She made a note and shook Lily's hand with great seriousness, which Lily accepted with equal seriousness, and we left.
Outside the sun was doing something tentative through the clouds. Lily walked beside me with her hands in her pockets, her breath visible in the cold air.
"You hungry?" I asked.
She gave it a moment of real thought. "A bit."
I looked up the street. There was a place on the corner I’d driven past twice in the last few days without really seeing. It had a red awning and a faded sign with a soft-serve cone on it that made no seasonal sense for a Colorado March.
"Ice cream?" I said.
Lily looked up at me, then at the frost still clinging to the shadows on the sidewalk. "It's cold."
"Yeah," I admitted. "It is."
She considered it for another second, then gave a small shrug. "Okay."
It was warm inside and smelled like sugar and floor wax. The place was nearly empty, just a woman behind the counter and a teenage boy in a corner booth hunched over his phone. Lily studied the tubs behind the glass with the same intense focus she brought to everything else, eventually pointing at a neon pink swirl without naming it. I ordered a vanilla, something close to plain, and we took a table by the window.
She worked through the cup methodically, using both hands. I worked through mine without tasting it, watching the street and not feeling the immediate urge to fill the silence. That felt like progress. Three days ago, I’d had no idea how to be in a room with her. I still didn’t, not really, but thenot-knowinghad finally stopped being so loud.
My phone buzzed on the laminate table.
I recognized the number from the messages I’d left two nights ago. I looked at Lily, but she was entirely occupied with a pink spoonful.
"I need to take this," I said. "Two minutes, okay?"
Lily didn't look up from her cup. I took that as a yes and stepped toward the glass door, the bell over the entrance jangling as I leaned against the frame.
"Hank Bellows," the voice said. "Bellows Auto. I’m returning a message from a Jack Henley."
"That's me," I said, keeping my voice low. "Thanks for calling back, Hank."
"Says here you've got experience. What kind?"
"Twelve years. Rigs mostly, for the last few. Before that, general mechanical and shop work. I was at Hector's here in Cedar Falls for three years before I headed out." I kept my tone steady. "I can get a resume over to you if it helps."
There was a pause. In the background, I heard the quick burst of an impact wrench and the wash of a classic rock station. "Rigs," Bellows said, the word sounding heavy in his mouth. "That’s a long way from a local garage."
"Did plenty of vehicle and heavy equipment work out there," I said. "And I’m a fast study."
Another pause, longer this time. I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the door and waited.
"You local?" Bellows asked.
"I am now."
"What’s that mean?"
"It means I’m not going anywhere," I said, and the words felt heavier than I’d expected. I took a breath, looking at the grey slush at the curb. "My sister passed away last week. I’ve got her daughter now. She starts school Monday—I can start Monday."
There was a long silence on the other end, just the ambient hum of the garage. Through the window, I watched Lily reach the bottom of her cup. She was done with the ice cream and was now carefully lining up her spoon and napkins on the table, her head tilted in that same intense concentration.
"Monday," Bellows said finally.
"Monday."
"Seven-thirty," he said. "Don’t be late. I’ll see how you do."