Noah stared at him.
“My grandfather never once mentioned you.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Ray met his eyes.
Noah had expected resentment.
Maybe anger.
What he saw instead was guilt.
“You need to ask your mother.”
Lena Briggs dropped a ceramic plate onto the kitchen counter when Noah showed her the check.
The plate did not shatter.
It looked as though it should have.
Five thousand dollars lay on the kitchen table beneath the weak yellow light.
Lena stared at the signature.
RAYMOND CALDER.
Her expression changed so sharply that Noah immediately regretted showing her.
“Where did this come from?”
“I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
“There was a motorcycle nobody could repair.”
“At Calder Motorworks?”
“Yes.”
“You went there?”
“I didn’t know that mattered.”
“You had no business being there.”
“I went to the parts place across the street for a regulator for Mr.
Wilkins’s generator.”
Lena pushed the check toward him.
“Give it back.”
Noah stared at her.
“What?”
“Return it.”
“Mom, this is five thousand dollars.”
“I can see that.”
“We’re behind on rent.”
“I know.”
“The car transmission—”
“I know.”
“You’ve been taking double shifts.”
“Noah.”
“And this could actually help us.”
“I said take it back.”
He rarely heard that voice from her.
Noah slowly sat down.
“Why?”
Lena turned toward the sink.
The house had belonged to Elias Briggs before his death.
Every doorway seemed designed around his broad frame.
Old repair certificates still hung on the hallway walls because Lena had never been ready to remove them.
Noah glanced toward one.
Elias Briggs.
Master Technician.
Ray’s reaction returned to him.
“You knew Ray Calder too.”
Lena gripped the edge of the counter.
“That part of our lives is finished.”
“Our lives?”
She turned around.
“Your grandfather worked with him years ago.”
“Ray said that.”
“Then he told you enough.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Noah.”
“Grandpa never told me anything about Calder Motorworks.”
“That was his decision.”
“Why?”
Lena did not answer.
Noah stood again.
“Did Ray do something to Grandpa?”
Her eyes filled with tears before she could hide them.
That frightened Noah more than anger would have.
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
She looked at Elias’s old toolbox sitting beside the refrigerator.
His toolbox.
For most of Noah’s childhood, Elias had carried it everywhere.
When Noah was nine, Elias taught him to gap a spark plug using tools from that box.
At eleven, Noah learned how to rebuild a carburetor.
At thirteen, he repaired his first motorcycle engine.
Elias always said the same thing before opening anything complicated.
“Listen first. Wrenches come second.”
Lena forced herself to look away from the red box.
“Your grandfather loved machines too much.”
Noah almost laughed.
“That explains nothing.”
“No.”
She rubbed her hands against a dish towel even though they were already dry.
“It doesn’t.”
Noah waited.
At last Lena spoke.
“Calder Motorworks used to be Calder and Briggs.”
Noah went still.
“What?”
“Ray and your grandfather started the company together.”
“Grandpa owned part of that shop?”
“In the beginning.”
“Why did he leave?”
Lena closed her eyes.
“Because somebody died.”
Noah felt the room turn cold.
“Who?”
She looked directly at her son.
“Your father.”
Noah had very few memories of Daniel.
There were photographs.
A young man with dark hair.
A crooked grin.
Strong, grease-marked hands.
One picture showed Daniel holding infant Noah against his chest while pretending to be terrified.
Lena kept that photograph in her bedroom.
Noah had always known his father died in a motorcycle accident not long after he was born.
He had never known where that motorcycle came from.
Or who had built it.
“He worked for Calder Motorworks?”
Noah asked.
Lena nodded.
“He tested prototype motorcycles.”
“And Grandpa?”
“He designed them.”
Noah sat absolutely still.
“And Ray?”
“He owned the other half.”
“What happened?”
Lena stared down at her hands.
“Your father was riding one of the prototypes during a road test.
A storm came through.
He lost control.”
Noah swallowed.
“What did Ray have to do with it?”
“He approved the test.”
Bitterness filled those four words.
“After Daniel died, your grandfather walked away from the company.
He never built another complete motorcycle.”
Noah thought about the small workshop behind their home where Elias had repaired generators, lawn equipment, chainsaws, scooters, and occasionally motorcycle engines.
Never an entire bike.
Noah had always assumed the small business simply never expanded.
Now he understood.
“Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“You were little.”
“I’m sixteen now.”
“You’re still my son.”
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“What does Ray’s black bike have to do with all this?”
Lena looked confused.
“What black bike?”