“You were entertaining.”
“I called the car garbage.”
“It looked like garbage.”
“I insulted your profession.”
“A little.”
“I accused you of running a scam.”
“That part was rude.”
She put one hand against his chest.
“And you still told me the truth.”
The Single Dad looked at her.
“Of course.”
She shook her head.
“You still don't understand how unusual that was.”
“Maybe your world was unusual.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled.
“Mine has its problems too.”
She looked around the garage.
The business had grown.
Not because she bought it.
He never allowed that.
The Foundation sent apprentice referrals.
His reputation from the prototype helped.
Collectors trusted him.
Restoration work increased.
He hired two technicians.
Then three.
The mortgage was current.
He did it himself.
She was proud of him.
Even when that pride irritated her because she had wanted to help sooner.
“Dad?”
His Daughter interrupted.
They looked over.
“You know she likes you because she stopped wearing orange heels here.”
The Woman stared.
“That is sacrifice.”
The Daughter nodded.
“I know.”
The Single Dad laughed.
The Woman looked toward the framed photograph near his desk.
His late wife.
It remained there.
It always would.
She never asked him to move it.
That was not her place.
Beside it sat a newer photograph.
The Single Dad.
His Daughter.
The Woman.
All three standing beside EXP-001 at the museum before the auction.
The Woman saw it every time she entered the garage.
She loved that both photographs could exist.
The Single Dad followed her eyes.
“She would have liked you.”
The Woman looked at him.
“You've said that before.”
“I mean it.”
“How can you know?”
“She hated arrogant people.”
The Woman looked offended.
“Then she would have hated me.”
“At first.”
She hit his arm.
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“She liked people who learned.”
The Woman looked down.
“So do I.”
The garage became quiet for a moment.
The Woman looked back at the chassis rubbing framed on the wall.
“You know what I still wonder?”
“What?”
“What would have happened if you took the hundred dollars?”
The Single Dad smiled.
“You'd have spent the next week bragging about how efficiently you cleared the estate.”
“Probably.”
“I would have had a prototype.”
“You would've sold it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I'd have spent all my money trying to restore it.”
She laughed.