The man smiled, but his eyes seemed sad. “Hang on. Let me get the key.”
Mr. Peters returned and took his time leading us to the side of the house. He held out a remote and the garage door slowly opened.
I couldn’t see what was under the cover. The old man shuffled over to the rear of the garage and lifted a corner of the giant stretch of gray cloth.
“Let me help.” Zack hurried over to the other side and, inch by inch, they unveiled a silver convertible Mustang.
There had to be something really wrong with it, because it was too pretty to be within my budget. Freakishly high miles or a missing engine?
Mr. Peters popped the hood and disappeared behind it with Zack, who fired off questions. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I amused myself by examining the body. The top was already down and I could readily see the interior, which appeared clean. Circling the car, I noted the shiny rims and glossy paint. In the bright morning sunshine, I saw a sprinkling of chips in the paint. My Taurus was riddled with that sort of thing, most likely caused by spraying gravel. You couldn’t miss them. On the Mustang though, it wasn’t noticeable unless you examined it closely.
“What year is this?” I asked.
Zack peeked out from behind the hood. “It’s five-years-old.” He vanished again.
I slid behind the driver’s seat and poked around. It had forty-two thousand miles on it. Working my way back to the front and under the hood, I listened as Zack asked about the engine modifications and horsepower. Mr. Peters replied, but his words meant nothing to me. Zack seemed impressed, nodding and raising his brows.
“Can we take it out? We’d like to drive it to make sure she likes it. Then me, to see if it’s sound.” He gazed down at the engine. “Although I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“Why are you selling it?” I asked.
“It was my son’s. He loved this car.” The man’s eyes moistened, his gaze dropping to the concrete floor of the garage, chin quivering. “He doesn’t need it anymore.”
Zack just stared without speaking.
His son must have died. Or something else terrible. How awful.
“No need to look at me like that, young lady. It’s not all bad. My son left me two wonderful grandchildren.” Mr. Peters patted my hand, then slowly moved several feet to the passenger side and got in. “C’mon. Let’s take this baby for a spin.”
I lagged behind, tugging on Zack’s arm. “How much is this thing?” I hissed.
“You’d been saving up for a car before your parents chipped in, right? Use some of that.”
I gasped. “What? You dragged me out here for a car over fifteen?”
“Sshh. He’s selling it for exactly fifteen, but I know some of your money is going to the shop. I was hoping to negotiate, but now I know something happened to his son, it would feel wrong.” He nodded toward the driver’s side. “Come on. You’re up first.”
Damn. Even if I liked it, I couldn’t buy it. Unable to resist, I climbed in anyway.
The car rode like a dream and the longer I drove it, the easier I imagined owning it. My hair whipping around and tickling my face didn’t bother me at all, like I’d thought it would. In fact, it made me feel free, like I was running through the woods.
I slowed to a stop at a red light, noting the smooth braking. When it was green, I gunned the engine and watched in the rearview mirror as Zack’s head snapped back. “Sorry,” I told Mr. Peters who sat to my right.
He chuckled. “You like it?”
“Yeah, I do.” I sighed and pulled over, then switched places with Zack.
His test drive was shorter than mine, maybe because he’d worked on and driven enough cars to know what to be wary of. He gingerly backed into the old man’s garage and we got out.
At the front steps of the house, Zack asked Mr. Peters, “Do you mind if we consult for a minute?”
“No problem. Holler when you’re ready.” He leisurely made his way back to the car, opened the passenger side and got in.
“Seems like a fair deal considering its condition and low mileage. What do you think?” Zack whispered when we’d gotten a few feet away, his expression guarded.
I glanced over at the silver beauty and gnawed on my thumb nail. “I’m a little nervous about going over my budget. My parents made me promise not to tap into my savings. I can’t break my word.” This was so wrong. I finally found a car I wanted and it wasn’t buyable.
Mr. Peters climbed out of the Mustang and walked the few feet to stand in front of us. “When you get older, things start to go. Eyesight’s not so good anymore. Don’t have the stamina I had at Zack’s age.” He glanced at Zack, then me. “But my hearing’s good. What’s your budget, dear?”