Why the Man Who Trusts Everyone Spotted the Bad Repair First
She had the checkbook open on the kitchen table before I had the furnace door off, and she was not signing anything until she understood every word out of my mouth. It was the first real cold morning in October, the kind where the wind comes down Main Street out of the northwest and the whole town remembers it owns a furnace. Brick ranch on the west side of Kingfisher, built in the seventies, gas furnace in a hall closet with a return grille you could hear from the driveway. The homeowner was a woman in her seventies. Her husband had passed the winter before, and he had been the one who dealt…
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