He pulled away a piece.
Held it out.
“This started before the delivery truck.”
The CEO looked at the rot.
Then at him.
Instead of softening, she became more defensive.
“How much more are you planning to add to the bill?”
The Single Dad lowered his hand.
“Nothing without approval.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer.
“You think I don’t know what this is?”
The Single Dad waited.
“You come onto a property like mine.”
“You see the house.”
“You see the cars.”
“You decide the job can suddenly become bigger.”
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
He placed the rotten wood on the ground.
Then walked toward his toolbox.
The CEO frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
She stared.
“What?”
He closed the case.
“You think I’m inventing damage to raise the bill.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
He picked up the toolbox.
The CEO moved directly into his path.
“You don’t walk away in the middle of work I hired you to do.”
The Single Dad looked at her.
“You hired me to fix a fence.”
“You didn’t hire me to let you call me dishonest.”
She folded her arms.
“You’re a handyman.”
“Yes.”
“You fix things for people like me.”
The words hung between them.
Her face remained cold.
“That’s all this is.”
The Single Dad did not flinch.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He looked toward the exposed post.
“That’s all this is.”
Then he stepped around her.
The CEO remained still.
Three steps later, she said:
“Stop.”
He stopped.
Did not turn.
She looked at the rotten wood.
Then the leaning post.
Then at the rest of the fence.
Her voice was lower when she spoke again.
“How many?”
The Single Dad turned slightly.
“How many what?”
“Posts.”
“Three definitely.”
“One more I want to test.”
“And if you’re right?”
“Then we reset them properly.”
“How much?”
He gave her the number.
Her eyebrows rose.
“That’s less than the other estimate.”
“The other estimate probably included work you don’t need.”
The CEO stared.
“So you’re not trying to make the job bigger.”
“No.”
“You’re making it smaller.”
“I’m making it accurate.”
A long silence followed.
The CEO looked down at her shoes.
Then at the mud.
Then back at him.
“Put the toolbox down.”
He did.
That was how it began.
The Single Dad had burned his hand that morning making coffee.
Not badly.