Page 33 of Mustang Summer

“My mom did it to save money, and to keep people out of our business.She hated living in a small town.”

“Where does she live now?”

“Fargo.Says the anonymity is divine.”

“I can see that.Waite Park isn’t too big, but it’s not isolated like Moore.Where does your dad live?”

“With my mom.”He handed her a baggie of grapes and they ate in silence.

Once they finished, she started talking again.“Here’s the thing.I can’t really tell Mr.Blackwell why I can’t take the car.”

Brock nodded.She hadn’t told him yet, either.

“But, I can put in a good word for you, help you tell him why you want the car.”

He clamped his jaw down and glowered at the road.“Are you going to lie again?”

She made a disgusted sound.“Wow.Just wow.”

They rode in tense silence for several miles before she broke it.

“You’re right.I did lie and that’s why you need my help.The car represents Mr.Blackwell’s most treasured memories, so it’s like he’s giving away a part of him and his wife.He doesn’t want it commercialized, or to have the car sitting in some obscure museum where it never gets driven.He wants another young person to care for it and make the same kind of memories that are keeping Mr.Blackwell going after the death of his wife.”

The only thing Brock really comprehended from her diatribe was that he did need her help.Other than telling Blackwell he wanted to work on the car with his dad, which he’d already done, he didn’t know what else to do.

“Why did you lie to him?”Brock had finally gotten her to admit she’d been admiring his collection.With her brother’s legal troubles, she’d been afraid of getting into the same hot water.Of course, he could understand.

“Because we needed the car.My dad is shit at running his garage and it’s minutes away from the doors closing.Then I got there and…Blackwell was such an old hardass, but he loved his wife and he loves that car.I, uh,” her voice hitched, “lost my mom not too long ago and…I wish she would’ve had that.I couldn’t go through with it.”

“What’d your dad say?”He hoped she kept talking about her dad.He hoped she kept talking about herself because he wasn’t one to ask a ton of questions.People would share what they wanted if they wanted to.

To get to know people, Brock, you need take an interest in them.

He did.But they never seemed to know it.

“My dad doesn’t know.I’ll tell him I got turned down—after this meeting.So tell me about you and your dad and cars.”

“He liked Mustangs and we’d fix them up.”

She gave him a sidelong look that he caught out of the corner of his eye.

Eye contact.

This time, it wasn’t hard.Looking at Josie was another hobby he could throw himself into.

“Why Mustangs?”she asked.“Why work on cars instead of only farming?”

Brock didn’t have to think about any of the answers.“He called them a cross between art and automotive.Said they had the sleek lines of a lady and the power of her anger.”

Josie laughed and he smiled.

“The Shelby is the same year he was born, ’68, and he always talked about overhauling one.Dad farmed, he just wasn’t as into it like his brothers.He’s a mechanic now at a Ford garage and mentioned that he prefers the regular hours and not having to worry about the next hail storm ruining the crops.”

“And you?”

“I like farming.And I like being a mechanic.I get to do both.”

“Bill won’t let me get close to a car anymore, even though he taught me everything he knew.”

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