I laughed. “Of course he did. But that’s not you. I suppose a car like this would suit you—a simple Mercedes or a BMW or something in a luxury class. But I don’t feel like that’s it for some reason. Am I wrong?”
He shook his head. “You’re warm…”
I smiled. “I prefer to be called hot, but I’ll take it. Anyway, I think your car wouldn’t be just for driving around town. You use this Town Car for that. So whatever you drive probably has some meaning.” I paused. “Oh, I know! It’s a classic car.”
“Keep going…”
I rubbed my hands together. “I don’t know that much about cars, so I’m not sure I can tell you the make and model. But I can see you in one of those cars in old movies, the ones people take out for a Sunday drive in California. You know, the woman wears big sunglasses and a pretty scarf around her neck and looks like a celebrity. Maybe it’s a convertible. Probably a dark color with a saddle brown leather interior.”
Merrick shifted to one side and dug his cell from his pocket. He punched some keys and turned the phone to me. “Something like this?”
I pointed to his cell. “Exactly like that. What kind of a car is that?”
“A 1957 Jaguar convertible.”
“Okay. That’s what kind of car I can see you in.”
He shook his head. “That’s an actual picture of my car. I keep it in a garage not too far from the office.”
My eyes widened. “No way.”
He went to his photo app and swiped through a bunch of pictures before turning his cell to me again. The picture was black and white, but it looked like the same type of car. Two men stood proudly in front of it with their arms folded.
“That’s my grandfather and his buddy.”
I took the phone from his hand. “Is that Kitty’s Redmond?”
“It is. I guess she’s mentioned him?”
“Only in every other sentence.”
“My grandfather bought the car for my grandmother as a wedding gift. It was used and a little beat up, but she loved it. He passed away pretty young, and she didn’t have a garage. Back then they used actual steel in cars, so it got rusted over the years. A guy knocked on her door one day thirty years ago and offered her more than it was worth, so she sold it. Coincidentally, that was where she got the money she put down on the first women’s shelter she opened. She claims a few weeks earlier, she’d decided that was what she wanted to do with the next chapter of her life, so she wrote about her plans in a journal—even though she had no idea how she could afford it.” Merrick shook his head. “The woman is as no-bullshit as they come, but she believes she ‘manifested’ that guy knocking on her door to make it happen.”
I smiled. “I’ve heard the manifest your destiny speech a time or two from Kitty myself.”
Merrick chuckled. “I’m sure you have. Anyway, I only knew about the car because of the picture I just showed you and my grandmother talking about it. I never actually saw it.”
He stared at the photo a moment. “Ten years ago, when I got my first big bonus payout, I went to a car swap. I wasn’t really looking for anything, but I figured I’d see if something caught my eye. There was a 1957 Jaguar convertible on display, and the thing was sparkling. It looked brand new. I tried to buy it, but it was already sold. The seller was a nice guy, though, and we got to talking. He mentioned he had a friend who had the same car, though it wasn’t in nearly as good of shape, so I’d need to have it restored myself. A couple of weeks later, I went to go see it.” He shook his head. “The thing didn’t need a little work; it was a disaster. I was about to say I wasn’t interested when the guy mentioned he’d gotten it from a woman in Atlanta almost two decades ago.”