“You’re not the first man who’s shown up impressed by my son,” she said.
Something about the sentence landed heavily.
“I’m not here to take advantage of him.”
“That’s what the last one said too.”
Before Wendell could ask what she meant, she stepped inside and shut the door.
—
Wendell sat in his SUV for a long time.
The engine remained running.
But he didn’t drive away.
For once, he wasn’t thinking about shareholders.
Contracts.
Revenue.
The board.
He was thinking about a thirteen-year-old boy who understood systems instinctively.
And a mother who reacted to opportunity as though opportunity had already hurt her once.
One bad connection.
That sentence wouldn’t leave his head.
That night, Wendell canceled his flight.
He skipped a meeting in Dallas.
He ignored calls from his chief financial officer and checked into the only motel nearby.
At 11:42 p.m., his assistant Mara called.
“Wendell, where are you?”
“Pine Hollow, Alabama.”
There was a pause.
“Is that a real place?”
“Very.”
“The board is asking why you missed the energy summit. Lawson is making this into a problem.”
At the mention of Elliot Lawson, the company’s chief operating officer, Wendell felt an uneasiness he couldn’t explain.
“Tell them I found something more important.”
“More important than the federal infrastructure contract?”
Wendell stared at the spare business card lying on the motel desk.
“Possibly the thing that saves it.”
Then he hung up.
—
The following morning, Wendell returned to the Tate house.
This time, he left the luxury SUV behind.
He borrowed an old pickup from the motel owner and wore jeans and a plain shirt.
He knew changing clothes didn’t change who he was.
But perhaps it would make his arrival feel less like an invasion.
Jaylen was kneeling beside a broken lawnmower in the yard.
