“And money.”
Now he had some.
He did not quit the warehouse immediately.
That surprised Danny.
“I thought tomorrow was dramatic resignation day.”
Michael shook his head.
“I need health insurance.”
“Boring.”
“I also need to know whether people will actually pay me.”
He used part of the meteorite money as a business fund.
Not all.
A used cargo van.
$11,200.
Shelving.
Liability insurance.
Licensing where required.
Better tools.
Website.
Simple logo.
TURNER HOME REPAIR.
Danny hated the name.
“You need something cooler.”
“Like?”
“Cosmic Repairs.”
“No.”
“Bruno Brothers.”
“No.”
“Out of This World Handyman.”
“Absolutely not.”
Michael kept Turner Home Repair.
He worked warehouse shifts four days a week and took jobs evenings and Fridays.
At first, the schedule became worse.
Seventy hours turned into eighty.
But the difference mattered.
Each home-repair job belonged to something he was building.
A bathroom faucet.
A damaged door.
A rental turnover.
An elderly couple needing grab bars installed safely.
A property manager with six small repairs.
Then ten.
Reviews accumulated.
Michael showed up when promised.
Charged what he quoted.
Explained when something required a licensed specialist instead of pretending he could do everything.
Customers remembered.
Within eight months, the repair business earned almost as much as the warehouse.
Michael reduced his shifts.
Three months later, he resigned.
No speech.
No revenge.
No supervisor begging him to stay.
He handed in notice.
Worked the final two weeks.
Clocked out.
Then sat in his van for ten minutes staring at the warehouse where he had spent seven years.
He expected triumph.
Instead, he felt frightened.
Bruno’s carrier sat on the passenger seat.
Michael had taken him to the veterinarian that morning before work.
The cat complained the entire drive.
Michael looked at him.
“Well.”
“We’re unemployed.”
Bruno meowed.
“Technically self-employed.”
Another meow.
“Thank you for the correction.”
The remaining meteorite pieces sold slowly.
Michael kept several.
Carlos recommended keeping a representative specimen with complete provenance.
Michael selected the first piece he remembered Bruno bringing back after the cardboard box agreement.
Dark.
Dense.
About the size of a small plum.
Stephanie had it professionally stabilized.
Carlos gave Michael a display label.
TURNER-WESTON METEORITE
IRON METEORITE FRAGMENT
RECOVERED IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, OHIO
DISCOVERED THROUGH INITIAL ANIMAL TRANSPORT AND SUBSEQUENT DOCUMENTED FIELD RECOVERY
Michael read it.
“Animal transport?”
Carlos smiled.
“Academic language for cat theft.”
“Put Bruno.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
Michael commissioned a small plaque separately.
BRUNO FOUND IT FIRST.
That sat beneath the specimen in his living room.
News eventually escaped.
Not through Michael.
Howard mentioned the meteorite at a development meeting.
Someone told a reporter.
The local newspaper called.
Michael refused.
Then Diane called.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re famous?”
“I’m not.”
“There’s a woman from Channel Eight asking about Bruno.”
Michael sighed.
The first article ran:
DAYTON CAT LEADS OWNER TO METEORITE FRAGMENTS
Then television.
Then national websites.
The story became simplified immediately.
Cat brings home space treasure.