Chapter 6: Lilies

When I got to Malloy Auto at five, the Maybach was up on the lift and Harrison was underneath it.

He had his sleeves rolled to the elbow and a rag over his shoulder.

He was holding a flashlight for Pete.

Two of Pete's guys sat on upturned buckets by the tire rack, eating sandwiches, watching with open joy.

"A little left," Pete said.

"This left?"

"Your other left."

Harrison shifted the light.

A drop of oil fell off the pan and landed on his cheek.

"Is it supposed to do that?" he said.

"It's an oil change, man. It's supposed to do that."

One of the guys wheezed into his sandwich.

I stood in the bay door in my coat and said, "Is he doing any damage?"

Pete slid out from under the car on his creeper.

"He's actually good with a wrench," he said. "Bad at holding still."

Harrison came out after him with oil on his cheek and his hair in his eyes.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"I'm learning to change a filter."

"I can see that."

He looked at his hands.

"Your brother has been telling me what a sorry specimen I am. It's been very educational."

Pete wiped his palms on his coverall and said, not looking at either of us, "He asked me where Dad's buried."

My throat tightened.

"Pete."

"I figured you'd want to decide."

I looked at Harrison.

He didn't look away, and he didn't say anything clever.

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