“They see a nice house and suddenly every estimate doubles.”
The Single Dad studied her.
Then nodded once.
“Fair enough.”
That answer seemed to bother her more than an argument would have.
He returned to the car.
The Woman followed.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I don't want a restoration assessment.”
“I’m not giving one.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Making sure you understand what you're selling me for a hundred dollars.”
She laughed.
“I’m not selling it.”
“You just offered to pay me to take it.”
“Fine.”
She waved a hand.
“Then technically I’m giving it to you.”
“Even more reason to check.”
The Woman removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were sharp.
Beautiful.
And suddenly irritated.
“Do you know how much my time is worth?”
The Single Dad looked at her.
“No.”
“A lot more than this car.”
He nodded toward the house.
“Then go inside.”
She stared at him.
He continued calmly.
“I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
The Woman looked genuinely offended.
Then amused.
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to leave you alone with the thing I’m paying you to remove?”
“You don't need to pay me anything yet.”
She slowly put the sunglasses back on.
“You’re strange.”
“So my daughter says.”
The Woman paused.
“You have a daughter?”
“Nine.”
“Where’s her mother?”
The Single Dad's hand stopped.
The Woman recognized the mistake immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
He resumed working.
“She died four years ago.”
“I shouldn't have asked.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it wasn't.”
He glanced at her.
For the first time since arriving, her expression had lost the mocking edge.
Then her phone rang.
The Woman looked at the screen.
“Excuse me.”
She walked toward the front steps.
The Single Dad returned to the car.
He opened the driver's door carefully.
It resisted.
He lifted slightly while pulling.
The hinge groaned.
The interior was mostly complete.
That surprised him.
Seats cracked but original.
Steering wheel thin and enormous.
Old gauges.
No aftermarket stereo.
No modern wiring hanging beneath the dashboard.
The car had not been modified much.
That alone was unusual.
Most forgotten muscle cars had lived several lives.
Teenagers modified them.
Racers stripped them.
Owners swapped engines.
Someone changed wheels.
Someone installed speakers.
Someone cut holes.
This car seemed untouched.
Neglected, yes.
But preserved accidentally.