Brian stared at the floor.
I remembered her standing in my driveway less than twenty-four hours earlier.
The trip is booked.
There’s nothing left to discuss.
Apparently, there was quite a lot left to discuss.
“How much did you pay him?” I asked.
Michael hesitated, then named the amount.
It was more money than Dennis and I had spent on several of our early cars combined.
Vanessa grabbed Brian’s sleeve.
“Tell him the money’s committed.”
Michael remained calm.
“That isn’t relevant to ownership.”
“It is relevant if we can’t just hand it back.”
Brian hissed, “Vanessa.”
“No.
You said this was handled.”
I watched them turn on each other across the desk.
Yesterday they had stood together in my driveway while I stood alone.
Now the car was twenty feet behind me, gleaming beneath the showroom lights, and suddenly they were the ones without solid ground beneath them.
But I still hadn’t opened Dennis’s envelope.
Michael noticed.
“I think that belongs to you.”
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal.
Inside was a handwritten letter and a small brass key taped to a folded card.
I recognized the key immediately.
It matched one Dennis had carried on his ring for years.
I unfolded the letter.
Carol,
If you are reading this, somebody finally removed the panel behind the passenger seat.
I laughed once through the ache in my throat.
That sounded exactly like him.
Dennis never trusted obvious hiding places.
The letter continued.
I transferred the car to you because it was always ours, not mine.
You tolerated twenty years of greasy parts in the kitchen, missed Saturdays, and invoices I occasionally forgot to mention.
More importantly, every mile I imagined driving after retirement had you in the passenger seat.
I pressed my lips together.
Brian looked away.
Then I reached the next paragraph.
There is something else you need to know.
Brian asked me about the car twice after I got sick.
Both times he wanted to know what it was worth and whether it would pass through the estate.
I hope it was only curiosity.
But hope is not a plan.
So I put the title in your name and placed copies of the transfer documents where they could be found if anyone ever tried to move the car without you.
My eyes lifted slowly.
Brian had gone completely still.
“You asked him about it?” I said.
“Mom—”
“Twice?”
“He was sick.
We talked about financial things.”
“What financial things?”
“He wanted everything organized.”
“That isn’t what he wrote.”
Vanessa reached for the letter.
