Grant looked irritated now, not amused. He leaned toward the man seated beside him, who Walter recognized as his project manager. They whispered. The project manager shook his head once.
Grant looked toward Ethan, then toward Walter, and something complicated crossed his face. Pride wanted another bid. Business did not. Jason called for eighty-five.
Silence. “Eighty thousand, once.” Grant’s fingers tapped his bidder card. “Twice.”
Maya gripped Walter’s sleeve. “Sold.” “Eighty thousand dollars, bidder one-seventy-four.” The room erupted.
It was not a wild celebration. Kansas auction crowds are rarely wild indoors before dinner. But people clapped, murmured, turned to one another, and several older women wiped their eyes without embarrassment. Jason Bell hit the podium with the flat of his palm and called for order as his clerk recorded the sale.
Walter did not clap. He simply sat there staring at Ethan Cole like a man trying to understand why providence had chosen work boots and a bidder card. Maya stood first. She pushed through the aisle and reached Ethan before Walter could stop her.
“Are you serious?” she asked him. Ethan looked startled, then laughed once. “I hope so.” They’re going to want a deposit.
Maya threw her arms around him with the indiscriminate gratitude of a teenager who still believed good people should be hugged immediately. Ethan froze, then carefully returned the gesture. Walter approached more slowly. By the time he reached Ethan, Grant Holloway was signing paperwork at another table, his face controlled and unreadable.