“ProMotive buys the whole place,” he says carefully. “George, I know how that sounds. I’m not saying that like it doesn’t matter. I’m just saying it’s not automatically the end of everything.”
He rotates the bottle in his hands once. “I wasn’t going to bring this up until the letters started coming in again. I didn’t plan on doing this either, but my uncle’s been pushing harder lately. Family business, all that. He wants me in South Carolina.”
I stand up and go to the window that faces the dark bay. I think about the Gran Torino sitting in the garage at home beneath its drop cloth, the car my father always wanted but never got, now being rebuilt by his son.
“My father’s name is on that sign,” I sigh, thinking about how much of this is still about him. “Along with yours.”
I can clearly see Carter trying to keep his voice and expression steady. “And I’m not saying any of this lightly.”
“Then give it to me straight. What’s actually behind this?”
When I turn from the window, he focuses on his shoes instead of me.
“Part of it is the security offer,” he admits eventually. “Part of it is…I’ve needed a change for a while now and kept pretending I didn’t.”
I sit down at the desk. “Is it about the shop, or something that I’ve done?”
“It’s not the shop.” He raises his gaze to meet mine. “This isn’t about anything you’ve done. You’ve been a good business partner,and a friend. I love the shop, and I don’t regret being a part of all this. But this is mine to carry, not yours.”
Carter’s never been anything less than straight with me in years I’ve known him. The fact he’s hesitating at all tells me exactly how real this is.
“George, I’m not trying to force you into a sale. If there’s another way to handle my share without making a mess of it, I’ll work with you on it.”
“I understand.” The words come out even, even if I don’t feel it. “It’s sixty days from formal notice. That’s what the agreement says. And we’ll make your share work.”
Carter appears like he doesn’t expect me to say that at all.
“I mean it,” I add. “One way or another.”
“I’m not really worried about that,” he replies, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just feel bad it’s happening like this. That’s why I kept putting it off. When ProMotive showed interest, I thought they might be the answer.” He grimaces a little. “Sorry, man.”
I can’t say I’m not disappointed it’s come to this, and I do my best not to let it show. He doesn’t need me to tell him to stay. Can’t ask him to if he’s already halfway out the door.
Either way, it’s going to hurt the numbers. I’ll have to work for it. Figure out a way through without losing what the shop is supposed to be.
Carter stands, takes his water bottle to the break room sink and washes it. He takes his jacket off the hook by the back door.
He stops in the office doorway on his way out, his eyes taking in Dad’s photo on the wall. It’s him in his thirties, standing beneath the Torres Auto sign with his hand on the hood of a customer’s Buick, squinting against the sun. He was a man who built something from nothing and didn’t get to keep it long enough.
“He’d have figured it out,” Carter says. “Whatever the problem was.”
I grunt.
“So will you.” There’s no doubt in his voice.
His truck starts in the back lot a minute later and pulls out of the Fourth Avenue. I listen until the sound fades down the street.
I have sixty days to come up with that amount of money, or I sell the place, take the payout, and watch my father’s name come off the building within three months.
I don’t think I’m built for that version of things.
25
George
I stop at Whole Foods on the way to Lance’s place Wednesday morning. The list he texted me at 11:15 the night before was three things long: coffee, eggs, bread. Looked like he typed it between patients with one eye half-open and nothing left in his fridge except expired condiments.
I grab the basics, then start throwing extra shit into the cart without really thinking about it. Greek yogurt because he goes through it and never replaces it until he’s down to ketchup packets and ice cubes. Two bags of mandarins because he eats them standing over the sink while scrolling his phone and calls that nutrition. Lemon pepper crackers he swears he doesn’t care about but somehow wipes out in one sitting every single time.
