Page 9 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“You’re joking?”

“Nope. After Ms. Dewhurst died, I started working on it. I had my doubts you’d be interested in such an old vehicle. But I’ve spent a year in my spare time rebuilding the engine and the carburetor,” Wally explained, swiping his hand lovingly across the hood. “She purrs like a kitten. Although she could probably use a new paint job.”

“I love her just the way she is,” Rowan cooed. “How much do you want for her?”

“You should test drive it first, don’t you think?”

Rowan scoffed at that. “This truck belonged to my grandfather. Gran wanted me to have it. How much?”

“All I need from the sale is what I put into it,” Wally replied, tossing out a figure.

“That’s more than reasonable.”

“Jim and Lynette Dewhurst were good people. Your grandfather always called her Vi.”

“I know. It broke her heart when he died. Suffered a heart attack. Went out to start the truck one morning around six-thirty and dropped dead next to it.”

Wally nodded. “I remember when it happened.”

“Six months after he died, she brought me here to live with her. Gran changed my life. Before that, it was chaotic and messy. I moved around a lot with my mother. Every time Mom hit a brick wall, she’d send me here to stay with them.”

Uncomfortable knowing those details, Wally changed the subject. “Ms. Dewhurst used to make batches of fudge every Christmas and deliver them around town in tins. She’d tie a big red bow on every tin, the old-fashioned kind of bow, not the kind you see that sticks like a sticky note.”

The memory made Rowan smile. “I started helping her deliver those tins. Delicious fudge. Somewhere, I bet there’s a recipe for it. I can give you cash on Monday. Or I could write you a check today drawn on the bank in town. There’s money in the account. You can go with me to the ATM and verify the balance if you want.”

“Not necessary. I know where you live. You can drive it off the lot today after we do the paperwork for insurance purposes. How does that sound?”

“It sounds too good to be true, too wonderful. Can you believe it? I finally have a car of my very own.”

Wally headed toward the office but stopped mid-stride. “You don’t own a car at all?”

“No. And I didn’t even come in here to buy one,” Rowan claimed, wiping tears out of her eyes. On impulse, she leaned in and hugged Wally. “You always were one of Gran’s favorites. She used to worry about you meeting the right person. I take it Lilly took care of that.”

“Oh, yeah. Big time.”

“Good for you. Thank you for keeping Granddad’s truck for her, for me.”

Gushing women were always a mystery to him. Wally spotted Lilly and let go of Rowan. “You do have a driver’s license, though, right?”

Rowan hooted with laughter and began to dig through her handbag for her wallet. “I promise I do. I use it mostly for ID. But I used to drive Gran’s Chevy in here to gas it up. Remember?”

“Yeah, but I never asked to see your driver’s license, now did I?” Wally pointed out with a laugh.

Rowan latched onto her wallet and finally pulled out the piece of plastic, holding it up for him to inspect. “Doesn’t expire for another three years. See?”

“Good enough for me. If anything breaks down on this puppy, call me. I don’t want anyone messing up my hard work.”

Delighted with Wally’s kindness, Rowan giggled. “No worries there. I know who the genius is behind working on forty-year-old cars. Your name should be in the Hall of Fame for restoring old cars.”

Lilly beamed with pride. “Wally’s the best. You’re going to love your new wheels.”

“Every time I drive it, I’ll think of Granddad. It’s got a lot of history behind it for me. Good memories. It’s like a piece of him will always be with me. I can’t wait to take it for a spin.”

“Then we’ll get you on the road,” Wally promised, ushering her into the office.

After getting the paperwork squared away and handing over the check, Rowan climbed into the driver’s seat. She turned the key and the engine roared to life, just like Wally promised. She put the truck into gear and drove out of the parking lot, making a left turn onto Main Street. With the windows down, the breeze blew through her hair, and the sun poured down on her face. Enjoying the experience, she lifted her chin and pulled into Drea’s Flowers.

Rowan had a stop to make.

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