The Single Dad nodded toward his head.
She stared.
“My memory.”
The Woman looked at the room.
Then back.
“How is that working?”
“Not great.”
She stood.
Picked up three sheets from the nearest pile.
“Past due invoice.”
Another.
“Warranty reimbursement.”
Another.
“Parts order without a tracking number.”
She looked at him.
“When was this job completed?”
He checked.
“February.”
“It’s June.”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t filed the warranty claim.”
“No.”
“You still might have time.”
The Single Dad stopped smiling.
The Woman started sorting.
He watched.
Five minutes later, the desk had separate stacks.
Receivables.
Payables.
Warranty.
Parts.
Customer callbacks.
The Single Dad stood beside the counter like someone watching a magician dismantle a trick he had mistaken for reality.
The Woman held up another invoice.
“This customer owes you eight hundred forty dollars.”
“He never paid?”
“There’s no record you sent the invoice.”
The Single Dad closed his eyes.
“Right.”
She placed it in the receivables stack.
The Son reappeared.
Worksheet finished.
He held it toward the Woman.
She checked problem seven.
“Correct.”
The boy smiled.
Small.
Real.
The Single Dad saw it.
His chest tightened.
“Thanks.”
The Son said it quietly.
The Woman nodded.
“You did it.”
“I just showed you where you stopped.”
The Son looked at her for another second.
Then returned to the back room.
The Single Dad looked at the doorway.
Then at the Woman.
“When can you start?”
She raised one eyebrow.
“Are you offering?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the pay?”
He told her.
She did not accept immediately.
“Fourteen an hour for sixty days.”
The Single Dad waited.
“Then we review it.”
“If I’m doing what this place actually needs, we renegotiate.”
The Single Dad stared.
She extended her hand.
He shook it.
Her hand was cold from the rain.
“One condition.”
She said.
“What?”
“Weekdays, noon to one.”
“I need to leave.”
“Personal matter.”
“Non-negotiable.”
The Single Dad almost asked why.
Stopped himself.
“Okay.”
The Woman studied him.
That answer mattered.
He did not know how much yet.
She closed the folder.
Picked up the travel bag.
Then looked at him.
“And the first thing you said?”
The Single Dad winced.
“Never again.”
“Good.”
She left.
The Single Dad stood by the front window watching her cross the muddy lot.
The Son appeared beside him.
“She got the job?”
“Yes.”