Chapter 4 - The Interview
Daniel arrived at 8:12 the next morning.
Eighteen minutes early.
I watched through the office window as he parked an old Ford with a dented passenger door at the far end of the lot.
He sat behind the wheel for almost a minute.
Then he got out.
Clean work jeans.
Boots.
Pressed button-down shirt.
No suit.
Good.
I didn't want somebody who knew how to dress like a warehouse supervisor.
I wanted somebody who knew how to be one.
My general manager, Teresa Cole, entered my office carrying Daniel's application.
Teresa had worked for me for fourteen years and possessed the rare ability to terrify truck drivers without ever raising her voice.
"You know him personally?" she asked.
"Since yesterday."
"That's not personally."
"Fair."
"You want me to hire him?"
"I want you to interview him."
She put the application on my desk.
"You understand those aren't the same thing."
"That's why you're doing it."
Teresa sat.
"I called his former employer."
I leaned back.
"And?"
"He wasn't fired."
"I know. Layoff."
"Correct. Facility downsizing. Thirty-one positions eliminated."
"Then what's the problem?"
"No problem."
Her expression remained unreadable.
"His former supervisor said Daniel was the best shift lead they had."
I frowned.
"That's complicated?"
"I'm getting there."
She turned a page.
"He was offered a transfer."
I stared at her.
"Where?"
"Nashville."
"Why didn't he take it?"
"Lily's pulmonologist is here. His wife died four years ago. The neighbor helps with childcare. Moving would've eliminated his support network."
I looked through the window.
Daniel was entering reception.
Teresa continued.
"His former boss said Mercer routinely worked overtime without claiming all of it."
"That's illegal."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because his department's overtime budget was capped, and he didn't want hourly workers losing shifts."
I rubbed my beard.
"That's either admirable or stupid."
"Usually both."
She closed the file.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The warehouse tried rehiring him last week."
That surprised me.
"Before the arrest?"
"Two days before."
"Why didn't he go back?"
"Benefits wouldn't restart for ninety days."
I looked at her.
"Lily couldn't wait ninety days."
"Exactly."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Teresa stood.
"I'll interview him."
"Don't go easy."
She gave me a look.
"When have I ever?"
Forty minutes later, she returned.
"He's hired."
I laughed.
"That fast?"
"Ray, he redesigned my receiving schedule on the whiteboard during the interview."
"Show-off."
"He found a bottleneck we've been dealing with for six months."
"Definitely a show-off."
"Start him Monday."
I looked through the glass.
Daniel sat in reception, hands clasped between his knees.
Yesterday those hands had been cuffed.
Today they were waiting to sign employment papers.
Funny how quickly a life can turn when somebody gets one decent break.
I walked out.
Daniel stood immediately.
"Well?"
"Teresa hates you."
His face fell.
"You're starting Monday."
He stared.
Then realized I was joking.
"You're an ass."
"That's why they call me Hammer."
"I'm pretty sure that's not why."
Teresa handed him the benefits package.
"Medical coverage begins on your first day."
Daniel stopped smiling.
He opened the folder.
His eyes scanned the prescription section.
"Her inhaler?"
"Covered," Teresa said. "We verified it this morning."
Daniel sat down.
Just sat.
Teresa glanced at me.
Neither of us interrupted.
After a moment, Daniel pressed both hands against his face.
"Sorry."
"Nothing to apologize for," Teresa said.
He lowered his hands.
"I haven't slept."
"Then sleep this weekend. Monday, I intend to work you."
He laughed weakly.
"Yes, ma'am."
The following weeks changed him.
Not instantly.
Life doesn't work that way.
Daniel still had diversion requirements. He completed every appointment, every community-service hour, every piece of paperwork.
The legal-aid attorney kept track.
The pharmacy owner sent confirmation of restitution.
And Daniel worked.
He arrived early.
Stayed focused.
Never asked for special treatment.
Within ten days, Teresa told me he'd reorganized the loading schedule.
Within three weeks, missed shipments had dropped.
Within a month, drivers had stopped complaining about dispatch.
That last accomplishment bordered on supernatural.
Lily changed too.
Her medication stabilized her breathing.
She visited the clubhouse twice.
The first time she arrived, she carried the pink piggy bank.
Rook had apparently taken the naming issue seriously.
"So," he asked, "what'd you name him?"
Lily lifted the pig.
"Hammer."
Everyone laughed except me.
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"One Hammer is enough."
She hugged the pig.
"He's Little Hammer."
That was worse.
The name stuck.
Daniel sat beside me while Lily helped Preacher decorate a donation box for the hospital ride.
"I haven't seen her this happy since her mother died."
I looked at him.
"You never mentioned her."
"Emily."
His voice softened.
"Cancer."
"I'm sorry."
"Four years."
He watched Lily.
"After she died, it became just us."
"And Mrs. Ortiz."
He smiled.
"And Mrs. Ortiz."
"Family doesn't always mean blood."
"No."
Daniel glanced around the clubhouse.
"I'm beginning to understand that."
The charity ride was approaching.
More than two hundred riders had registered.
The hospital had asked whether Lily might participate in the opening ceremony after hearing what happened.
Daniel initially refused.
He didn't want his daughter's worst day turned into entertainment.
I agreed.
But Lily overheard us.
"Can I ride the motorcycle?"
Daniel groaned.
"You heard only that part?"
"Yes."
Eventually we compromised.
She could ride in the padded sidecar of the club's custom trike during the slow ceremonial opening section, wearing proper protective equipment.
Rook ordered her a miniature leather vest.
On the back, embroidered in white, were three words:
LITTLE SAINT LILY.
When she saw it, she screamed so loudly half the clubhouse thought someone had been injured.
The morning of the ride arrived bright and clear.
Motorcycles filled Raines Road.
Two hundred engines turned the pavement into a living vibration.
Families gathered along the route.
Hospital staff waited at the destination.
Lily climbed into the sidecar wearing her vest.
Daniel stood beside her.
And secured beside the dashboard was the pink ceramic piggy bank.
Little Hammer.
"Why'd you bring that?" I asked.
Lily looked offended.
"He started everything."
Hard to argue with that.
Daniel climbed onto the trike.
I mounted my Harley ahead of him.
Before putting on his helmet, Daniel called my name.
"Ray."
I turned.
"Thank you."
I shook my head.
"Ride first. Get sentimental later."
He smiled.
The engines started.
The sound rolled through Memphis like thunder.
I raised my hand.
Two hundred riders prepared to move.
Then I looked in my mirror.
Lily was waving at people lining the street.
Daniel was smiling.
The pink pig sat beside the speedometer.
Ten years earlier, Daniel Mercer had carried my brother home.
May you like
Now, without planning it, the Iron Saints were carrying Daniel and Lily toward something that finally resembled a future.
But halfway through the charity ride, Lily would see another child standing beside the road—and what she did next would prove that twenty-three dollars and seventeen cents had never really been about money at all.
