“I haven’t argued,” Frank said.
“No, you’ve just questioned everything.”
“Yes.”
Trent’s smile disappeared. “Some customers make the process harder than it has to be.”
Emily stiffened.
Frank remained calm.
“Then perhaps the process should survive a few questions.”
There was a pause.
A receptionist at the front desk looked up.
One of the other salespeople pretended not to listen.
Trent stared at Frank for several seconds and then stood.
“I’ll get my manager.”
“Please do.”
He walked away.
Emily released a breath. “Are we still buying this car?”
“If the car is right and the deal is honest.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“There are thousands of blue cars in America.”
That made her laugh.
Frank reached for the bottle of water Marcus had given him outside. It was warm now, but he took a drink anyway.
“Can I ask you something?” Emily said.
“Always.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“You know what.”
Frank looked at his granddaughter.
She lowered her voice. “That you’re involved with the company.”
“Would that make his behavior before he knew any better?”
“No.”
“Would it make the car safer?”
“No.”
“Would it make his numbers honest?”
“No.”
“Then we don’t need it yet.”
Emily was quiet.
Frank could see she understood the logic, but not all of the feeling behind it.
“Your grandmother and I learned something a long time ago,” he said. “People change when they think you can affect their future. Sometimes they get kinder. Sometimes they get afraid. Sometimes they become whatever they imagine you want. If you lead with your position, you lose the chance to know who they were before it entered the room.”
Emily glanced toward Trent at the sales tower.
“And if they’re awful before?”
“Then you know.”
“Doesn’t that get exhausting?”
Frank smiled sadly. “Sometimes.”
His answer carried more history than Emily could know.
When Frank had first left the Army, he had walked into banks with business plans under his arm and been treated like a mechanic asking for a favor. Years later, after his company became successful, some of the same men greeted him at charity dinners with both hands extended. He had learned not to become bitter about it. Bitterness made poor decisions feel principled.
But he had also learned to remember.
Helen had helped him understand the difference.
Trent returned alone.
“My manager is tied up,” he said. “So here’s where we are. I can waive half the adjustment if we complete the credit application now.”
Frank looked at the paper.
“No.”
Trent blinked. “No to the application?”
“No to the adjustment.”