Her eyes narrowed.
“You knew.”
“What?”
“You knew before you got here.”
“No.”
“You saw the address.”
“You knew who my father was.”
“I had no idea who your father was.”
“You recognized the car.”
“I recognized something unusual after looking at it.”
The Woman stood.
Her suspicion returned quickly.
“Maybe this is the scam.”
“What scam?”
“You convince me the car is rare.”
“Then what?”
“You offer to buy it before I verify.”
The Single Dad stared.
“You offered it to me.”
“That was before.”
“Exactly.”
He held out the hundred-dollar bills she had tried to give him earlier.
She had apparently placed them on the roof without him noticing.
He put them in her hand.
“I’m not taking the car.”
The Woman looked at the money.
“You don't want it?”
“If this is real?”
He laughed.
“Of course I want it.”
“That doesn't mean I’m taking it.”
She stared at him.
The Single Dad continued.
“You need an independent appraiser.”
“Not someone I recommend unless you verify them yourself.”
“You need documentation.”
“Ownership history.”
“Factory records.”
“Engine numbers.”
“Everything.”
She glanced toward the car.
“And if it really is worth millions?”
“Then congratulations.”
He picked up his tool bag.
The Woman looked genuinely confused.
“You're leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“You hired me to remove junk.”
“This isn't junk.”
“So the job changed.”
She looked at him.
“Wait.”
The Single Dad stopped.
The Woman held the old document.
“You started this.”
“Technically your father did.”
“You know what I mean.”
He waited.
“I need someone who understands what I’m looking at.”
“Hire an appraiser.”
“I don't trust appraisers.”
“You don't trust contractors either.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
The Single Dad almost smiled.
The Woman stepped closer.
“I’ll pay you.”
“For what?”
“To inspect it.”
“Document everything.”
“Tell me whether this is real.”
He considered.
“I’m not a certified appraiser.”
“I didn't ask you to set the value.”
“I’m asking you to tell me what I have.”
The Single Dad looked at the prototype.
Then at the Woman.
“My shop rate applies.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You're negotiating now?”
“No.”
“It’s posted on my wall.”
“You can take it or leave it.”
She stared.