“Are you refusing to help me?” she asked.
Grant leaned back and folded his arms.
“I’m saving both of us time.”
Mary nodded once.
She did not argue.
She did not reach for the bank documents in her bag.
She simply took out her phone, typed one short message, and walked toward the door.
Grant called after her, “Careful with the display cars. Fingerprints are expensive.”
The other salesmen laughed again.
Mary paused with her hand on the glass door. For half a second, Grant seemed to expect anger.
Instead, she turned and studied the dealership’s name above his desk—the same dealership that had spent six months trying to win the vehicle and service account for Carter Valley Farms.
Then she left.
Across town stood a smaller BMW dealership with an older sign and half the showroom space.
Mary had barely stepped inside when a young salesperson named Evan Miller approached.
