I took it without reading the front.
“It's an old car. Something else will definitely go wrong.”
She laughed.
Then studied me for another second.
“I hope your date appreciates you.”
I felt my cheeks warm.
“Hope yours is better than you expect.”
She smiled.
Then stepped into the Firebird.
I watched her drive away along the wet mountain road.
Only after the taillights disappeared did I turn the card over.
There was a small silver emblem across the top.
Beneath it, embossed in elegant lettering, was a name.
Vanessa Monroe.
And below that:
Chief Executive Officer — Northstar Equity Partners.
I stared.
Vanessa.
The name Danielle had given me.
I looked toward the road.
Then at the card again.
My stomach tightened.
“No,” I whispered.
I took out my phone.
Called Danielle.
She answered immediately.
“Are you finally on your way?”
“Danielle.”
“What?”
“What's Vanessa's last name?”
There was silence.
Then she answered.
“Monroe. Why?”
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then Danielle laughed.
“Marcus?”
I stared toward the road.
“I think I just fixed my blind date's car.”
There was another moment of silence.
Then my sister burst out laughing so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
And I had no idea that the woman whose name was printed on that card controlled an investment company with a financial interest in the debt threatening my garage.
Or that the man trying to take the property was waiting for her to arrive at dinner.
By the time I reached Alder House, the restaurant's valet had already looked at my truck twice.
The building sat above the water, all glass walls, polished stone, and discreet lighting. A row of luxury vehicles stood near the entrance, each one clean enough to make me wonder whether the owners had ever driven through actual weather.
My pickup was covered in road grime.
One rear fender had been repaired with mismatched paint.
And the passenger door made a loud metallic click whenever I opened it.
I parked myself.
The valet looked relieved.
Inside, I discovered that the restaurant was somehow even more intimidating than its parking lot.
A pianist played near the windows.
Waiters moved between tables carrying plates arranged like miniature sculptures.
And people in expensive clothing spoke quietly about investments, travel, and places I'd never been.
I looked down at my gray jacket.