“Maybe she found out about me,” Warner said.
Dell turned his head, scrutinizing his guest for the first time since he let him in the front door. “Maybe. Or one of the others.”
“You think there are others?”
“It crossed my mind.”
They both turned their attention to the drinks in their hands. Minutes ticked by, then Dell said, “She said she loves me.”
“Who? Your mom?”
“No, you dickhead,” Dell sighed. “Caro. She said it when I was kind of out of it – at the hospital. Or I might have dreamed it.”
“And you're telling me this…why?”
“Haven't got a clue,” Dell said, draining the rest of his beer. He got up, returning with two more. He handed one off to Warner. “Something's not right at Hawkins.”
“Rumor is she's in over her head, management-wise, and financially.”
“I'd buy the financial part, but the other? No way. She runs a tight ship, and she's smart.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Don't know. A few weeks ago I wouldn't have cared. But now? Now I do. I'd like to see her make a go of it. She deserves a chance.”
“Lots of people disagree with you. Renfro included.”
“How did you end up driving for a bastard like him anyway?” Dell asked.
“I needed a ride. He offered. I never gave it much thought until the day Caudell died. This may sound weird, but when he told me Caudell was my dad, it was almost like he was amused that I was the one who caused the crash. I've turned it over in my head a million times and I can't make any sense of it. Everyone was crying, even the old-timers had tears in their eyes, but not Butch. I'd swear he was happy – delighted even, Caudell was dead.”
Dell squinted at the blank TV screen as if it were a portal into the past. “I thought Butch and Caudell were friends, but now I think about it, they never did hang out together.”
“I wouldn't read too much into it, Dell. Not many people like Butch Renfro, but he and Caudell had to have known each other pretty well. Hell, they raced against each other from the time they could both see over the top of a steering wheel.”
Dell filed the information away to be examined some other time. Not that he gave a damn if Caudell had any friends, or enemies, for that matter. He changed the subject. “Why doesn't Renfro support Caro? Why would he care if she makes a go of it or not?”
Warner shrugged. “No idea. I assumed he was one of those men who think women don't have brains.”
“Seems the racing world has a fair share of those,” Dell said.
“Here's another funny thing,” Warner said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He held his beer can with both hands. “I can't say he took much of an interest in Hawkins Racing when she first took over. Everyone was talking about it. You know how it was. I'm sure there was plenty of talk around Anderson's garage too.”
“Yeah, there was,” Dell agreed.
“Anyway, Butch didn't have much to say on the subject – not until she took you on. After that he started coming in the garage, ranting about how she was an idiot, didn't have any business running a race shop…that sort of thing. It struck me as odd when he suddenly had an opinion, and not a nice one at that.”
“You think it has something to do with me going to work for her?”
“Could be. He hates you.”
“Really?” Dell asked. “Any idea why that is?”
“Not a clue,” Warner answered. He stood. “Which way's the bathroom?”
Dell smiled. “Follow me,” he said. “I've got something to show you.”
“Can't it wait?” Warner asked as he fell in step behind Dell. “I gotta piss.”
“Nope.” Dell led Warner out the backdoor, across the patio and around the pool to where a wide swath of lawn stretched toward Lake Norman. He stopped in front of a wooden structure, too big to be a playhouse and too small to be a guesthouse. “Here we are,” he said.
Warner took in the neat little building, then asked, “Okay, I give up. Where, exactly, are we?”
“Well,” Dell said, pointing, “that's my dog house.”
“I don't see any dogs,” Warner said.
“I haven't gotten around to getting any yet.”
“Is there a reason you're showing me this?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his need to relieve himself.
“Over there.” Dell pointed to something glinting in the failing twilight.
“Is that a Darlington trophy?” Warner asked, moving to take a closer look.
“That's the Darlington trophy,” Dell said.
Warner stopped in front of the impressive trophy, now a lawn ornament atop a low concrete platform. “The one you won… what's it doing out here?”