He did.
When the check arrived, Claire reached for it.
Daniel moved first.
She raised an eyebrow.
“This is exactly the kind of gender ritual I usually hate.”
“I stopped in a snowstorm, repaired your car, discovered our fathers had been secretly conspiring for twenty-seven years, and survived dinner in work boots.”
He took the check.
“I earned this one.”
Claire surrendered.
Outside, the snow had slowed.
They stood beneath the lodge lights.
Neither seemed ready to leave.
Daniel said:
“I have to ask something.”
“Okay.”
“Do you think Paige knew about the envelope?”
Claire thought.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She would never trust a plan involving mechanical failure.”
“Your father may have told her father only about us.”
“And she connected Renee somehow.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“You think the sisters independently conspired?”
“My friend and your sister.”
“Yes.”
“Almost certainly.”
He smiled.
“Terrifying.”
Claire looked toward the parking lot.
“I want to know the rest.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She laughed.
“You have somewhere to be?”
“Noah.”
“Right.”
“He’s staying with Renee.”
“Does he know you’re on a date?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What does that mean?”
“He will interrogate me.”
Claire smiled.
“What will you tell him?”
Daniel looked at her.
“That I met someone interesting.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Interesting?”
“Would you prefer elegant?”
“Sounds rehearsed.”
“Intimidating?”
“Accurate.”
He smiled.
“Someone I want to see again.”
There.
Claire felt a strange softness in her chest.
She looked at him.
“What if our fathers are somehow manipulating us from beyond the grave?”
“Then they’ve become extremely sophisticated.”
“Should we resist on principle?”
Daniel thought.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m too old to let dead men ruin a good date.”
Claire laughed.
He stepped closer.
Not too close.
“Can I call you?”
“You already have my number.”
“Technically my sister does.”
Claire held out her phone.
Daniel entered his contact.
She looked.
DANIEL — SNOW MECHANIC.
He saw.
“Really?”
“Temporary.”
“What am I in yours?”
He typed.
CLAIRE — BROKEN CADILLAC.
She laughed.
“Fair.”
They separated without kissing.
Claire liked that.
No rushed cinematic moment.
No false destiny.
Just:
“Drive safe.”
“You too.”
“Text when you’re home.”
“You sound like my father.”
“Apparently our families have a pattern.”
Claire drove home.
The Cadillac did not fail.
At 11:42 she received a message.