“I've been told he's a decent man.”
“Terrible reputation.”
She laughed.
“Very.”
“And?”
She looked toward the mountains.
“And I'm not sure anyone would want to meet me if they knew everything about my life.”
I glanced up.
“Sounds like you're being a little hard on yourself.”
She smiled sadly.
“Perhaps.”
I finished cleaning the contacts and replacing the worn component with a suitable spare from my toolbox.
Then checked the connection.
“All right. Try the ignition.”
She stepped toward the driver's door.
Before entering, she turned.
“What if it doesn't start?”
I smiled.
“Then I'll keep working.”
She stared for a moment.
Then nodded.
She got behind the wheel.
Turned the key.
The engine coughed.
Hesitated.
Then came alive with a deep, wonderful rumble.
I grinned.
Nothing sounded quite like an old Pontiac V8 returning to life.
The woman stared through the windshield.
Then stepped out.
“You fixed it.”
I closed the toolbox.
“Looks that way.”
Her face transformed.
For the first time, she smiled without reservation.
“How much?”
“Nothing.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She looked toward my soaked boots.
My stained shirt.
The old pickup parked behind us.
Then back at me.
“You spent twenty minutes fixing my car.”
I shrugged.
“Didn't have anywhere better to be.”
Her eyebrow rose.
“Your blind date?”
I laughed.
“All right. I had somewhere better to be.”
She reached into her handbag.
Removed a small wallet.
Then held several bills toward me.
“Please.”
I shook my head.
“No, thank you.”
She stared.
“Why?”
I looked toward the traffic.
“Because my dad raised me to help when I can.”
For a moment, she didn't answer.
Then she whispered, “That must have been a good father.”
My chest tightened.
“He was.”
She noticed the change in my voice.
“I'm sorry.”
I nodded.
“Thanks.”
She looked toward the Firebird.
Then offered me a bottle of water from the car.
I accepted.
Our fingers touched briefly.
She looked into my eyes.
And for a moment, neither of us seemed eager to end the conversation.
Finally, she asked, “What should I call you?”
I almost answered.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Danielle.
I glanced at the screen.
The woman laughed.
“Your date?”
“My sister.”
She smiled.
“Then I suppose you should go.”
I nodded.
“Probably.”
She reached into her handbag and offered me a business card.
“In case anything else goes wrong with the car, or you want to send an invoice.”