After double-checking all the sprockets and chains and finding nothing, Cece begins to lose hope. If the problem was an easyfix, Santiago would have done it himself, unless, of course, he wanted to highlight her incompetence in front of Richie. That’s probably his big plan. He’s invited Richie here today to make a big show it. Breaking another piece of machinery, plus skipping work on Monday—she’s as good as gone. Sweat burns her eyes. A horde of gulls yap and circle an incoming fishing boat. “Maybe we just call it, Brian. I appreciate your help.”
“But won’t you be fired?”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Cece says. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at anymore.”
“You said the rollers fell off first, right?”
“Sure, at least I think so.”
“Maybe the chains and sprockets aren’t the problem.”
“I’m all ears.”
Following Brian’s instructions, Cece hefts all the rollers back into place, cuts a long piece of string and lays it flat across the them. She’s looking for a gap or sag, something that might indicate where the frame could be warped or bent. Then, toward the front of the grader, she spots it, a small area where the roller track bends inward, like something crashed into it. It doesn’t matter how it happened, although Cece suspects Santiago (he was the only one who loaded the oyster crates onto the grader). What matters is how she can fix it. A hammer is the first thing that comes to mind, which seems exceedingly stupid.
Brian seems dubious. She could cause more damage. Cece acknowledges his concern, but she’s short on time. Out in the bay, she can see Santiago flipping bags. It’s slow going with just one person, but he’s making good progress, and he’ll be back on dry land soon. She thanks Brian profusely before hanging up andfetching the smallest hammer she can find. After much agonizing and lining up, Cece gives the steel frame a confident whack. The earsplitting clang draws the ire of a few crows who have taken up residence atop the warehouse roof. She runs the string across the rollers again. Almost, she thinks, and strikes the same spot. This time the string looks straight and flat, the rollers run on the track smoothly. It doesn’t look pretty—the frame dented and stippled—but Cece isn’t worried about appearances right now. As long as the grader is up and running, no one will go looking for a problem.
It takes another hour to put everything back in place: chains tightened and greased; bearings double-, then triple-checked; bushings scrubbed; guard covers reattached. Cece is meticulous but quick in her work. Richie will be stopping by at any moment. The grader needs a test run, but when Cece finally looks up, tools scattered around her in the hot gravel, she spots Santiago heading into port. There’s no time. After hastily cleaning up the area, Cece gives everything a final once-over and heads back to the warehouse.
Cece doesn’t move when Richie’s truck pulls in. Eyes closed, she’s seeing stars, so she waits, seated on the cool concrete floor, back against a tool chest. Not until she hears Santiago’s nasally voice does she will herself up, with a confident smile across her face, and step back out into the sun. The men are gathered around the grader, hands on their hips, expectant, like it’s a tamed circus animal, ready to perform a trick.
“What seems to be the problem?” Richie says. “You’re saying someone broke it?”
Santiago grins at Cece as she approaches. “Let me show you.”
Cece can barely look while Santiago plugs in the grader and walks over to the start button. His finger lingers over the switch; he’s enjoying this, no doubt. Determined to face the moment, Cece forces herself to watch. The machinery comes to life with a rattling chuff. Water sprays, gears churn, belts whirr, rollers roll, smooth like butter. Triumph wells in Cece’s chest. If only she could call Brian and tell him they’d done it!
Bewilderment paints Santiago’s tanned face. Richie scratches his stubble. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“Wait. You’ll see.”
“She’s running fine, Santi. This is a waste of my time.”
“Someone must have fixed it. But I’m telling you, she broke it the other day,” Santiago says and points at Cece.
Now it’s Cece’s turn to relish the moment and watch Santiago flail. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Flustered, Richie looks back and forth between them, the grader whirring and thunderous. “Will someone shut that thing off? I can’t hear myself think.”
Santiago hits the kill switch and stands bashfully while water dribbles and drips.
“Now, I understand you two have had your differences, but you can’t be blaming each other and causing problems. I won’t have it—”
“But she broke—”
“Cut it out,” Richie says and holds up a hand. “It ain’t broke. So either you’re trying to make Cece look bad, or she fixed it. Either way, you’re wasting my time.”
Cece compels every muscle in her face to repress the smile that’s threatening to break. This feels good.
“Now, what’s this I hear about you skipping out on work yesterday?” Richie says and glowers at her.
“I…uh…” Cece splutters.
“She was here,” Santiago says. “That was my mistake.”
“I’ll give you the day off, Santi,” Richie says, “if you wanna go get your eyes checked. Maybe you need glasses.”
“Maybe,” Santiago mutters.
