He did not tell her about the hidden hundred-dollar bill. He was not yet ready. But for the first time since Friday, he imagined that maybe someday he would be able to show her the money without being afraid of what it would mean.
By ten that night, Frank had finished another customer's repair and returned to the Honda. He did not touch the work Leon had completed without noting it first. Instead, he checked the records, tested the parts that required professional judgment, and set aside the unsafe pieces. The little engine was an educational project, not a reason to abandon basic standards. Frank knew Jim had called it a gift, but gifts could become dangerous when adults allowed excitement to replace caution.
He found Leon's notebook beneath the workbench and read the last line on the open page. "If it doesn't move, ask why." Frank smiled to himself. He closed the notebook and set it somewhere clean. Then he looked toward the clock, feeling the weight of Friday approaching. For once, the weight did not make him angry.
Friday morning arrived before either of them was ready. Leon came through the door while the sky was still pale and the asphalt had not yet begun to shimmer. His bandaged hand had improved, though Frank insisted on checking it before they started. The child had slept only three hours, turning over in bed while excitement and fear chased one another through his head. He carried the notebook under one arm and the old Snap-on wrench in his pocket.
The Honda looked almost respectable from a distance. Its frame was still rusty, its seat still only a metal pan, and its worn tires were clearly unsuitable for riding. But the little engine was clean enough to show its contours, its components had been inspected and reassembled under Frank's supervision, and the worst of the dirt no longer hid every surface.
Frank had mounted the machine securely for a stationary test. The original tank was set aside because it could not safely hold fuel. Frank had salvaged a small plastic auxiliary tank from an old lawn mower and mounted it in a stable temporary test fixture beside the bike, checking the connections himself. The patched-together arrangement looked as strange as the Honda, but it let them test the engine without pretending the machine was ready to ride.
Leon circled the bike twice. "It looks different."
"You look different," Frank replied.
The boy stopped. "How?"
"Less like you're waiting for permission to stand where you're standing." Frank cleared his throat. "Don't let it go to your head. We still have to check whether that thing can run without making trouble."