He crushed an empty drink can, missed the trash barrel, and picked it up instead of leaving it where it fell. Outside, the sun was setting behind low brown hills. Frank turned off the bay lights one by one. Before he locked up, he walked to the parts cabinet and took out an old combination wrench, polished from years of use. He placed it on the corner of his desk, then changed his mind and returned it to the drawer.
He was not ready to say what he wanted to do. But on Monday morning, when Leon came through the door, something was going to be different.
Leon arrived at seven on Monday morning, earlier than the first customer and almost an hour before the heat became unbearable. He had washed his hands and face at the trailer's small sink, but grease remained under his fingernails. The hundred-dollar bill was still hidden beneath his mattress. He had checked it on Saturday and again on Sunday, touching the folded corner as if to reassure himself that the strange Friday afternoon had actually happened.
His mother had asked why he was smiling at breakfast. It startled them both. Tammy had been halfway through a piece of toast, looking at an overdue power notice on the table, when she glanced up and noticed his expression.
Leon had told her a motorcycle started after he pointed out a bad wire. She had smiled for a brief, distracted moment and said, "Good for you, honey," before returning to the bill. Leon carried that small kindness with him anyway. He did not receive enough of it to afford throwing any away.
At the shop, Frank was already beneath a rusted Chevy pickup, fighting with an exhaust clamp. Leon took the broom from its usual place and began working near the benches. Dust gathered ahead of the bristles, mixed with washers, bits of wire insulation, and the occasional tiny bolt that might still be useful. Usually he would have looked only at the floor. That morning he found his attention drifting toward a transmission opened across the center workbench.
The gears were arranged in a shallow metal tray, each piece shining differently beneath the fluorescent lights. Leon could see that some teeth fitted neatly into others, but he could not understand how turning one part could change what another part did. He pushed the broom through the same patch of dust three times while trying to solve the puzzle in his head.
Frank slid out from under the Chevy and watched him. He could have told Leon to sweep faster. That was what he had done countless times before, snapping the first words that came to mind because he did not want to spend time considering better ones. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, stretched his aching back, and walked to the bench.
"Put the broom away for a minute."