She began gathering her coat.
He swore quietly.
Adeline paused.
Coulter stared at the floor.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“Is that a request?”
“Yes.”
“Am I getting paid?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
His head came up.
Adeline folded her arms.
“I’m unemployed, Coulter.”
“Not independently wealthy.”
“If I spend eight hours saving your business, I can’t spend those eight hours finding work.”
He looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“How much?”
“Whatever the help-wanted sign intended to pay.”
“That sign was for a mechanic.”
“Then take it down.”
He glanced toward the window.
“Fifteen an hour.”
“Seventeen.”
“I can’t.”
“Sixteen.”
“Fine.”
“Backdated to today.”
“You started without permission.”
“You let me continue.”
Coulter sighed.
“Fine.”
Adeline extended her hand.
He stared at it.
Then shook.
“Temporary.”
“Of course.”
Neither believed that even then.
Within two weeks, Adeline changed the sound of Briggs Auto Repair.
The first difference was the telephone.
It began ringing.
She called customers who had not returned in months.
Not with sales pitches.
With reminders.
“Mr. Halvorsen, your truck was due for front brakes in August. Coulter wrote it in the service notes, but nobody followed up.”
“Mrs. Avery, we still have the part number for your Subaru’s wheel bearing. If you’re still hearing the noise, we can inspect it before winter.”
Some customers sounded surprised that anyone remembered them.
Others admitted they had assumed Briggs was closing.
Adeline hated hearing that.
She created an appointment calendar.
A real one.
She posted labor rates clearly.
She created written estimates.
She called suppliers.
When one parts distributor refused to lower prices, she requested competing quotes.
The distributor called back the next morning.
Coulter listened from beneath a Ford F-250 while Adeline negotiated a seven-percent reduction.
When she hung up, he slid out.
“How’d you do that?”
“I asked.”
“I’ve asked.”
“No.”
“You complained.”
“That’s different.”
Coulter stared.
“You enjoy this, don’t you?”
“More than I should.”
The bank situation remained worse.
Briggs Auto owed Bitter Creek Community Bank $184,000 on a restructuring loan secured against the garage property and Coulter’s home.
Three payments had been late.
One appeared missing.
The formal notice gave them thirty days to cure the account before the bank considered additional action.
Coulter kept the letter folded in his shirt pocket for a week before showing Adeline.
She read it twice.
“You paid September?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Check.”
“Cleared?”
“I think.”
“Thinking is how you got here.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They found the cleared check.
Correct amount.
Correct date.
But the payment had been applied to an older equipment note already satisfied the previous year.
Bank error.
Not Coulter’s.
That bought breathing room.
But not enough.
“You still have a cash-flow problem,” Adeline said.
“I know.”
“No.”
“You have a timing problem.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You have enough work to survive.”
“You don’t collect quickly enough to pay bills when due.”
“That’s solvable.”
Coulter looked skeptical.
“Everything’s solvable to you.”
“No.”
“Just more things than you think.”
That evening, Coulter paid her first week’s wages.
Adeline looked at the envelope.
“You know direct deposit exists.”
“I also know this works.”
She opened it.
The amount was correct.
“Thank you.”