He laid the envelope on the desk and opened it. The money inside was neatly banded and accompanied by a note from his bank documenting the withdrawal. Frank did not fan the bills for effect. He simply placed them where a salesperson could count them if that was necessary to proceed with a purchase.
"There's a deposit," he said. "The balance will be paid by check. Shall we discuss the truck now?"
For an instant Chad looked surprised. Then his surprise turned into a fresh source of entertainment. "A check? Come on, Grandpa. That check would bounce higher than the ceiling."
"You can verify it with the bank before accepting it," Frank replied. "I wouldn't expect you to do otherwise."
"Where'd you get that cash?" Chad asked.
Frank's expression hardened by a degree. "From a bank. Every dollar is clean."
"I don't know where you stole that money, but it's no good here."
The words made Kayla flinch. They were not teasing anymore, if they ever had been. Chad had accused an elderly customer of theft in a public showroom without a single fact to support it. Dean heard the accusation and did nothing to stop it.
"That's a serious thing to say," Frank told Chad. "Are you certain you want to say it?"
"Security," Chad called across the floor. "Come here. I want this man removed."
The security officer was a former warehouse worker named Luis Medina, hired through a contractor that provided coverage for several nearby businesses. He had watched part of the exchange and disliked what he saw, but he was unsure how much discretion his job gave him. He approached without touching Frank, keeping his hands visible and his voice low.
"Sir, the manager's requesting you leave," Luis said apologetically.
"On what grounds?" Frank asked.
Luis looked toward Dean. Dean shrugged. "Disorderly conduct. Suspicious cash. Refusal to follow instructions."
Kayla stepped between Frank and the desk. "None of that is true. The money is right there. Nobody has called a bank, and he has done nothing but ask to buy a truck."
Dean turned toward her with a look that had nothing to do with customers anymore. "That's enough, Kayla. Pack your things. Today is your last day at Liberty Motors."
The showroom fell quiet. Even Chad stopped laughing long enough to watch what her face would do. Kayla felt the floor seem to shift beneath her, as though the words had changed the room's balance. Her mind went immediately to Lily, waiting after school, and to the small medicine bottle beside the kitchen sink.
"Dean, please," she said. "If I can't pay rent this month, my daughter and I could lose our apartment."
Dean's reply was almost bored. "You should have thought about your daughter before defending him. There's the door. Both of you."
Something in Frank's chest went still. He had been insulted, recorded, accused of theft, and ordered out of a building he owned, but none of it cut as deeply as watching a frightened mother beg a man for the wages that kept a roof over her child's head. He looked at Kayla, and for a moment the old dealership returned to him: Ellen carrying coffee to two mechanics working late, a young receptionist borrowing money for a doctor visit, and his own hands making out paychecks when the business could barely afford them.