"And her job when she comes back?" Sandra asked.
Cole glanced through the office window toward the Harley, now surrounded by mechanics examining the work Emily had recorded. "I think we've been using the wrong job description for her," he said. "I've got to ask her what she wants before I decide anything."
The men spent the afternoon inspecting the Harley's repaired components and documenting their findings. Reese confirmed the visible wear and checked the replacement work against the motorcycle's specifications, then arranged an appropriate controlled test rather than pretending that a smooth idle settled every question. He returned at dusk carrying a printout and a reluctant smile. The machine was running correctly, and the fault that had plagued it for three weeks had been addressed.
Cole listened to the report, but he did not immediately celebrate. "She knew where to look," he said. "And we didn't even give her the chance to explain why."
Reese held the printout. "I told her to stay behind the counter. I remember it now. She asked me about the cam cover on day one."
"Then you're going to tell her that you remember."
Reese nodded. He had spent much of his career learning how to avoid looking foolish, and the effort had nearly made him incapable of recognizing when someone else's expertise could help. The knowledge hurt, but he suspected it was the kind of hurt from which something useful could grow.
Emily remained at home for the next several days while the specialists reviewed her knee and developed a treatment plan. Every morning she woke at her usual hour, made coffee, and felt the absence of the familiar rush to the shop. The quiet that had once seemed like rest now sounded threatening, as though the world could move on without her while she sat in an apartment too small to contain her worry.
Sandra called the first morning to confirm that her wages would continue during the immediate medical assessment and that the shop was reviewing longer-term options. Cole called that afternoon, but instead of demanding medical news he asked whether she wanted company. Emily almost said no. Then she pictured another evening alone with her knee propped on a pillow and decided that refusing a cup of coffee was not a form of independence worth defending.
Cole arrived with two containers of food from the diner. He stood awkwardly in her doorway, looking entirely out of place with his leather vest and the paper bag in his hand, and waited for her to invite him inside. Emily cleared the table and apologized for the narrow room. Cole sat down, looked around at the books and the clean lines of the small apartment, and told her there was nothing wrong with having a place that suited a person's needs.
"You always this polite?" she asked after they had eaten.
"Not what people usually say about me."
"I noticed."