“Shucks!” Roger cussed softly to himself as coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug. He was running late, and waiting for coffee to perk before he headed to the shop had made him even later. A brown stain now adorned his white T-shirt… not a professional look. There was no time to change it now. The shop should have been opened fifteen minutes ago. Slowing his steps, he took a slurp from the mug to prevent further spillage.

His steps thudded on the narrow wooden stairs that led from the upstairs apartment Roger now called home. He stopped abruptly before entering the shop, hoping to slip in unnoticed. The door creaked open. Roger held his breath as he scanned the room. Perhaps Ruby had also been delayed and wouldn’t be there to witness his tardy arrival.

Startled, Ruby looked up from the clock she was working on. It had sounded as if someone had fallen down the stairs. With raised eyebrows, she took in the stained shirt and uncombed hair, unconsciously wrinkling her nose. Behind her, the wall of clocks ticked on in reproachful unison. Roger sighed. When Ruby’s head bent once again over the clock on her desk, he pulled a face at their stoic indifference before making his way to an empty stool.

“Ah, Ruby. Good morning!” He slurped from his mug before setting it down on the counter. “Sorry, I’m running a little late this morning. Thanks for opening the shop.”

Ruby snorted. As was her practice, she had arrived early, often beating Mr. Rutherford, and opened the shop herself. After yesterday’s debacle, she had seriously debated not returning at all.

When she had gotten home from work, she had sat at the kitchen table with a calculator and run the numbers again. But no matter how many times she checked, the result was always the same: there simply wasn’t enough money. She could barely cover her expenses, let alone save anything to start fresh elsewhere. And the truth was harder still… she had nowhere else to go.

If only she hadn’t—

Ruby cut the thought off sharply, refusing to follow it down that path. Instead, she thought of her mother’s silverware, the only valuables she had left. Selling it was an option, but it would take time. No, she decided, she would have to make the best of it. Until she was told outright that there was no place for her at the clock shop, she had no choice but to stay.

She glanced at Roger as he settled behind the counter, rearranging the pens with unnecessary precision. Clearly, the man needed help. She studied him while pretending to shine the case of a pocket watch. Beyond his habitual tardiness, Roger bore an uncanny resemblance to his late grandfather. Same bushy eyebrows, inset eyes, slightly hooked nose— even the moustache matched.

“Well,” Roger twirled a pen through his fingers with impressive speed, “what’s on the docket for today?” He really had no idea what actually happened in a clock shop.

Ruby couldn’t help herself. “Well, normally, we fix clocks. What you did yesterday—sending an unfixed clock home with a customer…” She shuddered. “Mr. Rutherford, rest his soul, would never approve.”

Roger smiled and twirled his moustache with great satisfaction. “Wasn’t it brilliant?”

Ruby’s jaw dropped. “How exactly is failing to fix the problem brilliant?”

Roger shook his head. “I did fix the problem. The problem was that you couldn’t fix the clock. But thanks to my quick thinking—and a lucky guess—we had another satisfied customer.”

“That’s your business strategy? Lucky guesses?” Ruby stared at him. “Do you know anything about clockwork?”

Roger’s smile faded as his mind supplied the truth. His last job had been in door-to-door vacuum sales. “I was in sales, but the company was struggling… hard times in the economy.” He conveniently left out the real reason he’d been let go. “I know sales. How hard can it be to learn clocks?”

Ruby narrowed her eyes. “How did you know about the argument—and Mr. Yamada’s son?”

Roger smiled easily. “It just came to me. I held the clock, smelled burnt potatoes, and suddenly it all made sense.”

“Burnt potatoes? Another random fact.”

“Maybe that’s what was for lunch.” Roger flicked the pen into the air and caught it. “Like I said, lucky guess. Bottom line… I fixed your problem for you.”

Ruby shrugged. Who was she to argue? He was the owner now, her boss. She wasn’t about to do anything extra. She’d be out of here as soon as she managed to collect the money from the silver.

“The Reverend Frost is coming by to pick up his pocket watch. The hairspring coils were sticking, disrupting oscillation.” At Roger’s blank look, she tried again. “Movement stoppage due to a mainspring fault.”

Roger shook his head.

“It kept stopping.”

“Right.” Roger nodded, feigning knowledge. “Let me see it.” He examined the watch, carelessly opening and closing the latch.

Ruby reached out hesitantly. “You might want to be careful… the Reverend treats it like a real treasure.”

Roger tossed it in the air and caught it easily. “Don’t worry.” He rubbed the back of the watch with his thumb and got a faraway look in his eyes. “This was a gift from the love of his life, Susan.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Right. And how would you know that?” Scorn dripped from her words. “Besides, his wife’s name is Debbie.”

“Says so right here.” He read the inscription on the back. “‘Always yours, Susan.’ Well, this is awkward. Maybe that was his first wife.”

Ruby froze. She’d been so focused on the workings of the watch she hadn’t bothered to read the inscription. “I go to his church and know his wife quite well. He’s never been married before.” She shook her head. “You need to mind your own business. And as of yesterday, your business is fixing people’s clocks—not nosing about their past lives. Fixing clocks is a matter of precision and logic. It has nothing to do with people’s circumstances. You could really damage the Reverend’s reputation.”

Roger shook his head. “I’m not the one carrying around a pocket watch from a former lover. I bet there’s a story behind every one of these clocks, if you take the time to listen.” He stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “A story just waiting to be told—to give meaning to why we’re here in the first place.”

“The story is irrelevant. The job is to fix the watch,” Ruby argued.

The bell chimed on the front door, announcing the arrival of a tall thin man with a clerical collar squeezing his Adam’s apple.

“Good morning, Ruby. Why, who do we have here? A newcomer to town?” Reverend Frost raised his white bushy eyebrows in Roger’s direction.

Roger smiled charmingly. “Roger Rutherford the Third. I am the proud new owner of Second Hand Repairs.” He stuck out his hand in greeting. “You must be Reverend Frost.”

Reverend Frost nodded. “The new owner?” He looked at Ruby inquisitively, who couldn’t stop her shoulders from dropping as colour creeped into her face. His boldness stung.

“We have your pocket watch,” Roger interrupted. “There was a problem with the hairspring coils, but not to worry—we have it in tip-top shape. Looks old. Is it very special to you?” Roger slurped from his mug loudly.

The Reverend nodded. “It is. It was a gift from long ago. How much do I owe you?” Ruby rang up the repair, cheeks burning with anger.

Roger smiled easily. “Yes, I saw the inscription. Susan is one lucky lady. How long have you been married?” Ruby gasped at his brazen audacity.

“Well, aren’t you observant.” The Reverend’s smile faltered as he turned to look more closely at Roger. “No, my wife’s name is Debbie. Susan was someone else entirely.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s a bit of a story—not likely one you’re interested in hearing.”

“Of course, Reverend—”

“Oh, we’ve got time.” Roger interrupted again, finishing his coffee and setting it down with a thud. Ruby shook her head apologetically.

The Reverend looked thoughtfully from Roger to Ruby before smiling knowingly. “Well, to make a long story short, at one time I desperately wanted Susan to be my wife.” Ruby gasped. “Oh, it’s not a secret, really—it happened a long time ago. We were high school sweethearts. Young and in love. We were engaged, you know, but…” He shrugged. “She left me at the altar.”

Ruby felt the colour rush to her face. This was really none of their business.

The Reverend continued, his mind in the past. “Oh, it was all wrong from the start. And I knew it. And she knew it. But I refused to see it, even when she tried to tell me. I knew I was going to be a minister, but she was meant for something very different than being a minister’s wife. She had stars in her eyes and knew she was going to make it big in show business. She left town after that. I was heartbroken for a while, naturally. But soon it became clear it would have been a disaster. And God brought along someone who was exactly what I needed.”

“I kept this watch to remind myself that when a moment seems all wrong, it’s really that moment that makes everything right.” His eyes rested on Ruby’s angry face. “You’d do well to remember that, Ruby.”

The shop filled with the noise of the hour. When the cacophony died down, Reverend Frost snapped the watch shut and held it in the air. “Perfect! Thank you, Ruby.” He slipped it inside his coat. “I hope to see you in church, young man.”

Once again, the bell jingled.

Ruby let out the breath she had been holding. “I told you, the story is irrelevant.” Her words were clipped.

Roger chuckled and nodded. “But there was a story.”

In the silence that followed, both found themselves pondering the Reverend’s words. Could this moment—where everything felt wrong—really be the step that made it all right?