Chapter 9 - The Restoration
Two months later, the pearl-white SUV was delivered back to the house on Lincoln Street in Evanston.
The repair work was flawless. The paint gleamed under the winter sun like fresh snow, not a single trace of the deep scrape remaining along the passenger side.
Claire stepped out onto the front porch, wrapped in a thick scarf, holding two mugs of steaming cocoa.
Parked beside the SUV was a brand-new, navy-blue utility vehicle with the crest of the Arthur Bennett Maritime Safety Foundation painted on the door.
Richard Whitmore stepped out from behind the utility vehicle, carrying a clipboard. He wasn't wearing his five-thousand-dollar suit, nor was he wearing the fake chauffeur's jacket. He was wearing a simple wool coat and leather driving gloves.
"The alignment is centered," Richard said, tapping the clipboard with a pen. "The suspension has been upgraded for winter driving. And the safety foundation charter was approved by the state board this morning at ten o'clock."
Claire walked down the steps and handed him one of the mugs. "You didn't have to fund the entire foundation, Richard."
"I didn't fund it as a charity, Claire," Richard said, taking a sip of the cocoa and looking at the new building crest. "I funded it as an investment. Your father’s inspection methods are going to be taught to every port supervisor in the Great Lakes region. It’s going to save lives."
He looked at her with a quiet, solemn warmth.
"Besides," he added, "Daniel tells me you accepted the position as senior risk analyst at Whitmore Logistics starting in January."
Claire smiled. "On one condition."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "What condition?"
"I report directly to the board," Claire said, her eyes flashing with playful authority. "And I have full audit power over all executive transportation expenses."
Richard let out a rich, deep laugh that echoed across the quiet neighborhood street.
"Deal," he said, holding out his hand.
Claire didn't take his hand. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his coat, and hugged him gently.
Richard paused for a fraction of a second, surprised by the simple warmth of the gesture, before folding his big, weathered arms around her shoulders.
May you like
"Thank you, James," she whispered near his ear.
Richard smiled into the cold air. "Anytime, miss."
