She said it was a capital improvement.
He told her to leave.
She did not.
Cooper Automotive became busy after word spread that James had revived the Vaughn Ferrari.
He refused interviews.
Refused investors.
Refused expansion offers.
He hired one apprentice.
That was enough.
Katherine respected it.
Success did not have to become scale.
That was another lesson her father never taught her.
One Saturday afternoon, Katherine arrived wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt.
James looked suspicious.
“Who are you?”
She kissed him.
“Katherine.”
“No white blouse?”
“No heels?”
“Disappointed?”
“Deeply.”
She leaned against workbench.
“Olivia?”
“Robotics competition.”
“Winning?”
“Obviously.”
Katherine looked toward the Ferrari parked in the bay.
“We should drive.”
James groaned.
“You drive like consequences are tax deductible.”
“Get in.”
They drove out of Cedar Falls toward the hills.
Red Ferrari.
Windows down.
Engine perfect.
At a quiet overlook, Katherine stopped.
James looked at her.
“What?”
She handed him a small box.
He stared.
“If that's a watch, I'm leaving.”
“Open it.”
Inside was not a watch.
A brass key.
Old.
James looked up.
Katherine smiled.
“I had copies made.”
“Why give me original?”
“Because you found it.”
“That belongs to you.”
“It belongs to the story.”
He turned it in his palm.
“Katherine.”
She looked toward valley.
“My father thought the Ferrari would force me to slow down.”
“He was right.”
“Unfortunately.”
James smiled.
She continued:
“You did too.”
He leaned toward her.
“I'm usually right.”
“Don't ruin it.”
He kissed her.
This time neither hurried.
When they separated, James looked at the road.
“Your dad would've hated me.”
Katherine laughed.
“Absolutely.”
“Good.”
“He would have respected you eventually.”
“Worse.”
Katherine rested her head against seat.
“He loved people he couldn't control.”
“That explains you.”
She hit his arm.
James laughed.
Then grew quiet.
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day.”
“Less painfully?”
“Different.”
She looked at the Ferrari steering wheel.
“I used to think keeping this car was keeping him.”
“Now?”
“Now it's mine.”
James nodded.
That was healing.
Not forgetting.
Ownership of memory.
They drove home after sunset.
The Ferrari's headlights cut through the rural road.
James listened to engine.
Katherine watched road.
For once, nobody was chasing anything.
No board deadlines.
No sabotage.
No hidden keys.
No CFO.
No betrayal.
Just speed chosen for joy rather than escape.
When they reached the garage, Olivia was waiting.
She had won second place.