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Station right before Patrick left to go to his afternoon job at the Rose and Thorn. “Hatch,” as he was known, was a homely car mechanic who had been Hannah’s high school boyfriend. He worked at a service station in Fleurmania, a town so small it made Rose Hill seem like a metropolis.
    Patrick embraced Hatch and clapped him on the back.
    “I can’t believe my eyes,” Patrick said. “I didn’t think Marvin ever let you off the chain up there.”
    “That mean old sumbitch up and died on me this past weekend,” Hatch said. “Can you believe that?”
    “Well, he wasn’t exactly a health nut,” Patrick said, and invited Hatch inside out of the cold wind.
    Station owner Curtis Fitzpatrick greeted Hatch warmly and offered him a seat by the stove. The old coots had toddled off home for lunch so they had the place to themselves except for the mechanic, Lester, who was working on a car in one of the two service bays.
    “I can’t believe Marvin lived as long as he did,” Curtis said when they told him. “He had that sugar problem and drank like a fish.”
    “He was a big man,” Patrick said, “around the middle and at both ends.”
    “Yep,” Hatch said. “Had himself a heart attack. His wife said he was yelling at some politician on the TV and just fell over.”
    “What’s going to happen to the station?” Curtis asked.
    “Well,” Hatch said. “That’s what I came to talk to y’all about. I was hoping you’d want to buy it.”
    “Nah,” Curtis said, shaking his head. “You know as well as I do that selling gas doesn’t make much money, and at least we’ve got the tourist trade. Fleurmania isn’t on anyone’s way anywhere.”
    “We do alright,” Hatch said. “I get a lot of repair business from the Mennonite church and the Sugar Creek mine. If I had the money I’d buy the place myself. Slim Nida said he’d drive the wrecker for me and his wife Edith could work the front office.”
    “Can’t you get a loan?”
    “Not without a down payment. I could pay the payments, but not the twenty percent down.”
    “How much does the widow want?”
    “A hundred grand.”
    “Lordy day, son,” Curtis said. “That old station’s not worth that. Don’t you let Melvin’s old lady hornswaggle you.”
    “It’s not just the building,” Hatch said. “It includes the oil company contract, all the equipment, the wrecker, and the tire and battery business.”
    “You should get that appraised. I still think she’s cheatin’ ya.”
    “So you really ain’t interested?” Hatch asked.
    “No, son, I haven’t got twenty grand to play around with, and I can’t afford to take the risk. I’ve got no debt right now, and I aim to keep it that way.”
    “What about you, Patrick?”
    “If I were gonna spend a hundred grand,” Patrick said. “I’d buy the old Woolworths building, expand the bar, add a proper stage, sound equipment, and a dance floor. Sorry, Hatch.”
    “Well, it was worth a try,” Hatch said.
    “Now, if you need work I’d love to have you over here,” Curtis said. “We get more than enough business to keep two mechanics busy, and I can always use another tow driver in the winter.”
    “I appreciate that,” Hatch said. “I’ll keep that in mind, I will.”
    Hatch stood up to go and Patrick offered to buy him a beer at the Thorn.
    “No, I got my sister’s child in school up to home, and I like to be there when he gets off the bus,” Hatch said. “You tell Hannah I said hi.”
    “I’ll do it,” Curtis said.
    After Hatch left, Curtis shook his head and sighed.
    “That poor boy never had a chance. I pulled what was left of his daddy’s truck up out of a ravine after he wrecked it; he was soaked in whiskey and dead on arrival. Then his mama died of cancer and left him with all those kids to raise. Ian and I offered to take them in, but Hatch said he wasn’t raised to accept any charity.”
    “Maggie said the oldest girl’s got mixed up with drugs,” Patrick said.