The shop called eventually, after the final restorations were complete. “She’s roadworthy for long distance,” Ken said. “Not pretty yet, but safe— brakes, fluids, belts, and tires. Bodywork can wait.” Margaret signed the invoice, heart drumming. The Baby Benz idled smoothly, a soft mechanical purr, carrying the unanswered story of David.
Margaret packed the envelope, a thermos of coffee, and the cash Evelyn had given her. At dawn, she steered the Baby Benz toward the border. The highway stretched flat and gray, her hands damp on the wheel. She rehearsed answers to questions no one might even ask.