TJ pulled into the lot of Green’s Garage and exited his truck. Just as Tammy had called the motel for him last night, when he’d entered the office this morning to get the mechanic’s number, he learned that Nana had already phoned the repair shop. He wasn’t used to strangers going out of their way for him like that. Would everyone he encountered here be just as friendly?
Instead of entering through the office, he walked into one of the open bays directly into the garage. An older guy, whose face reminded him of the musician Adam Levine, entered the space from a side door.
“Can I help you?”
With his country twang, he definitely wasn’t Adam Levine.
“I’m lookin’ for Nolan. Nana sent me.”
“Oh, hey. I’m Nolan. You must be TJ.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s goin’ on with your truck?”
“Well, it’s runnin’ a bit sluggish and the check engine light came on last night as I was drivin’ into town.”
“Go ahead and pull her into the empty bay so we can run a diagnostic.”
Once TJ drove his truck in and cut the engine, Nolan opened the front passenger door and hopped in with the code reader tool, handing the connector end to TJ.
“Under the dash to the left of the steering column you should find where to plug this in. Then start the truck to power it up.”
He felt around and found the outlet, connected the tool, and started the engine. He watched as Nolan reviewed the information appearing on the handheld device.
“Looks like your fuel filter is the culprit. I can have it changed out for ya in a jiffy.”
TJ hoped it wouldn’t set him back too much. He needed to watch his spending until he could find a steady income. But he also needed his truck to get around, so he’d have to cut corners elsewhere. He tried to hide his nervousness as he asked, “How much?”
Nolan hopped out of the truck. “Since Nana sent ya, I’ll give ya a price break. A hundred bucks ’ll cover the part and the install.”
He sighed in relief. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it. I’ve got an appointment this afternoon about a foreman’s job, so I’m glad it wasn’t something major.”
“You don’t say. Would that be at Sullivan’s Farm?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know it?”
Nolan chuckled. “Definitely. Sean Sullivan’s a good friend of mine. Matter of fact, the foreman he’s hiring is for a horse therapy program my wife and father-in-law just started.”
Seems everyone in this town was connected one way or another. Maybe he could get some intel that would be helpful for the interview. He ran his fingers through his hair as he volunteered some additional information. “I stopped for a meal last night since my truck was actin’ up and saw the ad. I’m between jobs at the moment and was just passin’ through, but this opportunity sounds interesting.”
“I’ve been in Green Springs all my life. Great town. Be sure to tell Sean you were here. We’re leavin’ all the hiring decisions to him.”
He extended a hand toward Nolan. Thanks again for takin’ care of my truck.”
As he drove east on Highway 78 toward Sullivan’s Farm, TJ felt a familiar tightening in his shoulders, the typical reaction in anticipation of new situations and people when the stakes were high. He tried his best to think positive thoughts as he approached his destination. About fifteen minutes after he set out, he spotted a large wooden sign designating the entrance to Sullivan’s Christmas Tree Farm. This had to be the right place, but he’d assumed Sullivan’s was a horse farm. Slowing down, he turned into a gravel lane and followed a long driveway for about a quarter of a mile before coming to a large one-story ranch-style house topped with a bright red metal roof and framed by a wide front porch with several rocking chairs and large pots of fall mums and evergreens. He kept driving past the house and around to the rear where a large barn and a horse corral were situated. Since he was a few minutes early, he hopped out of the truck and looked around, taking in the landscape, while breathing deep and letting the fresh air fill his lungs. The views and scents of country life never failed to calm his nerves. As he turned toward the barn, a red-headed gentleman who looked to be in his mid-forties came out and walked toward him, raising his hand in greeting. He was accompanied by a brindle-colored dog wagging its back end.
“Hey there. You must be TJ. I’m Sean Sullivan.”
TJ gripped the extended hand, hoping his wasn’t too sweaty. “Yes, sir. TJ Juarez.”
“Good to meet you. Thanks for comin’ out. Hope you don’t mind a walk-around interview.”
“No, sir.”
As they approached the barn’s entrance, Sean continued talking. “You might be wonderin’ why you came to a tree farm to work with horses. The tree business has been in my family for generations. It’s a year-round operation, but obviously the product is seasonal. My daughter was really into raisin’ some livestock and ridin’ her horse when she was younger, so we’ve had some typical barnyard animals over the years. When the kids come with their parents to pick out a Christmas tree, we let ‘em visit with the animals. But the main reason you’re here is because we’ve recently taken on a new function. We are now the site of an equine therapy ranch calledLinda’s Legacy. It’s a non-profit, established by family members of a friend of mine. I’ve taken on the role of operations manager to get the ranch up and running, but I need a foreman to be hands-on and take the lead in the care and feeding of the horses and the rest of the livestock, so I can focus on my tree operation.”
TJ felt some of the stress leave his shoulders at Sean’s laid-back manner. “Actually, I met your friend earlier today. My truck was givin’ me trouble, so I took it to Green’s Garage.”
