Her mother had loved wearing headbands.
She had done the same when Nora was little.
For a moment, Nora imagined her mother's voice.
Tell the truth, darling. Even when your voice shakes.
She picked up the clutch.
Then left.
The garage was busy when she arrived.
An old truck stood in one bay.
A vintage motorcycle occupied the other.
Daniel was kneeling beside the burgundy bike Martin had lent her, checking a troublesome engine connection that had begun failing again.
He wore the familiar charcoal-gray henley shirt and jeans.
His sleeves were pushed to his forearms.
His hair was slightly disordered.
A dark smudge of grease crossed his jaw.
Nora stopped near the entrance.
He looked up.
His expression softened immediately.
"Well."
She smiled nervously.
"Hello."
He stood.
Then looked at her outfit.
For a moment, he seemed almost embarrassed.
"You look wonderful."
Nora felt her cheeks warm.
"Thank you."
He glanced toward his own clothes.
"Afraid I didn't get the formal dress code."
She laughed softly.
"I wasn't expecting you to."
He wiped his hands.
"What brings you by?"
Nora looked toward the motorcycle.
"Martin said it was acting up again."
Daniel nodded.
"Already found the problem. I've been checking it."
She swallowed.
"Daniel, there's something I need to tell you."
His expression changed.
"Sounds serious."
"It is."
He glanced toward the office.
"Want to sit down?"
She nodded.
"Please."
He started toward the doorway.
Then Ethan called from the other bay.
"Dan, can you look at this fitting first?"
Daniel paused.
"One second."
Nora watched him return to the motorcycle.
He crouched.
Picked up a wrench.
And reached beneath the engine.
She stood nearby, clutching her handbag.
For several seconds, she rehearsed the opening sentence.
My name is Nora Whitfield.
We knew each other as children.
I never forgot you.
Daniel tightened the fitting.
Then he stopped.
His expression changed.
He blinked.
Pressed one hand against the motorcycle frame.
And looked toward the floor.
Nora noticed immediately.
"Daniel?"
He did not answer.
His grip loosened.
The wrench slipped from his fingers.
It struck the concrete floor.
And the garage seemed to tilt around him.
Nora dropped her clutch.
"Daniel!"
He tried to stand.
His knees buckled.
She lunged forward, pushed a rolling toolbox out of the way, and caught him beneath the shoulders as he collapsed.
"Daniel, look at me!"
His face was pale.