Then at Reid.
“This is worse than the photographs.”
“I cleaned.”
“That concerns me.”
Caleb arrived with coffee.
Owen brought pastries.
Within twenty minutes, Marian had claimed the desk, assigned temporary trays, and informed Reid that handwritten supplier notes on envelopes were no longer an accounting system.
He looked relieved.
Terrified.
I sat at my bench replacing a damaged fuse holder while listening to her take the first customer call.
She was calm.
Direct.
She did not apologize for prices or promise impossible dates.
At nine, a man walked in asking for Reid.
Marian stopped him before he crossed the yellow line leading onto the floor.
“Appointment?”
“No.”
“Name?”
“Harold Pierce.”
“Purpose?”
“Need to ask him about my boat.”
“Your boat has a work order?”
“Should.”
“Then I can help.”
Harold stared at her.
“Who are you?”
“The reason Reid is currently repairing something instead of discussing whether he has started repairing it.”
From the north bay, Caleb laughed.
Harold stayed at the desk.
Marian found his work order, gave him an accurate update, and scheduled a callback.
