“Who runs things day to day while the boys are growing up?” Dale asked, clearing his throat.

“You do,” I said.

“You get the fleet manager title and the full executive salary.”

“I was fixin’ to retire come November, Garrett,” Dale said.

“You can retire when my boys turn twenty-one,” I said, tucking the pen back into my pocket.

I slid the heavy stack across the glass counter to the clerk.

She picked up her red stamp and brought it down on the bottom of every page with a sharp wooden thud that rang through the quiet room.

When she was done, I worked the brass master key for the dispatch gate off my key ring and laid it on the counter next to the papers.