Leo continued drawing for a while. "Did Dad ever get so mad he scared people?"
"Sometimes he was impatient," Nora admitted. "He could be sharp with a stubborn bolt, and he hated being interrupted when he was counting measurements. But when he was wrong, he would say so. That's what I loved about him. Not that he never got angry. That he knew anger didn't give him permission to hurt anyone."
"I wish he'd met Mr. Jim again."
"Maybe they would have argued over the motorcycle for three hours and then eaten dinner like nothing had happened," Nora said. "Your father was good at that."
Leo laughed, and the sound was enough to ease something in her chest. He put down his pencil and stretched, suddenly looking every bit of his eight years rather than like a little engineer carrying an impossible responsibility. Nora sent him to brush his teeth and told him that if Friday went well, they would take a walk to the park on Saturday evening, whether or not they attended the memorial ride. She wanted him to know that their family still had a life beyond the shop.
In his bedroom, Leo unfolded the note Arthur had left with the spare parts. Rusty had made him a careful copy, leaving the original protected in the workshop until Nora could collect the entire file. Leo ran one finger beneath the line about asking questions, then placed the copy under his pillow. He did not pray for the motorcycle to run; he had never known whether his father would have approved of asking the world for a particular mechanical outcome. Instead, he whispered a good night to Arthur and hoped he would remember what mattered if the adults began to lose their patience.
Friday morning arrived beneath a pale sky. Fog lingered near the waterfront, making the streetlamps look tired, and the air had a coolness that would not last once the sun climbed. Rusty unlocked the garage earlier than he needed to, then stood for a moment in the empty doorway. The sign above the reception desk still promised a way to fix what could be fixed, but this morning the words seemed less arrogant, more like an invitation to keep trying.
By eight, the crew had assembled. Tommy checked the paper records for one last inconsistency, Pete confirmed that the battery remained healthy after the overnight rest, and Dave inspected the motorcycle's physical stability on the prepared work area. Rusty had put aside the usual rush of customer jobs for the morning and asked his receptionist to tell callers that he would return nonurgent messages after lunch. If the FXR was going to answer them, he wanted everyone available to listen.
Leo arrived at nine with Nora. She had arranged the morning off and planned to stand beside him through the demonstration. He wore his cleanest shirt, a faded blue one with a small rip Nora had repaired near the hem, and the shoes he normally saved for school. Arthur's cap was tucked beneath one arm, and Leo carried nothing else except the copied note and the drawing of the motorcycle he had made the night before.