She laughed.
“But I also had the highest satisfaction score.”
“That impresses me.”
“I thought it might.”
Walter looked toward the parking lot visible through the conference-center windows.
Snow had begun to fall.
His old pickup was parked among newer vehicles.
Emma followed his gaze.
“You still refuse to trade that thing.”
“I’m emotionally invested.”
“It has rust.”
“Character.”
“It leaks oil.”
“Personality.”
“The heater barely works.”
“Tradition.”
Emma shook her head.
“You own a brand-new Imperial.”
“My daughter says the same thing.”
“Speaking of her, does she still want to kill you?”
“She drives the SUV every day.”
“So no.”
“She can multitask.”
Emma laughed.
Walter put on his coat.
As he walked toward the exit, a young employee from another branch stopped him.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
Walter waited.
The employee looked nervous.
“Do you regret firing Tyler?”
Walter thought about the question.
He could have answered quickly.
Instead, he took his time.
“I regret that it became necessary.”
The employee nodded.
Walter continued.
“People are not disposable. But neither are standards.”
He looked at the young man.
“If you manage people someday, remember that.”
“I will.”
Walter headed outside.
Snowflakes landed on his jacket.
His boots were clean this time.
The parking lot lights reflected across rows of vehicles.
Some cost twenty thousand dollars.
Some cost one hundred fifty thousand.
From a distance, in the falling snow, they all looked almost the same.
Walter reached his truck and opened the door.
Before climbing in, he looked back at the building.
The dealership had changed since the days of the trailer office.
Bigger walls.
More glass.
More employees.
More money.
But the business, at its core, was still simple.
A person walked through a door.
Someone decided how to treat them.
Everything else came after.
He started the engine.
It coughed once, then rumbled to life.
Walter smiled.
“Still got it.”
He pulled out of the lot and headed home.
Inside the showroom, another customer had just arrived.
He wore a stained sweatshirt and work boots.
He paused near the entrance, uncertain.
A salesperson immediately walked toward him.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Sterling Crown. What can I help you with?”
The man relaxed.
“I’m just looking.”
“No problem.”
The salesperson smiled.
“Take your time. I’m here if you need anything.”
And that, Walter would have said, was the whole point.