—This morning, a team from the labor board and some of my legal people visited the warehouse —Grant continued—. The facility has been shut down for safety issues until further notice. The lease has been terminated, effective immediately. Mr. Reeves will not be supervising anyone there ever again.
Caleb’s knees felt suddenly weak, and he sat down on the edge of a chair.
—I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble —he said slowly—. I just…
—You didn’t get him in trouble —Grant cut in—. His own choices did. You simply lit up the room enough for everyone to see it clearly.
He reached into a leather folder and laid a stack of papers on the coffee table.
—I’ve decided to open a new operations and fleet service center in that location —Grant said—. Clean, safe, properly staffed, with decent pay and real benefits. We’ll handle maintenance on a big portion of my company’s trucks there.
He paused, letting the words sink in.
—I need someone to run it —he added—. Someone who understands hard work and knows what it means to value people. Someone my drivers can trust.
He looked straight at Caleb.
—I’d like that person to be you.
Caleb blinked, certain he’d misheard.
—Me? —he repeated.
—You —Grant confirmed—. You’d start as site manager. Salary of forty-two hundred a month after taxes, health insurance for your whole family, retirement contributions, and a performance bonus if the center does well. We’ll send in a team to handle the setup and training. But I want your name on the door.
Megan made a choked sound behind him, one hand flying to her mouth.
—Why? —Caleb asked, still stunned—. You hardly know me.
Grant stood, placed a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed.
—Because yesterday, when everything in your life depended on staying safe and quiet, you chose a stranger’s life instead —he said—. I trust people who do the right thing when it costs them something. My daughter woke up this morning asking about “the man with the dusty truck.” She wants to see you.
