He thought for a moment.
“Usually?”
He smiled faintly.
“It just feels like the scale finally sitting level again.”
He shook her hand.
Then, as if the conversation had never happened, he added:
“Keep an eye on the timing chain in that Shovelhead.”
Casey laughed.
“That's all you have to say?”
Walter climbed onto his motorcycle.
“For now.”
The engine roared.
He rode away.
Casey watched until the motorcycle disappeared around the corner.
She finally understood something.
Walter hadn't saved her.
He had opened a door.
She had to walk through it herself.
Marlo and Doyle
Six months after the gas station incident, Casey opened a small storefront two doors down from Garrison Auto.
The sign above the entrance was hand-painted.
MARLO AND DOYLE CUSTOM RESTORATION
Eleanor sat behind the counter most afternoons.
Her medical bills were paid.
Her blood sugar notebook was still on the kitchen counter.
The twenty-dollar bill had long since become a private joke between grandmother and granddaughter.
On the back wall of the shop hung a folded blue bandana.
It was framed in simple wood
Along the edge, Casey had stitched four words:
WE DON'T FORGET.
Walter hated the idea of the bandana being framed.
“Should be used,” he complained.
Casey smiled.
“It is.”
“How?”
“Every day I see it.”
Walter shook his head.
“Still counts.”
That spring, Casey took on her first apprentice.
His name was Tyler.
He had been caught twice stealing gas from cars at Garrison Auto.
Casey didn't lecture him.
She handed him a wrench.
“Know what this is?”
“A wrench?”
“It's a chance.”
He looked confused.
Casey pointed toward the garage.
“There are two ways to need help.”
Tyler waited.
“You can ask for it.”
She looked him directly in the eyes.
“Or you can steal from someone because you're too ashamed to ask.”
He lowered his head.
“I messed up.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to fire me?”
“No.”
She handed him a pair of gloves.
“I'm going to teach you how not to.”
Tyler looked at the gloves.
Then at Casey.
“Why?”