Shifting Gears
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For A.B.
Chapter 1
“You still here?”
Grady Hart looked up at the sound of a voice in the doorway of his office. His sister’s fiancé, Ranger Colt, stood there frowning.
Grady grinned. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”
Ranger jingled the keys in his hand. “Yeah, but I’m heading home.”
“I’ll bet that’s only because Kerri threatened to boot you out of the house if you didn’t leave right this minute,” Grady countered.
“Fine. You got me.” Ranger shook his head, but he was no longer frowning. “I have a valid excuse, though. We put the tapered spacers in Lee’s truck and I had to finish up with the specs so we can complete the testing on time. Luckily, your sister is a patient woman.”
They both burst out laughing at that. Kerri was a lot of great things, but patient definitely wasn’t one of them. They ribbed her for it, but both men loved her immensely. Grady was glad his sister was with a guy who got her, and who happened to fit in so well with the rest of the family. Early last season, Kerri and Ranger had started out pretending to be engaged as part of a plan to strengthen her image in the press. But they’d ended up falling in love for real and now, just under a year after they first met, they were planning a wedding.
When Ranger had started shopping for the ring a couple of months ago so that he could propose to Kerri, Grady had gone along to help him. Grady wouldn’t have guessed it was possible, but tooling around to look at a bunch of ladies’ jewelry had brought him and Ranger even closer. In fact, it was during one of their excursions to a diamond broker that they had struck the deal that had changed Grady’s life: As soon as Hart Racing was no longer in the red, Grady could leave and focus solely on his own business, like he’d always wanted to.
“Speaking of my sister, how’s wedding planning going?” Grady asked.
Ranger groaned. “Not so great. Probably not a big surprise, but Kerri hates this kind of thing. Your mom wants a big wedding, though, and Kerri doesn’t want to disappoint her. Not to mention that my dad and mom are also gunning for some big to-do. I’m the only kid and all.” He huffed. “I told them they should have gone all out on their wedding—either of their weddings, in fact—but I guess it’s too late for that.”
Ranger’s parents had divorced three decades before, but after Ranger had come to work at Hart Racing, his father had started flirting with and then dating his mother again, and they’d gotten remarried a few months ago.
Ranger shrugged. “Anyway. I gotta run. Will you be here much longer?”
“Yeah.” Grady nodded slowly. “I need to queue up some stuff to start printing.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the large 3-D printer that sat on the other side of the room.
Ranger’s frown returned, and he stared at Grady in silence for a moment, worrying his fingers over his keys. That silence made Grady nervous. Ranger never hesitated to speak his mind, even if what he had to say wasn’t pretty. So whatever was on his mind that was giving him pause had to be something that Ranger thought Grady really wouldn’t want to hear.
“Just spit it out, Ranger,” he finally said, when the silence started getting too tense.
Ranger cracked a sheepish smile. “I’m that obvious, huh?” At Grady’s dark look, he nodded. “All right, you got me. Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate that you’re still acting as crew chief for Hart Racing while you’re starting up this new business of yours, but that wasn’t our deal. I told you that you could leave as soon as we were profitable, and we reached that point a month ago when the Natural Light contract kicked in. You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep up this pace. Fourteen hours a day, seven days a week is too much. I know I haven’t found a replacement yet, but that’s my problem now. Why are you bothering with Hart Racing anymore?”
Ranger looked at Grady expectantly, but Grady couldn’t respond right away. The words had hit him hard, like he suspected they would. Maybe, if he’d been anyone else, the question would have been straightforward. No big deal.
But to him, it was everything.
When Grady finally replied, his voice was a little scratchy. “I put ten years into this team—”
“I know, and Hart wouldn’t be as big of a success if it weren’t for you,” Ranger told him, but Grady put up a hand.
“Just let me finish, okay?”
Ranger nodded tightly. “Sorry, man.”
“My family was—is still—my life. They always come first. Always. When my dad needed help back in high school, I helped because he was my dad, first and foremost. Not because I wanted to be in racing. When he asked me to stay on after college, I did that because Kerri had started in the Indy circuit and she wanted someone she could trust to guide her through the races. I put a lot of stock in that trust because she’s my sister and I love her … even though she’s a mule-headed pain in the ass sometimes.”
Ranger snorted, but didn’t say anything.
“And when Dad died and Mom was grieving, I had two younger siblings to support and my dad’s legacy to save. And I did it. I’m not proud of how I almost lost it completely, but I gave it my all because my family matters. So now I can’t just walk away and leave y’all high and dry. Like you said, you don’t have a replacement crew chief yet. You don’t have anyone to assist you in managing the team. You’re already overworked and Kerri needs you at home, not hanging around the office.”
Ranger opened his mouth, but Grady leveled a hard look on his future brother-in-law. “If you lie and deny it, I will tell my sister.”
Ranger closed his mouth.
Grady couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped, but he was serious when he added, “Yeah, the long days are tough. Of course they are. But I’m not about to quit until I feel like my family is secure. And that includes you, Ranger. So a little discomfort on my end for a month or two is nothing. Not compared to what we’ve been through in the past.”
He meant it. He wasn’t a quitter.
But at the same time, Grady had already decided he wasn’t going to waste one more second in going after the dream of having his own business that wasn’t part of Hart Racing. As soon as Ranger had told him they were starting to turn profitable, he’d bought the printer and some design software he remembered using in college.
Sure, he didn’t have any customers—or even a first product—yet, but he was close. Even though it meant working like a dog for a while, he couldn’t see a better way to do things. And as soon as they found a replacement, he’d feel okay about leaving Hart Racing completely.
Ranger sighed. “Well, hell. I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew the first time I met you that you were a dedicated bastard.” He grinned at Grady, who let out a bark of laughter. “I still don’t think you should be working like this when the terms of our agreement have already been met, but I know who I’m dealing with. You Harts are nothing if not stubborn. Luckily, though, I just got off the phone with
a guy who’s coming in tomorrow to interview for the crew chief position.”
What? Grady felt himself snap back a bit. Not because Ranger was interviewing people for the position, but because even a few months ago, scheduling an interview would have been Grady’s job. He would have been in charge of screening the people who were going to be working so closely with his family—who would have the lives of his sister and brother in their hands. Ranger’s announcement brought home the reality that it was no longer his responsibility.
Hey. Come on. Calm down.
They’d just been talking about how he was pulling double time until the position could be filled. He should be grateful someone was going to relieve him of the burden of extra work soon, and he was.
He really was.
But another part of him felt strange. Like this truly was the end of the man he used to be.
Of course, despite his dedication, that man hadn’t been much good, anyway. He’d never loved racing cars like he loved building them. All the parts that went into high-performance machines—that was his true passion. He had to remember that.
Grady forced a smile to his face. “Hey, that’s great. Do you need me to talk to him?”
“Yeah, that would be helpful. He’ll be in around ten to meet the team.” Ranger shifted a bit. “It’s, uh, it’s Matt Fogerty.”
Fogerty?
Damn it. That guy was well-known for being an excellent crew chief … but also a total asshole. Getting along with others was not one of his strong suits. Fogerty wasn’t someone Grady would have let get near his siblings or his crew, out of sheer overprotectiveness.
But Ranger was running the show now. Grady had to step back and have a little faith.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from raising a brow and sounding a bit disbelieving when he asked, “Fogerty?”
Ranger sighed. “I know. I’ve heard the stories, too. But he comes highly recommended, despite the unpleasant side of his reputation, and I think he can help us take Hart Racing to the next level.”
At least Ranger had the guts to look Grady in the eye when he said the last part, and Grady couldn’t deny the truth. This past weekend, they’d barely squeaked in to a fifth-place finish only because another driver had made a critical mistake near the end of the race that had allowed Kerri to move up. Not because of any stellar coaching on Grady’s part.
He’d never been the kind of crew chief that could bring the team to the Intercomm Cup series—the highest level in racing. Kerri was still in the Diamond series, which was the mid-level of stock racing, but she was ready to move up next season. They needed someone who could make that happen.
That someone wasn’t Grady. It never would’ve been, either, even if he wasn’t leaving Hart Racing. So again he swallowed his pride, hoping his belly wouldn’t burst with everything he was sucking down, and simply nodded. “Okay. No problem. I’d like to meet Fogerty. But what about a team manager? Any progress on candidates for that position?”
Ranger shook his head. “It hasn’t been as high a priority. I’ve been able to handle a lot of it, and even though I got on your case about working too much, I really do appreciate that you’re still pitching in so much with the races. Especially with you trying to ramp up Carbon Works.”
Carbon Works was what Grady had named his new business, because he was focused on designing and building carbon fiber parts for anything that could use a boost in speed or portability. That included cars, trucks, snowmobiles, motorcycles … hell, even lawn mowers. As long as it had an engine and a body, he wanted to be a part of it.
He just didn’t want to race it.
He’d bought the big 3-D printer so he could use it to create the designs for his parts—actual, working parts like bolts and mufflers and spoilers that were “printed” out of carbon fiber. The machine had been staggeringly expensive, and he was determined to make sure he recouped that loss as soon as possible, so he’d been working round the clock to make it happen quickly.
But in the meantime, he wasn’t the only one working extra hours to pick up the slack. Ranger had a wedding to plan on top of everything else.
“Why don’t you let me take care of finding a team manager? If Fogerty ends up helping us out as crew chief, I’ll have a little more free time to get some people in for interviews.” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t want Ranger thinking he was trying to butt in where he no longer belonged. But this was still his family, damn it. And if Fogerty was coming on board, Grady wanted to get someone in place as team manager who was nothing like that asshole. Someone who would think of the crew as family, who would care about them as people, not just as part of the job.
Fortunately, Ranger blew out a relieved breath and nodded emphatically. “Yeah. That’d be a big help. Thanks, man. Meanwhile, I better get a move on.” Ranger lifted his keys and waved. “I’m even later now. Kerri’s probably fit to be tied.” But he grinned when he said it, and Grady laughed.
“Good luck. See you tomorrow.”
Ranger left, and the garage was suddenly, eerily quiet. Usually, Grady didn’t mind the heavy silence—it was great for concentration. But tonight, his mind kept wandering.
Once they hired a replacement crew chief and a team manager, Grady would be well and truly out of Hart Racing. Despite how much he hadn’t wanted to be so tied to the racing world, it would still feel … strange, to say the least.
Hell. Of course it would. He’d been with Hart Racing for as long as he could remember. Dad had started the team when Grady was six years old—twenty-five years ago—and it was the only place he’d ever worked. Despite the excitement he’d felt about his new venture, he had to admit he was worried, too. Not about the team, but about himself.
Kerri was a crackerjack racecar driver. Lee, their younger brother, was heading off to college soon, but he was still racing and would probably be as amazing as Kerri in another couple of years. Ranger had brought Hart Racing back from the brink of closure, and his involvement and can-do attitude—not to mention his relationship with Kerri—had brought the Hart family even closer in the process.
Grady had always wondered where he belonged amidst all that greatness. He practically had a heart attack every time he was on the track, he had a master’s in mechanical engineering that he’d never put to any use, and he’d nearly ruined the company within a year of Dad’s death.
No matter how excited he was about this opportunity, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he would fail at this new venture, too. What if he really was sub-par at everything? If this business didn’t go well, what would he have then?
Well. One thing for sure. He wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight.
He started up the print job, then gathered up his things, turning the question over in his mind the entire time. But in the end, there was really no answer. He’d already started down this path. Fogerty was coming in for an interview, Ranger had pretty much admitted that Hart Racing had outgrown Grady, anyway, and none of them were getting any younger …
There was no turning back now.
* * *
“I’m going over to Mrs. Hart’s, Momma.”
Annabelle Murray kissed her mother on the cheek, then left the kitchen and headed out to the front hallway to slip her shoes on. She took one last look in the mirror that hung over the narrow console table along one wall, crinkling her nose at the made-up face and styled hair that had her looking like a Miss North Carolina contestant. Put a little Vaseline on her teeth and some hairspray in her bright red locks and she’d be all set.
Who are you kidding? Donnie’s voice whispered from inside her head. What makes you think a pageant would want you?
She froze for a second, pink painted fingernails hovering over the pie she’d made earlier this morning, and tried to put the ugly thought out of her mind. But after so many years of being told by her own husband—ex-husband, now—that she was too insignificant, too untalented, too unwanted, it was hard to simply stop believing it.
>
If Donnie was right, she had nothing to offer a pageant.
You aren’t what I want anymore. I want a real woman. Not a nag in dirty coveralls.
Annabelle’s lungs hurt all of a sudden, and she had to consciously pull in a deep breath at the same time that she pushed his voice away. Donnie didn’t belong anywhere in her life anymore, and she hated the way he kept making an appearance in her thoughts.
Of course, it didn’t help that, in the ten days since she’d returned home, her own mother had continually reinforced all the things he used to say to her. Not specifically that she was insignificant. More like, Momma didn’t think Annabelle should try to be anything significant.
The clock in the den started to chime the hour, spurring her into action. Pie in hand, she opened the door and stepped into the warm August sunshine, shutting the bad memories and imaginary pageants and her mother’s demands inside.
Wow, that felt good.
Silence, sunshine, and solitude.
She took a moment to stand on the front stoop, basking in the rays and the feeling of freedom. How long had it been since she’d felt like this? The sun in Texas had been just as warm—warmer, really—but she’d rarely been able to enjoy it back in Nacogdoches. She was too busy trying to keep her and Donnie afloat.
What, you think you could have done better on your own? You’d be nothing without me, Annabelle. Nothing.
He’d told her that many times—usually any time he had a bottle in his hand, which had become a lot more frequent over the years.
Remembering that made the cloud come back on her mood, so she moved on, click-clicking down the front walk in those stupid kitten heels she’d bought to show the world that I’m trying, damn it, the swish of her skirt the only other sound, it felt like, in the entire neighborhood.
She guessed that nine in the morning on a Wednesday didn’t exactly get a lot of action in the suburban cul-de-sac where she’d grown up. Most of the residents were like her mom—older folks who’d moved into this neighborhood thirty years ago, raised their kids in the split-level ranches, and aged along with the street signs after their children left to do the exact same thing, just somewhere else.