NUTS, BOLTS, AND SERENDIPITY
Bristling with urgency and importance, Jeffries stormed into the shop with a work order. "Osborne!" he barked.
Bill didn't look up. "Yeah."
"Here's an address. Get on this right away. Franks needs his car this evening."
"Okay. I'm about finished here." Bill straightened up and looked at Jeffries. "Told Rex Storm he could pick this up at 4:00. I need to give it a test drive, then I'll go."
Jeffries slapped the work order on the Legacy's fender. "Now," he said. "Leave that job. Get on this one pronto. I told Franks we'd do our best to have his car ready for him this evening. I expect you to do your best, Osborne."
Twenty-two years Bill had worked at Beech's Motors. He could tell by the sound of a car what it needed. Folks knew about Bill's work and asked for him. Until Jeffries came, Bill liked his job, but now. . . . He clenched his jaws and tightened a couple of bolts. Easy, Bill. Don't take your feelings out on Rex Storm's car. Carefully, carefully, he eased the Legacy's hood down. As he walked to the sink, he saw Jeffries glaring at him.
Bill glanced at the clock above the receiving desk. 2:38. Maybe if he was quick. . . . He snatched the keys, hurried to the wrecker, and spun out of the parking lot. Damned brown-nose, toadying up to the big guy in town. Storm gives us more trade than Franks ever did, but his social position doesn't rank high enough for that guy. And what's he doing, taking work orders? He doesn't know what we have scheduled. Lord all mighty. It's a tough go around here since O. C. retired.
Bill put the wrecker in high, and headed for Lost Bridge Road. He knew a short cut to Mackinaw View Subdivision, where Franks lived.
The boy stood beside the old river road, blood streaking his face. When he saw the wrecker, he stepped to the middle of the road and waved Bill down. A Range Rover lay at the bottom of an embankment, a side door caved, cracks webbing the windshield.
Dadblame it. Jeffries'll raise holy hell if I take time stop. But that boy looks like he needs attention. Well, what Jeffries doesn't know won't hurt him.
Leaving the wrecker running, Bill jumped out. "You hurting, kid? You look as banged up as your vehicle. You call the police?"
The boy thrust up his palms. "No, no. No police. Don't want anyone else to know. Gotta get this fixed before Mr. Allgood gets back from Europe." He hunched against the wrecker and swiped his face, smearing blood across his cheek. "Any idea what it'll cost? Allgood's paying me, so I have a little money."
"Can't say until I see what it needs, but it's gonna cost more than a little. I can tell that just by the looks of it. It'll need to go to a bodywork shop too if you want that caved door fixed."
The kid slumped down on the embankment and put his head in his hands. Bill gripped his shoulder. "That knot on your head is big as a baseball. You may have a concussion. We'd better call someone."
The boy struggled up. "No, no. I'm fine. Don't call anyone. Just get the Rover out before anyone comes along. Here, I'll help." He weaved a little and slapped his hand on the wrecker fender to steady himself.
Bill didn't argue. He needed to work fast. He backed the wrecker around. The boy helped with the tow chain while Bill secured the hook to the Rover. Once that was done, it took only a few minutes to haul the Rover up to the road.
"You'd better go over to the clinic and have someone look at that head of yours. I'll give you a lift to town. Hop in."
>From the corner of his eye, Bill glimpsed the kid sitting mute with eyes closed, head back, hand over forehead. He wondered why the boy was out on this isolated road-seldom used now that a new bridge crossed the river two miles down. Nothing I need to know, though. It's his business.
Bill glanced at the dash clock. 3:10. Holy cats.
"My name's Alex," the boy said when Bill asked. A sheepish grin cracked his face. "But most of the gang call me A. G. for Alex the Great." He rolled his head against the seat. "Fine Alex the Great I am-going off the road like that. Can't believe I did it. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
"Happens to the best of drivers, Alex. That road isn't maintained any more. Could be the shoulder was soft and gave way."
"Naw, it was a rabbit. Hopped right out in front of me. I tried to miss it. Lucky you came along."
Talking was an effort for the kid, Bill could see, but he wanted to keep him awake. Eyes closed, Alex answered Bill's questions with tired, shadowy words. Alex lived on Washington Street, Bill learned, down by the river and would be a senior at Greeley High when school started in September.
Darned tough for the kid, Bill thought as he slowed for a stoplight. If he lives down there, he'll never be able to pay for this job. Greeley is one of the roughest schools in town.
"How long is Mr. Allgood going to be gone?"
"The whole summer. He's over exploring archeological sites around the Mediterranean. Then he's heading north to take in Stonehenge and I don't know what all else.
"How'd you ever get hooked up with someone who can afford to spend a whole summer in Europe? It'd take me a couple a' centuries to save up enough to do that."
"My coach thinks I have a good chance for an athletic scholarship, but he knows I need more money if I go to college. He heard Mr. Allgood needed a caretaker for the summer and introduced me to him."
Alex groaned and his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "I'm supposed to be looking after his place, weeding, mowing, planting-whatever needs done. He gave me the keys to his Rover so I could haul in shrubs, gas for the mower, and stuff. Now look at it."
Bill checked the clock again. 3:18. Keeping an eye on the Range Rover, he accelerated.
Bill hauled the Rover to the back of the lot away from the front windows. Jeffries's Lexus sat in its parking space--shiny, waxed, and haughty. Rats. He's here. He'll eat me alive if he sees me.
"Look, A.G., I gotta rush. Come by tomorrow and I can give you an estimate on this. You get that knot looked at now."
Alex dipped his head and rubbed scraped fingers over the knot blooming there. "Yeah, well thanks, Bill." His shoulders sagged as he trudged off down 3rd Street.
No clinics down that way, Bill thought as he headed for the shop. Kid probably can't afford a doctor bill.
A careful mechanic, Bill always test-drove his jobs. No way I have time now to test-drive that Legacy by 4:00. He peeked through the service door, saw the coast was clear, and slipped up to Howard.
"Say, Howie, could you give that Legacy a test-drive? It sounds good, but to make sure it's humming, I'd like it road tested. I meant to have it ready for Storm by 4:00, but Jeffries wants me on a rush job. I don't have time to do it before then."
Howard grinned. "Yeah, I heard. That guy in there doesn't get on me the way he does you. Darned if I know why. I'll give it a spin right now and to hell with Jeffries if he wonders where I am."
At Franks Manor, Bill ran a paw through his thinning salt and pepper hair, looked over the sculpted landscaping, and raised his eyebrows. It's a far cry from my back yard, with trees and shrubs planted just the way nature wants them. Bet the old boy doesn't mow it himself.
Bill walked up wide stone steps and punched the doorbell. Mellow chiming reached his ears. A wave of cigar smoke hit Bill in the face when Franks himself answered the doorbell. "Yes, yes. Come on around to the garage and I'll show you the problem."
Franks led Bill to a Porsche Carrera GT-red. Bill whistled. A sports car. The sticker price on this would buy a whole fleet of Imprezas. He looked at Franks' flaccid jowls and considerable paunch. Boy, this guy must be a goer. Wonder who he tools around with in this.
Bill draped a seat protector over the plush leather seat and slipped behind the wheel. His chest expanded. A sense of power surged through him as he imagined driving this car full bore down the expressway. Man, I wouldn't mind test-driving this baby. Make it worth the rush-job.
Bill turned the key and heard a click. Not even a cough from the engine. No dash lights. Clock stopped. He turned the overhead light switch. Nothing. He checked under the hood. Battery connections secure. Huh. Probably a dead battery, but it could be something else.
"I think it's your battery, but I'd like to check over the electrical system. See if the starter connections, wiring, and fuses are okay. You can have me haul it in and check it over with the computer, or I can give you a jump now and see if she starts. Your choice."
Franks took the cigar from his mouth and tapped ash on the garage floor. "Better take it and check it over. I'm heading to Bloomington tonight and I want it running like a top. If you get it back here before 7:00, I'll pay you double."
Bill grinned when he saw Howie, Lyle, and Ed staring at the Porsche as he hauled it into the shop. They didn't often get cars in like this. His stomach tightened and his grin dissolved when he spotted Jeffries standing at the showroom door, hands on hips, stretching his neck around to look at the shop clock, then pointedly consulting his wristwatch. Bill glanced at the clock. 4:40. Jeffries couldn't gripe about that.
By 5:15, Bill had cleaned the battery cables and installed a new battery in the Porsche. With a new battery, the Porsche sprang to life. Bill shut her down to check the electrical system, trying to figure out why the battery went dead. This is an '05. Battery can't be too old.
It didn't take much detective work to find the probable cause of the dead battery. Bill saw right away that the passenger door wasn't tightly closed. When he opened the door, he found a fancy flowered sash hung up on the seat belt and caught in the door. It was enough to keep the door from latching.
Looks like the overhead light was on and Franks didn't notice it in his lighted garage. Must have been on for a while. Franks probably uses that Mercedes I saw in his garage for business and saves this sweetheart for who knows what.
Bill fingered the sash. Pretty fancy. Wonder if someone has been looking for it. He looked at the label on it. Ralph Lauren. Didn't mean a thing to Bill. He knew Carhartt and Levi and Fruit of the Loom. That was about it. Millie bought all his shirts and she was with him when he was fitted for his good suit. She had an eye, that gal. When he duded up in clothes she bought him, he looked sharp enough to rub elbows with those country club elite. Bill snorted at the thought. The country club wasn't anything he was interested in joining-not even if his pockets were deeper.
Howie was getting ready to leave when Bill picked up the phone. Bill held up his hand, signaling Howie to wait. He punched in Franks' number and drummed his fingers on the desk waiting for Franks to take the call. Through the shop window, he glimpsed the Range Rover with its bashed door ajar, almost hidden in the far corner of the lot. He sighed. He had hoped to take a look at it before he went home.
"Franks here," came a firm, commanding voice. "That you, Bill?"
"Yeah. Your Porsche is ready. Can you get a ride to pick it up, or do you want it delivered?"
Bill smiled when he hung up. He wants it delivered. Now to drive this baby.
"Hey, Howie, how about making a little overtime and following me in the service car? Franks wants me to deliver his Porsche and I'll need a lift back to the garage."
Even though he'd shed his uniform and scrubbed his hands, Bill used a seat protector. Once behind the wheel, he handled the Porsche as he would a crown jewel, but when he hit open road, he let her rip. He skipped Lost Bridge Road and headed for the expressway. Exhilarating in the Porsche's power, he bombed up an open lane until rush hour traffic brought him to his senses. He needed to slow anyway, to let Howie catch him. They arrived at Franks Manor by 6:20. Plenty of time for Franks to make his Bloomington appointment.
Franks took the cigar from his mouth and shook Bill's hand. "I appreciate your getting this to me so quickly. Anything wrong besides the battery?"
"Nope. She's running like a top just like you wanted. Great car."
Looking pleased, Franks ran his hand over the fender. "Yeah, I like it."
Bill pulled out the sash and handed it to Franks. "Found this caught in the passenger door. Think that's why your battery went dead. Kept the overhead light on."
Color crept up Franks' neck. He coughed, slapped his cigar back in his mouth, and squinted at it. "So. So." He cleared his throat. "Well that's good. That's good, Bill. Thanks. She'll be glad to get this back."
Bill refused Franks' payment offer. "We'll bill you. Enjoy your drive to Bloomington." He removed the seat protector from the Porsche, jumped in the service car, and gave Franks a grin and a wave as Howie headed down the shrub-lined drive.
The next morning Bill leafed through the work orders. As foreman, he could assign any of them to the other mechanics, but three had asked for him specifically. He took a sip of coffee from a Styrofoam cup and considered. I'll work up an estimate on the Range Rover first thing, then get on these. Want to have that estimate ready when the kid gets here.
Alex arrived at Beech's Motors straight from Allgood's where he'd put in five hours of planting, mowing, and watering. He glanced at the clock. 4:20. Not too late. He looked around. A sharp-featured guy wearing a white shirt and red tie thrust a crane-like neck forward, flashing car hype at a middle-aged man. A few other people wandered around looking at cars. A salesman bustled toward one of them.
Alex headed for the reception desk where a florid blonde was staring at a computer. "Where can I find Bill?" he said. "He's one of the mechanics here."
The sharp-featured guy wearing the red tie jerked around when he heard Bill's name. He stared at Alex's dirty jeans and tee shirt, his grimy sneakers, the purpling lump under his brown forelock, and a shiner worthy of a back-lot brawler. His eyes narrowed and his jaw knotted. Alex saw him veer back to the customer, who was peering inside a gleaming Tribeca.
"I'll get a salesman to help you. He'll be right with you," crane-neck threw back as he stalked off.
Man, thought Alex. That guy looks like he could chew nails. Wonder if he's always like that.
Bill crawled out from under a Forester when Marlene called for him. "Someone at the desk for you, Bill."
Bill poked his head in the show room and signaled to Alex. "Okay, Alex, let's take a look at what needs to be done. How's that head feeling today?"
With a resigned smile, Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Aw, okay, I guess. The new colors kinda add to my image, don't ya think?"
Bill grinned, grabbed his clipboard, and led Alex to the Range Rover. "Maybe you'd better sit down for this, A.G. Here's the damage." He ran his finger over the estimate. "You need a new exhaust system, which-brace yourself-will cost you in parts $750 for catalytic converter, rear and front mufflers, and exhaust manifold plus $60 an hour in-shop time. The oil pan was dinged and leaking. That'll be $90 plus labor. A new headlight will run you $195. It needs realigning too and we should check the balance on the wheels. That's all the work we can do here. I'm knocking off the tow charge. I was out on that road anyway. The work here is going to run you around thirteen hundred.
"The rest of it-and this will be the most expensive part-needs to be done at a body shop. Jake's Auto Body over at 3rd and Jefferson does good work and is about as reasonable as any body shop in town. I can haul it over there for you or when we get the rest of the work done here and you can drive it over yourself. That oughta help your image."
Alex swallowed hard and leaned his head against the Rover's roof. "Man, I don't know how I'm gonna pay for all this."
"Well, Alex, I bet Allgood has insurance on the Rover, but I don't know if it covers a teenage boy driving it. Might be something to investigate."
"No, no. I gotta pay for this myself. Allgood's a great boss. I don't want his insurance rates going up because of me. He's got the money, but this is my responsibility. I don't even want him to know about it. You know of any jobs around? Maybe if I work two or three jobs before school starts, I can get this paid for."
Bill knew they needed a good gofer round the shop. Rubbing his chin, he considered. Sure wish O. C. was still here. I'd like to hire the kid, but I don't know how Jeffries will take it.
"Tell you what, Alex. I'll see if I can get you on here. See if you can handle some of the muscle jobs. That's not a promise, but I'll do my best."
The words were barely out of Bill's mouth when he spotted Jeffries scowling and marching toward them with a war-like stride, a clipboard in one hand. "Osborne, what do you think you're doing visiting during shop hours? You know what I said about socializing on shop time. We want to give our customers prompt service, but we sure can't give it with you flapping your gums with some kid. Who is this anyway? He your son?"
Then Jeffries noticed the Range Rover. "What's that doing here?" he snapped. "We don't work on Rovers. I told you: Under my management, we confine our work to cars the agency sells." Jeffries jerked a pen out of his shirt pocket and started scribbling notes on his clipboard.
Bill felt his neck burning. He hated being talked down to, especially in front of Alex. What a switch from the respect he received from O. C. He shoved his hands in his uniform pockets, looked Jeffries in the eye, and said, "I noticed you didn't mind sending me out for a Porsche. We don't carry them here, either. And Alex needed a tow. He wants to get this fixed for Steve Allgood, who's spending the summer exploring Europe."
That carried weight with Jeffries. If Allgood could afford to spend a couple of months in Europe, Jeffries wanted to cultivate him. "All right. But I want this out of here by tomorrow night to make room for our agency customers. And you check with me before you take on any more jobs. That's any more, Osborne."
"Right. Got it," Bill said. "Speaking of getting this out fast, I'd like to hire Alex here as a gofer. We need the extra help. Another set of hands sure would speed up things. How about it?"
Jeffries' voice rose another decibel. "I'll do the hiring around here. If I see the need for an extra hand, I'll interview and hire him myself. Now get back to work, Osborne."
Alex slumped against the Rover as Jeffries stalked off. "Well, there goes the idea of working here. Geez, Bill, how do you put up with that guy? I wanted to smack him in his arrogant kisser."
Bill shook his head. "I'll tell you, Alex, having a boss you like and respect sure makes life happier. It's a different ballgame around here since Beech retired."
At the shop the next day, Bill looked up when Howie came in ten minutes before starting time. Good man, Howie. He noticed Howie wasn't wearing his usual smile and wondered why.
Howie grabbed a cup of coffee from the urn in the shop office, paused to look at the computer screen, then headed for the lift where Bill was working on the Range Rover. "Damn, Bill," he said. "I'm sorry as hell. It's a bum deal for you. Nobody's gonna like this."
Bill stared at him. "What're you talking about, Howie? What's a bum deal?"
"You mean Jeffries didn't tell you? Better take a look at your shop e-mail, unless you'd rather not ruin your day."
The e-mail was addressed to all the employees at Beech's. Bill took a swallow of coffee as he read, then choked and slammed his cup down, nearly spilling it.
Date: June 11, 2006
To: All Beech Motor employees
From: Leo Jeffries
Subjects: Shop practices; shop foreman
It has come to my attention that some shop employees are scheduling shop jobs without my approval. I want to make it clear that all work done here is to be scheduled through the receptionist's office and approved by me.
I have replaced Bill Osborne as shop foreman. Howie Fugate will act as foreman beginning tomorrow, June 12. I trust Mr. Fugate will set a better example in following shop guidelines.
Bill smashed his fist on the desk so hard his cup tipped and dumped his coffee. He sopped up the coffee, crumpled the Styrofoam cup, and hurled it in the wastebasket.
Howie looked up when Bill stormed toward him. "When did Jeffries talk to you?"
"He called me in yesterday evening right at quitting time. I didn't know what to say. Told him I thought you were damned good at your job. He darned near puked when I said it. Boy, does he have it in for you. Reckon he's jealous?"
"I don't know why he has a burr up that hard rock behind of his, but boy, I've about had it with him."
Bill slapped Howie on the back. "Well, Howie, congratulations on your promotion, but you'd better watch your step around that guy. He's a control freak. I want you to know I don't hold this against you. Now I'd better get to work before Jeffries sees us talking and decides to fire me."
Alex came that evening for the Range Rover. "I have your address. We'll bill you. And Alex, I have some work I need done at my place. If you want to come over Saturday, I can put you to work. I'll pay you $15 an hour."
Alex socked one hand with the other. "Hot darn, Bill. Thanks. That'll help. Give me directions and when you want me to come. I'll be there. And ya know what, Bill? I think I have an evening job at Bert's Burgers. They don't want me up front because of this shiner, but they need someone to wash dishes. Only $7.50 an hour, but it's five hours, five days a week, and they'll feed me. After they take out all that government stuff, I'll still net $34 or $35 a night. That's $170 or more a week. I'm gonna get this paid for before Allgood gets back. Just see if I don't."
Alex waved at Bill as he eased the Rover out of the shop. He grinned, poked his head out of the window, and said, "Kinda looks like I've been in the demolition derby, doesn't it, Bill? I oughta get a few fist pumps driving this over to the body shop."
Saturday, Bill saw Jerry Hill's rusted out Datsun stop at his rural mailbox a mile-and-a-half outside town. Alex hopped out, swung his knapsack over his back, and waved thanks to Jerry. Bill left his cultivating and went to meet Alex. "Hey, Alex, glad to see you got a ride. That's a bit of a hike from Washington Street."
"Yeah, I was lucky. Don't know if that fellow stopped because of my thumb or my shiner, but he said he was going right past here. Saved me some energy."
Alex's shiner was giving its last hurrah. Bill could see a brown eye twinkling through the swelling and Alex's face colors were lightening from violet to yellow. "Another couple of days and you won't be able to rely on the shiner to get you rides. Will the body shop release the Rover to you before you pay them?"
"Darn it, Bill, I didn't even think about that. Maybe if I can manage part of the payment they will."
"We'll see how things go here, A. G. Depending on your reliability, maybe I can vouch for you. Jake knows me. Now let me show you what I need done today."
Around the perimeter of the yard, the woods had taken over. "I'd like to get some of this brush cleared away," Bill said. "Millie has been at me to do it for a long time. She's a bit prickly with me because I keep finding other things to do on weekends.
"And see these trees? I want the lower limbs removed from this one and this one and this one. . ." Bill pointed to a half dozen willow and maples around the yard as he talked. "We need to get more sunlight around here. Millie says she needs sunlight to cheer her up. She's been down a lot this past year. Think she's fighting the mid-life blues.
"Now this stuff is poison ivy. If you're allergic to it, don't get any of the oils on you. If you do, I'll show you where you can wash up. Wash the stuff off right away and when you get home, take a shower and wash your clothes. You don't need ivy blisters to dress up your gaudy head knots. After you finish brushing, we'll build a bonfire to get rid of the litter. Be sure to stay upwind when we're burning poison ivy. I've known people to break out just from standing in the smoke while it burned."
For lunch, Millie set apple salad on a blue-flowered tablecloth, then brought out ham and cheese sandwiches made with what Alex thought was homemade bread. She poured ice tea for them and after they finished the sandwiches, she set out oatmeal cookies. Alex stretched and patted his stomach. "Thanks, Millie. That hit the spot. It was worth the trip over here just for that meal."
Alex had finished a third of the brushing when Bill said, "Better wrap it up for the day, Alex. It's almost 5:30. I'll give you a lift home. You did a lot of hard work. Won't hurt you to sit awhile instead of walking all that way. You want me to pay you now for today or wait until you've finished this job and pay for all the days with one check?"
"Go ahead and wait," Alex said. Then he hesitated. "Oh. Maybe you should pay me now. If Jake finishes the Rover before next week, I'd like to have at least some money to give him."
Bill could smell river dankness when he let Alex off on Washington. Railroad cars sat on a siding separating a small, weathered house from the river. Through a rusted screen, a curtain flapped in the breeze and Bill noticed the porch sagged. But the yard was neat-no refrigerators or junk cars. Along the cracked sidewalk leading to the porch, he could see that someone had done some edging. Alex did it, I bet. That kid is a good worker.
"Barring a thunderstorm, I'll see you same time next Saturday, Alex. I have your phone number at the garage, but give it to me again, just in case. You acquitted yourself pretty well today, so if you need someone to vouch for you at Jake's, have him give me a call. You have my number or he can call me at work."
Jake called Bill at work, asking about Alex's ability to pay.
"Kid seems like a good risk," Bill said, "though I don't know him that well. He intends to pay off all the repair bills himself. Won't let Allgood's insurance take care of it. That impressed me. Shows he has a sense of responsibility.
"Tell you what, Jake. I'll vouch for him if you can work out a payment plan with him. He won't have the money to pay for it all at once and he has to pay us here, too. He's working three jobs right now. I think he'll make it. If he doesn't, there's always Allgood's insurance. But a bug in your ear about that: He doesn't want Allgood to know about the accident. Don't know that that's smart since it's Allgood's vehicle, but I, for one, will respect Alex's wishes and let him deal with any unforeseen complications."
Alex finished brushing in three weeks. The woods around Bill's place looked like a park. Bill stood admiring it, thinking a bench under that big oak tree would be nice. Bet Alex could make one if he had a book with directions. But first I want to have him lay a flagstone path to Millie's greenhouse.
"Have some more work for you, Alex, if that fits with your schedule."
"Heck yeah, Bill. I'll be here next Saturday. 9:00 a.m. as usual. And if the Range Rover is ready by then, I won't have to thumb."
The following Tuesday, Bill punched in at 7:54 and looked at work orders Howie had for him. All of them were special requests-old customers who'd asked for him. He quirked a lop-sided smile and attached the orders to his clipboard. Good guy, Howie, honoring these requests. As long as he's foreman, I can put up with Jeffries. If I stay out of Jeffries' way, maybe he'll stay out of mine. Don't want to waste energy and good humor hassling with that guy.
Bill was about ready to take his mid-morning break when Jeffries slammed into the shop. "Osborne," he roared, "See me in my office. Now."
Shoot to hell. I was in a good mood, too. Wonder what he has his guns out for this time.
Bill went to the shop sink, scrubbed his hands with Boraxo, and headed for Jeffries' office.
Through Jeffries' flung door, Bill saw Jeffries stomping back and forth, head jutting, hands jammed in impeccably creased pant's pockets. A scowl fierce as a Santa Ana wildfire contorted Jeffries' face. Was that smoke coming from his ears?
Bill squared his muscular body, firmed his jaw, and stepped inside the office. "Yeah. You wanted to see me?"
Jeffries strode to his desk, snatched up a check, and waved it at Bill. Almost choking, he said, "What's the meaning of this? Came in the mail today."
Bill looked at the check. It was made out to him for $400 and signed by Wilbur Franks. "Darned if I know. Wasn't there a note with it?"
"There was, Osborne. Said it was for service you gave on that Porsche of his. I looked at the invoice. The battery and tow charges didn't come to that much. What's going on?"
Bill raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and said nothing.
Livid blotches colored Jeffries' face. Veins bulged in his neck. His crane head shook. He slammed his fist on his desk. "What do you mean soliciting extra money to line your pockets? I checked. Franks paid that bill with his MasterCard. This check he sent specifically for you. As you damned well know, we don't allow tipping for service. This, Osborne, is insubordination."
Bill's heart thumped hard in his chest. Heat surged to his face. Searing words leapt and knocked to get out. Clenching his fists, Bill swallowed. "Look, Jeffries, I had nothing to do with that check. I told the man we'd bill him, which I'm sure Marlene did fair and square. You're way out of line accusing me of soliciting. I don't know what your problem is, but it sure would make things nicer around here if you'd get the hell off my back."
Jeffries threw the check down. His purpling face shot toward Bill. "That's it. That's it, Osborne," he bellowed. He jabbed the check. "I'm having Marlene mail this back to Franks. As for you, I sure will get off your back. You're fired. Clean your stuff out and leave. Now! This minute! I don't want to see you around here tomorrow or even this afternoon. I'll have Marlene mail you a check for the work you did this month, but not a penny more. No severance pay for you, Osborne."
Bill tried to contain his shaking when he re-entered the shop. His voice wavered. "You're gonna have to give these jobs to someone else, Howie. I'm done around this old place. Jeffries just fired me."
Howie's jaw dropped and the wrench in his hand clanked to the floor. "What!" he yelled. "What? He can't do that."
"Well, he did. Wants me out of here now, so goddamn it, I'm going. Hell of a note. Hell of a note. Man. I planned to retire here, too."
Bill stripped off his work uniform, hurled it in the hamper, then cleared out his things. All the other mechanics gathered around when Bill was ready to leave. Almost choking, Bill shook their hands, then, with a wave, headed for his Outback. What's Millie going to think? Fired. Never in God's name did I dream this would happen to me.
Millie started when the screen door slammed. She turned from her dusting and saw Bill standing in the living room doorway clenching and unclenching his fists. "Bill, what on earth are you doing coming home at this hour?"
"I got fired, Millie. Jeffries just fired me."
Millie's mouth flew open. "No! How could he?" She clapped a hand over her mouth. Face puckered, she swung her head back and forth and her eyes filled. "No," she said again. "How-how could he? Oh, Bill, and after all you've done for that place. What is wrong with that man?"
Bill dragged over to his easy chair, plopped down, and sighed. "Maybe if I'd tried to figure that one out earlier, I wouldn't be in this fix. No matter what, I couldn't please that guy-not that I went out of my way to do it. Seemed like he had it in for me from day one."
"I just don't understand it." Millie clenched her teeth and tears spilled. "I want to grab that man and shake the stuffings out of him, shake him 'til his head flies off his neck. You've always done good work, even before O. C. hired you. What could Jeffries possibly have against you?"
Bill sighed again. "Not sure, Millie. Could be because people came to me instead of him. But that was understandable. They'd been doing that for what?-How many years? O. C. made me foreman sixteen or seventeen years ago."
"And that wasn't the only reason, Bill. People came to you because they trusted you. They trusted your ability, they trusted your knowledge, they trusted your integrity, and-and-," tears leaking, Millie choked, "and they trusted your just plain decency."
She threw her arms around Bill's broad shoulders and kissed his lined cheek. "Oh, Bill, you're such a good man. This is so unfair." She sat on Bill's lap stroking his neck and cheeks and repeating, "You're such a good man, Bill, such a good man."
"Well, Millie, I did tell Jeffries to get the hell off my back. Maybe I should have held my tongue. I like to treat others with respect. I intended to be civil to him, but I'm a man and I-oh, hell, I don't know. I didn't want to be that guy's doormat. I was sick of his talking down to me. I wanted to stand up for my-my dignity, my manhood."
Millie rested her head on Bill's shoulder for a moment, then smoothed his stricken face and kissed him again. "What are we going to do, Bill? Can you get another job at your age?"
Bill leaned back, and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know, Millie. I just don't know. Fifty-three isn't that old, but most places do prefer to hire younger men."
While Bill made the rounds looking for work, Millie called O. C. Bill wouldn't want her taking his troubles to his old boss, but. . . . She ground her teeth as she dialed, she was so indignant. Maybe O. C. would have some influence.
O. C. was at the golf course when Millie called. "If he gets back before 4:00, have him call me," she told Helen, O. C.'s wife. "I'd like to talk with him about Bill, but I'd rather Bill didn't know I was doing it."
O. C. and Helen spent the winter in Arizona but they enjoyed their northern Illinois home and spent summers there. Both of them were in their late 70s. Gardening, golfing, and evening walks kept them healthy. O. C. stayed up on town affairs at the country club, so he already knew Jeffries had made Howie foreman. He firmed his lips when Helen gave him Millie's message. "Hmm. I'll call her before we eat. Find out what's going on."
When Millie told O. C. Jeffries had fired Bill, O. C. exploded. "This is terrible, terrible! Good God, Millie. I wondered if there was a problem when I heard Howie was the foreman there, but this-this is just awful. Bill's the best man I ever hired. He ran that place for me. I can't imagine. If I'd known, I never would have. . . . What's Bill going to do?"
"I don't know, O. C. He's out looking for another job now. He thinks his age will be a drawback."
"Can he swing setting up his own shop? I know of a place over on Madison that's for sale. It's already outfitted with a lot of the equipment he would need. I'll do anything I can to help him. If he's interested, why don't you have him give me a call?"
When Bill got home, he plopped down in his favorite chair. Sighing, he stretched his legs out on the ottoman. He felt wearier than he'd ever felt after a day of hard work. Millie came in from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. "How did it go today?" she asked, even though she could tell by Bill's sagging posture and drained face that things had not gone well.
"No openings anywhere I went. Said they'd call me if one came up. Same old song and dance. They prefer to take on younger guys and train them. I told them I was trained. They asked for the name of my last boss. Can you imagine what Jeffries would say about me? I gave them O. C.'s name and the names of all the guys in the shop as references. Don't know if they'll use them or not."
Millie went to Bill's chair and perched on the ottoman. "Bill, I have a confession to make. I called O. C. and told him what happened. He was outraged. Wants you to call him. He wants to talk with you about going into business for yourself."
"Huh. If only. Good gosh, Millie, even if we used all our retirement savings, we wouldn't have enough to set up a business without financing. But now that you've spilled the beans to O. C., to tell the truth, I'd like to talk with him about this. It'd ease my heart."
O. C. answered when Bill called. "Bill, man, how are you holding up? I can't think what was in Jeffries' head to fire an outstanding mechanic and business guy like you. How did the job hunt go?"
"No bites, O. C. No one had any openings and most of them said when they did hire, they preferred hiring a younger man."
"Listen, Bill, maybe that's just as well. You're so good with cars and customers. Have you thought of going into business yourself? I know Grabb has his garage up for sale."
"I'd love to go into business for myself, but there's the money thing. I'd have to borrow in addition to using our retirement IRA's. If I were a younger man, I'd do it, but at my age, I'm not so sure. Millie would be bearing the financial risk too. I have to think of her as well as myself."
Millie was loading the dishwasher when Bill said this. She dropped a plate in the dishwasher, marched over to where Bill was talking, and stood in front of him gesturing and mouthing, "Do it. Do it."
People thought of Grabb as O. C.'s competitor, but O. C. hadn't looked at it that way. He had as much business as his mechanics could handle and sometimes when their bookings had a long waiting list, he referred customers to Grabb's Garage. In their long automotive histories in the same city, Grabb and he had developed a friendly business relationship. O. C. felt Johnny Grabb would give him the straight scoop about his garage. He called him to feel him out and told him Bill Osborne might be interested in buying.
On Thursday, Bill went to take a look at Grabb's place. It was nowhere near as big as Beech's Motors, but Bill didn't want anything big. He checked the equipment Grabb had installed: lift; computer; equipment for checking emissions, alignment, headlight beams. Grabb, he saw, had kept up with automotive innovations. His heart surged as he looked at the layout. Man, oh, man. I'd love to have this shop. What I'd do with it.
Trying to look casual, Bill girded himself and said, "You have some fine equipment here, Johnny. I'm wondering if you're including it with your asking price. What are you selling for?"
"Appraisal prices: $475,000 all together. The property and equipment would have to come under separate bills of sale, and I would ask for a $60,000 down payment, but we can negotiate that. As you can see, this place is in a prime location. That's one reason for the high appraisal."
Bill's heart squeezed and his stomach plummeted. A frisson of dismay prickled his innards, erasing his hopes for the shop. He thought of their two lowly IRA accounts. They would cover the down payment, but not much more. And using their house as collateral for a loan. . . . Lord. Their place wasn't worth near $450,000. Bill shook his head.
"I like your setup here, Johnny, but I'm not a rich man. Coming up with a loan to pay for this would be a heck of a problem and a big risk. I'll toss it around with my wife, check into financing possibilities, and get back to you. You had anyone else look at it?"
"None of the big agencies. This place is too small for them. I've had a few nibbles, but doubt if they can swing the money."
"So that's the story, Millie. I'd love to own that place, but our IRAs are secure now," Bill said as he traced a flower on the tablecloth. "Getting financing would be tough. Then there's the risk. I'd jeopardize our retirement security. What if I didn't make it in the business? I don't know. Reckon I could get a job pumping gas--not that any service stations pump gas any more, but some of them still change oil and repair tires. That's better than no income. Hell. Damn Jeffries. I thought I was set 'til retirement. Now, at my age, I'm facing starting up fresh."
Millie turned the burner down under the stew she was making for supper and sat in a kitchen chair by Bill's side. She grabbed his hand and said, "Bill, look, hon, consider it an investment. We'll get our money back and more-and more-when you retire and sell. You'll build a thriving business there. I know you will. People asked for you at Beech's. They even called here for you on weekends. You'll be as busy as you want to be.
"And I can run the office end of it. I know bookkeeping." Millie's hazel eyes danced. "Just think of the overhead you will save with me there to handle the flood of appointments you'll bring in. What a team we'll be." She planted a laughing kiss on Bill's forehead.
Bill smiled, pulled Millie to his lap, and nuzzled her as renewed hope lightened his heart.
Alex showed up at 9:00 a.m. Saturday driving the gleaming Range Rover. He hopped out and grinned as Bill came up. "What do you think, Bill? Looks better than new, doesn't it? I buffed it up enough to make it ready for a show room."
"Looks like Jake did a good job on it, Alex, but I've had some bum news. Jeffries fired me and I'm going to have to curtail my spending. Don't know that it would be wise for me to put in that walkway to the greenhouse until I start getting income again. When that will be, I have no idea."
"Are you kidding me, Bill? That arrogant crane-head fired you? Man, oh, man. How can a guy like that be in charge of a big place like Beech's? Wish I had punched him in the face. Far as I'm concerned, you're better off. I wouldn't want to work for that guy. You got any leads for a job?"
Bill told Alex about his futile job hunt and the small garage on Madison that was for sale, then he got down to the business of the day. "I didn't call you because I knew you were counting on this job. For today, why don't you go ahead and stake and level for the flagstones. Maybe by next week I'll have a job, or even better, a garage of my own."
"Hey, Bill, I like working here. You don't have to pay me so much. I'm only getting $7.50 at Bert's Burgers. I'd be willing to work for free, for that matter, to pay off the towing fee you didn't charge me for."
"No, I can't let you do that. I'll pay you what I offered. We'll take this one week at a time and see how things develop.
Bill showed Alex a book on laying flagstone paths, then went to work himself, weeding the garden. It was nearing lunchtime when he heard the crunch of gravel in the drive and looked up. He couldn't believe it. A red Porsche Carrera GT had rolled up his drive and parked behind the Range Rover. A driver with a cigar clamped in his teeth hauled himself out, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and looked around.
What is that guy doing out in this neck of the woods? Bill dropped his hoe, dusted his hands on his Levis, and walked up to Franks. "Mr. Franks, howdy there. Welcome to the outskirts. You lost?"
"No, Bill. I'm looking for you. Had a bit of a job finding you. Went to Beech's and the gal in the office said you didn't work there anymore. What happened? I understand you'd worked there a long time. Did you take early retirement or get another job?"
"To tell the truth, neither. Jeffries let me go. I'd like to go into business for myself and in fact have a place in mind I'd like to buy, but getting financing is a problem. Went to the bank yesterday. They'll only loan me $80,000 using this place here as collateral, so I'm not sure what direction to take right now."
Bill wrinkled his forehead. "O. C. Beech, the boss I had for years, offered to help me with the financing, but I know Helen and he plan to travel-do some cruises-live it up in their retirement years. He's going to need his money himself. I'd rather not take him up on his offer. And interest on larger loans would kill me. I don't know, Mr. Franks. I may have to give up on going into business for myself and find a job as a workingman-ideally something in the automotive field. I'd rather build on what I already know than start in at something brand new and try to bend my mind around it."
Franks took another puff on his cigar. "So O. C. Beech was your boss, was he? I know the man. We belong to the same country club. Good fellow. Honest reputation."
Just then Alex came over. He'd seen the Porsche Carrera and wanted a closer look. He whistled and stooped to peek inside. "Now that is one dream of a car." He looked at Franks. "Gotta respect your taste in cars. Wow. Just look at that piece of metal. Bet you could almost go airborne in that sweetheart."
Franks grinned and cleared his throat. "You have it right, young man. I love this car."
Bill introduced Franks and Alex. Then he remembered Franks' big lawn. "Say, Franks, would you need someone to do yard work for you? Alex here is a darned good worker and needs the money. He's working for Steve Allgood, keeping his place up while Allgood is traveling around Europe. But he needs more work than that. If you could use someone, Alex might be interested." Bill looked at Alex, who was bobbing his head up and down.
Franks regarded Alex. "Well, Alex, I can see you have an eye for good cars. What hours are you working now?"
"I put in five hours three days a week over at Allgood's. Then I'm working at Bert's Burgers five hours a day five days a week in the evenings. About a month ago, I started working here on Saturdays for Bill, but since he lost his job, he's only keeping me today because he wants to honor his job offer. That right, Bill?"
Bill grinned and punched Alex in the arm.
"Tell you what, Alex," Franks said, "if Bill can spare you, I could use a handy man around my place. You say you're working at Allgood's three days a week? I could use you on the fourth and fifth weekday plus any weekend time you could give me. If you're a good worker, I'll keep you on for the rest of the summer. I'll pay you $20.00 and hour and if you do good work, I'll raise that to $30.00 an hour. But if Bill needs you, I don't want to pull you away from this job."
"Hot darn, Mr. Franks."
Alex looked at Bill who had a grin on his face. "Maybe, Bill, if you want to do that path, I could work both here and at Franks on Saturdays."
"Alex, I appreciate that, but as you've already figured out, I need to pinch pennies right now. Besides, you have to sleep sometime. You don't want to wear yourself down. You go ahead. This job will wait until I'm drawing income again."
"Good enough. I'll take your offer, Mr. Franks. Now tell me where you live and what time you want me to be there. I can work tomorrow if you want me on a Sunday."
"As a matter of fact, Alex, Sunday is a good day for me to orient you-tell you what I want done. Why don't you come over at 10:00 in the morning. Now let me get some paper and I'll draw directions for you."
Alex pocketed the map, he and Franks shook hands, and Alex went back to work on the path. He wanted to get that started for Bill.
Franks stowed his cigar in the Porsche and pulled out an envelope. Bill glimpsed the familiar Beech's Motors return address. Franks pulled a check from it. "They sent this back to me, Bill, but I want you to have it."
"Mr. Franks, you don't need to do that. That job was part of my workday. I've already been paid for it."
"I told you I would pay you double if you got my car to me by 7:00 and I mean to do it. Besides that, Bill, I liked your straightforward business-like approach and," Franks cleared his throat again, "you handled that sash business discretely. That sash belonged to a dress that cost over a thousand. Without the sash, the dress lost flair. She wouldn't wear it without the sash. So there you have it: Getting that sash back was like getting a dress worth more than a thou."
Franks grinned a half grin and rubbed his chin. "Go ahead and take it, Bill. I got my bonus when I returned the sash. Now you take yours."
Bill spent Monday and Tuesday looking for loans that didn't amount to downright usury. When he drove by Beech's Motors, he noticed a new sign was up. "Best Deal Motors," the sign said.
That'll be a relief to O. C., he thought. Don't think he wants his name associated with that place now. Bet anything Jeffries wanted h is name up there, but he doesn't own the place. At this thought, a ripple of amusement brought a smile to Bill's face. He didn't want to hold a grudge against Jeffries, but he wasn't ready to wish him well-not even close.
That evening, Bill came through the backdoor, sagged on a kitchen chair, and loosened his tie. "Millie, much as I'd love to buy Grabb's place, I think we're going to have to give up that idea. $80,000 is all I can get at a decent interest rate."
"So you won't consider O. C.'s offer of a loan. I know O. C. wants you to have that place. And O. C. wouldn't lose anything. It would be an investment for him too."
"You're right about that, Millie. But O. C. and Helen are pushing 80. How much time do they have to enjoy their retirement dreams? No, I won't tie up their money."
Despite his low spirits, Bill polished off Millie's raspberry cobbler with good appetite. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and stretched out to sip decaf and try to settle his mind enough to bring clarity to this confused work situation. He swallowed, put his mug down, and ran his hands over his face. What the devil was the best thing for him to do?
Millie was still clearing the table when the phone rang. She heard the authoritative voice on the phone, shrugged, raised her eyebrows, and handed the phone to Bill.
"Bill? Franks here. That kid you had working for you, Alex-good worker, by the way-he told me a bit about Jeffries and the bad time Jeffries gave you for working on Allgood's Range Rover. Made me decide to do some checking. I talked with O. C. Beech and the foreman there at-what are they calling it now?-at Best Deal Motors. Howie Fugate, I believe his name was. They both told me you were a superb mechanic and conscientious in your work. Learned you were foreman at Beech's for seventeen years and had quite a following. O. C. also told me you didn't want to take the loan he offered you so you could buy Grabb's place. I had my bank check your credit rating. It's good. No outstanding debts.
"Which brings me to why I'm calling. I have a proposition for you. I'd like to give you the financial backing to buy that place. I'd charge you 5% interest but if you sell the garage, I want first option to buy. It's a promising investment. The way this city is growing, I expect the property where your home is to increase in value so that is plenty of collateral for me. What do you say?"
Bill almost yelped. Grinning, he waved Millie over and squeezed her so hard she gasped. "Mr. Franks, that's a fantastic offer. You just took a load the size of the Peoria landfill off my back. When can we meet and seal the deal?
* * *
It didn't take long. Bill's old Beech's Motor clients started bringing their work to Bill at Osborne Automotive. Word spread and in a few months, Bill needed to take on another mechanic to keep up with the work. He asked Howie Fugate, and Howie was plenty ready to come. Working for Bill would feel a darned sight friendlier than working for Jeffries.
Alex finished his summer jobs and was back in school-his senior year. He had his skates and hockey stick ready-a big man on the team. He finished the flagstone path to Millie's greenhouse in the fall and worked at Bert's Burgers until hockey season started, then quit so he could practice with the team. Bill offered him part-time work at Osborne Automotive when he could fit it around his hockey schedule.
"You bet, Bill," Alex said. "Let me get the schedule from the coach, then I'll know when I can come. Thanks to you, I got that Range Rover paid for. Now I need to start saving for college. You know, Bill, I was darned lucky it was you that came along when I wrecked the Rover. Can you imagine where I'd been if Jeffries had been driving that wrecker?-Not that he'd risk smudging those creased britches of his climbing in a wrecker."
Bill laughed. "No, not much chance of that. Jeffries is ambitious, but he has some hard lessons to learn if he wants to climb the ladder.
"And, Alex, I think I owe you. I'm not sure why Franks decided to back me, but I've an idea you helped nudge him in that direction. Millie has a fancy word for this sort of thing. Serendipity, she calls it. I looked it up, and by golly, I think she's right."
Jennifer says:
A very well-written, nice story...the end didn't pack quite the punch I wanted, though. I think you need to make Alex feel like more of a risky bet; then the payoff at the end would be bigger.
Plot - 22
Characters - 20
Mechanics - 23
Enjoyment - 22
TOTAL - 86
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