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“I’m going to tell her tonight.”

“About the job?” Jasmine asked.

Nodding, Evelyn felt her shoulders relax a little now that she had decided. “She deserves to know the entire situation,” she said. “Even if it complicates things.”

Standing at the front desk of the garage, Jo scribbled numbers on a notepad while Mica leaned against the counter. “You’vebeen squinting at that same stack of invoices for twenty minutes,” she said. “You solving a mystery or just hoping the numbers rearrange themselves into something less depressing?”

Jo didn’t look up. “I’m hoping they start lying to me.”

“No such luck, huh?” Mica asked, and Jo grunted in response, flipping the page. Her eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets all morning. Inventory lists, replacement costs, vendor estimates. She already knew the answer, but some part of her kept hoping she had missed something. That there was a line item she overlooked that would magically make the math work. There wasn’t.

There was a knock on the open door of the garage bay, and Jo looked to see a tall man in a blazer that screamed “corporate casual” step inside. He carried a tablet case under one arm. “Jo Fuller?” he asked, scanning the room like she might be hiding behind the tire racks.

“That’s me,” Jo said, straightening to make her location known. “Are you from the insurance company?”

“Yes. Albert Withers, Westview Commercial,” he said with a nod. “I’m here to assess the damage and review your claim.”

Closing the distance between them, Jo gestured toward the garage and all that was in it. “Thanks for coming,” she said. “Right this way.” As they walked across the main bay, Albert tapped notes into his tablet, pausing occasionally to squint at the busted window or the empty hooks where her most expensive tools used to hang. Jo kept her arms crossed, resisting the urge to hover. When they reached the office, she motioned him inside. The space was small but tidy, or it had been before she stacked it with boxes of paperwork and receipts from the last forty-eight hours. She cleared two chairs, and they sat across from each other, the desk between them.

Albert adjusted his glasses and pulled up her file. “Okay,” he began, “I’ve reviewed your policy in detail, and I want to walkyou through what’s covered.” He cleared his throat. “And what isn’t.” Jo’s stomach clenched, but she kept her mouth shut and listened. Licking his lips, the man continued, tapping the tablet’s screen with a stylus. “Your general liability coverage is solid. That’ll take care of the broken window, the front door damage, and any structural repairs. But as for the stolen items...” He tapped a few more times, then looked at her. “Unfortunately, your current plan excludes theft coverage for non-fixed assets valued over five thousand dollars unless they were individually listed.”

Jo blinked. “Wait,” she said. “What?”

“Specialty tools, diagnostic equipment, aftermarket parts,” Albert explained. “Anything portable and over the coverage threshold needed to be itemized and separately insured. It’s a pretty common exclusion in small business plans.”

Feeling frustration starting to build, Jo’s jaw tightened. “Let me get this straight,” she said, working to keep her voice even. “You’re telling me I’ve been paying for insurance all this time, and it doesn’t cover half the stuff they took?”

Closing his tablet, Albert gave her a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s less than ideal, I know,” he answered. “But yes, that is the case.”

“No, it’s bullshit,” Jo said, her voice sharp. “I thought I was covered. I wasn’t trying to cut corners. I picked a plan that was supposed to protect this place.”

“I understand your frustration,” Albert said smoothly, like he’d said it a hundred times before. “But the policy is what it is. I’ll submit the report today, and you’ll get a formal letter with the final numbers by the end of the week.”

Jo stared at him for a long moment, then nodded stiffly. “Great,” she said through clenched teeth. “Thanks.”

Albert stood, offering his hand. “Best of luck, Ms. Fuller,” he said, but Jo didn’t take it. After an awkward moment, the manturned and left. Jo watched him walk out the door, then leaned back in her chair, rubbing both hands over her face. The silence in the office pressed in on her like a weight. She sat there for a few minutes, unmoving, until she heard the soft creak of the door and Mica’s voice.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Bad,” was all Jo could think to say. Mica stepped inside and hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Like ‘this sucks’ bad or ‘I need to sell a kidney’ bad?”

Jo let out a bitter laugh. “They’re covering the window,” she said with a sigh. “A few repairs. That’s about it. The tools, the parts, the diagnostic scanner? All gone. Not itemized. Not covered.”

Mica whistled. “Damn.”

“I’m gonna have to replace it all out of pocket,” Jo said, her voice flat. “That’s tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Do you have that kind of cash?” Mica asked, and Jo gave her a look. Mica nodded. “Right. Stupid question.”

“I might have to take out a loan,” Jo muttered, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “Or dip into the emergency fund. But that was supposed to be for payroll if things ever got tight and probably won’t even cover everything.”

Mica was quiet for a beat. “That sucks, Jo,” she said, taking off her ballcap and rubbing her close-cropped dark hair. “Totally not fair.”

Leaning forward, Jo rested her elbows on the desk. “I just…” she started, having to swallow hard to keep her stomach under control. “I thought I was doing everything right. I’ve been careful. I’ve held onto Mr. Diaz’s legacy. And now I get hit with this, and the insurance guy shrugs like it’s no big deal.”

“Well,” Mica said, “it is a big deal. But you don’t have to be alone in this.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to tell Evelyn?”

With a sigh, Jo hesitated. “Maybe,” she finally said. “But not yet.”