He thought he was humiliating a poor woman.
He had no idea the bank envelope in her canvas bag could cost his dealership its biggest contract of the year.
Mary was sixty-four, sunburned, and dressed exactly as she had been that morning while inspecting irrigation lines at Carter Valley Farms.
Her faded cotton dress had a frayed hem. Red Texas dust clung to her flip-flops. The only jewelry on her hand was a plain wedding band.
She had parked her battered farm truck between two polished luxury sedans and walked into the county’s largest BMW dealership.
Every head turned.
