The Single Dad finally spoke.
“Like seventy-five-thousand-dollar stories?”
The Collector looked at him.
“I’m offering certainty.”
The Single Dad nodded toward the chassis.
“For EXP-001?”
Silence.
The Woman watched the Collector.
His face did not change enough.
But it changed.
The Collector looked at the Single Dad carefully.
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
The Collector turned toward the Woman.
“I’d strongly advise you not to let speculation inflate expectations.”
The Woman smiled.
“Yesterday I offered him a hundred dollars to take the car.”
The Collector blinked.
She continued.
“He refused.”
The Collector looked at the Single Dad again.
For the first time, with respect.
Or irritation.
Possibly both.
The Woman said:
“You knew where the chassis plate was before he told you.”
The Collector hesitated.
“I know these cars.”
“Exactly.”
She stepped closer.
“So let's stop pretending.”
The Collector exhaled.
“All right.”
He looked toward the prototype.
“If the plate is authentic, the car is significant.”
“How significant?”
“Potentially very.”
The Woman smiled coldly.
“And your first offer was seventy-five thousand.”
“Because significance does not guarantee clear title.”
“Or provenance.”
“Or authenticity.”
The Single Dad nodded.
“That part is fair.”
The Collector looked surprised.
The Single Dad continued.
“The offer isn't.”
The Woman asked:
“What would you pay if everything checks out?”
The Collector's tone changed.
“One million.”
The driveway went quiet.
Yesterday, one hundred dollars.
Today, one million.
The Woman looked toward the rust.
The Collector continued.
“Immediate wire transfer.”
“No auction fees.”
“No restoration expense.”
“No risk.”
The Woman asked:
“Why the urgency?”
“No urgency.”
“Then the offer will be there in thirty days.”
The Collector paused.
“Market interest changes.”
“In thirty days?”
“Sometimes.”
The Single Dad studied him.
The Collector did not want this car researched publicly.
That was obvious.
The question was why.
The Woman noticed the same thing.
“No.”
The Collector looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not selling today.”
“You should think carefully.”
“I just did.”
He smiled thinly.
“You might discover the story isn't as valuable as you hope.”
The Woman picked up her orange handbag.
“And you might discover I don't like being treated like an idiot.”
The Collector left seven minutes later.