Rusty stared at the envelope. He was grateful for the money, but it no longer seemed like the most important part of the afternoon. "Jim, I don't want to pretend this was all my doing. My crew did the work, but we were stuck until Leo spoke. And we wouldn't have had the right parts without Arthur's notes."
"Then put that in the invoice too," Jim replied. "I don't have a problem giving credit where it belongs."
Rusty nodded. "I'll cover the shop's expenses, pay the crew for every extra hour, and make sure Nora receives fair compensation for the materials from Arthur's locker. No one gave up those parts for free just because we needed them." He looked at Nora. "If that's all right with you."
Nora was surprised by the offer, but she appreciated that he spoke to her directly rather than treating Leo as the owner of decisions he was too young to make alone. She asked for a written inventory and a little time to review the arrangement. Rusty agreed immediately, promising that the family would retain the original drawings and any unused items. The repair had taught him that respect was more convincing when it appeared in paperwork and ordinary behavior than in a speech made while everyone was cheering.
Jim returned to Leo and opened his hand. A small silver medallion lay across his palm, its winged design worn smooth at the edges from years of use. It was not a membership patch or a demand for loyalty, he explained, but a keepsake he had carried because Dutch had given it to him as a sign of friendship. Jim wanted Leo to have it because the boy had brought back a sound that belonged to two men both of them loved.
"I don't know if I should take that," Leo said, looking at his mother.
Nora examined the medallion, then Jim's face. "I don't want my son to think a gift means he owes anybody anything," she said. "And I don't want him growing up believing he needs to be frightening to be respected."
Jim lowered his hand. "Neither do I," he answered. "I want him to know people remember who helped them. That's all. If you'd rather keep it in a drawer until he's older, I'd understand."
Nora studied him for another moment. She had been nervous when she first heard the name of Jim Mercer's club, and the crowded workshop still made her uneasy. But she had also watched this man apologize to her son, tell the truth about his own fear, and take responsibility for the way he had treated Rusty. "He can keep it as a memory of his father and Dutch," she said. "Nothing more is expected."
Leo accepted the medallion. It felt heavier than he imagined, and he held it carefully rather than putting it on at once. Jim smiled, relieved by the permission more than he would have admitted. "If your family ever needs honest help, you can call me," he said. "Not because you owe me. Because Arty helped people all his life, and I should have remembered to return some of that kindness sooner."