"And Doc?"
"Yeah?"
"Get some sleep."
Doc laughed.
"I'll try."
Hank shook his head.
"That's not a promise I believe."
The first full-scale technical evaluation did not go well.
The vehicle looked impressive.
Its black bodywork had begun taking shape, the front end carried the appearance of a classic Harley-Davidson, and the low passenger platform had been fitted with temporary supports for testing. But appearance mattered far less than performance.
During evaluation without Ellie present, the team identified movement and vibration characteristics they weren't satisfied with. The engineer also raised concerns about how the proposed seating arrangement would behave under certain conditions.
Virginia stopped the test.
Doc looked disappointed.
"Can we adjust it?"
"Possibly."
"How long?"
"I don't know yet."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Is it fixable?"
Virginia removed her glasses.
"We don't have enough information to say."
Doc looked toward the vehicle.
For four months, he had imagined the moment when Ellie would finally see it.
Now he was staring at another delay.
Virginia studied him.
"Do you remember what I told you on the first day?"
Doc sighed.
"Don't confuse enthusiasm with engineering."
"Exactly."
She pointed toward the passenger area.
"That little girl trusts the adults around her to make good decisions. We don't get to disappoint her on safety because we're tired of waiting."
Doc looked down.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
Virginia's expression softened.
"We've made progress. We just aren't finished."
Doc walked toward the front of the vehicle.
He placed one hand on the black fuel tank.
For a moment, he imagined Sophie's voice.
Go on, Daddy.
He closed his eyes.
Then he turned toward the team.
"All right. What do we need to review?"
The work continued.
A few days later, Doc received an unexpected telephone call.
It was from his former wife, Anne.
They spoke occasionally, usually on Sophie's birthday or around the anniversary of her death. Their conversations were kind but often brief, filled with the uncomfortable awareness of everything they had once shared and could no longer change.
Anne had heard about the project through Hank's wife.
She asked whether it was true.
Doc hesitated.
"Yeah."
"For a little girl?"
"Six years old."
There was a pause.
"Is she sick?"
Doc looked toward the workshop.
"Very."
Anne was quiet.
Then she asked, "Does she remind you of Sophie?"