in Apex Iron Works called it dead anymore.
Thursday began with a phone call that almost undid the hope Wednesday had created. A supplier in Sacramento reported that a compatible electrical component Rusty had requested would not arrive before Saturday, and the alternative he offered had a different connector and uncertain specifications. Rusty declined the substitute, unwilling to turn a restored engine into another gamble simply because the calendar demanded an answer. After hanging up, he stood in the front office and watched the traffic through the glass, wondering how many times a man could make the right decision while still fearing its consequences.
Dave found him there with a cup of coffee. "We can still work," he said. "Pete hasn't finished looking at the original harness, and the mechanical measurements are almost done. We don't need that part unless the one we've got fails inspection." He held out the cup. "You don't have to look like the funeral's already started."
Rusty took it. "Easy for you to say. Your name isn't on the building."
"My tools are," Dave replied. "And my paycheck comes from it. Don't mistake having your name on the lease for being the only one who cares."
The remark surprised Rusty more than he liked. He had been telling himself for days that the survival of Apex rested on his shoulders, without noticing that his workers had quietly carried the same fear. He thanked Dave, who nodded as if the acknowledgment was a small thing, then went back to the bench. The four mechanics had built the shop's reputation together, and if there was a way forward, they would have to find it together as well.
Leo arrived later that morning with Nora, who had arranged a few hours before her afternoon grocery shift to be there. He brought a pencil, his school notebook, and the folder of Arthur's papers, now carefully organized with paper clips. The excitement of discovering the locker had made him restless the previous evening, but Nora had insisted on a regular bedtime and a proper breakfast. Today he was less eager to impress anyone than to understand what yesterday's discoveries meant.