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center. One day she’d explain to him about single moms without jobs, places to live, extended family, transportation, food and, most important, without self-esteem. “Do you mind if I ask—how long have you known him? Clay?”
    The mechanic rolled his eyes back in his head as he thought. “Maybe six years or so. I’m a volunteer firefighter. I first met him that way. He’s a friend of the family now.”
    “Yeah,” Dory said. “And mover, landscaper, babysitter?”
    Stan grinned.
    “Funny story?” she asked. “He said he kept your kids overnight and one of them was sick.”
    He actually laughed. “That wasn’t the worst of it—the little fella infected Clay. The guy was sick as a dog for three days. He’s still whining about it, to this day. That’s the way it goes. If you have kids, you know about that. One gets it, it goes through the whole family.” And then being brought back to the business at hand, he said, “I checked the brakes. Brakes look fine.”
    Dory smiled at him. “This is very nice of you, Stan.” She was reminded that too often, because of her experience, she forgotthere were wonderful men in the world. In fact, she’d met so many at the Zoë Institute and in her own mission here in California. Good men who were kind and strong and trustworthy. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I don’t know what I would’ve done without this generosity.”
    “You’d have paid through the nose,” he said easily, not really taking himself too seriously. “But it’s not that big a deal to help out now and then. I’ll just catch up on Saturday.”
    She heard the rare sound of her own laughter. “How many kids do you have, Stan?”
    “Three. All boys. The oldest is eight.”
    “And you’re going to stay late tonight? And catch up on Saturday? I bet your wife complains!”
    He shook his head almost shyly, looking down. “Yeah, sometimes she gives me the business. But when you get down to it, she wouldn’t have it any other way.”
    Dory dug around in her purse and pulled out a business card for The Single Mother’s Resource Agency. It had four names and home phone numbers on it—it would be that way until they could open a center. “Tell your wife and sister we need volunteers to help single moms really down on their luck. And tell them we have a great time together.”
    He took the card and smiled. “Sure. Will do.”
    “Hey!” she said. “I just thought of something! How about if we set you up to teach a course to single mothers on car maintenance and repair? I mean, I know you can’t show them how to replace a transmission or service brakes, but if they just learned enough to know when something’s really wrong. Or to keep their cars running without being taken advantage of by less than honest mechanics.”
    He cocked his head and lifted a brow. “Worth thinking about,” he said.
    “I’ll get to work on that idea,” she said with a grin. “And I’ll give you a call later to see if the truck’s ready.”
     
    T HE NEXT MORNING Dory dropped her kids off at their school and went to pick up Clay at the firehouse. She vacated the driver’s side so he could take over. When he opened the door, she said, “Stan said my car would be ready this morning, if you want to swing by there.”
    Clay grunted and got behind the wheel.
    “Are you upset about something?” she asked.
    “Sorry,” he grumbled. “I was up all night. That’s pretty rare around here, unless it’s wildfire season. I’m just tired.”
    “Want me to drive?” she asked. “I’ve just about figured out how to pull into a parking space without wiping out the other cars.” She grinned at him.
    He didn’t seem to appreciate her humor at the moment. Nor did he seem to notice that for once she wasn’t biting his head off. “I got it,” he said, taking the captain’s seat.
    “Whew, you’re a little grumpy.”
    “Sorry,” he said again. “I held off on coffee so I can sleep when I get home. The