Page 130 of Keepsake
I gave her a kiss—my first of the evening. “I won’t freak out. But, why? Is it not my style, or something?”
She chewed her lip. “No, it is. You’ll see.”
“You could give me a clue.” I rubbed the towel through my hair.
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m not spoiling it.” She took a sip of our shared beer and then handed it back to me, readying herself to walk back out of the bathroom.
Then I had an alarming idea. “Where are your parents staying tonight?” Our little house wouldn’t really accommodate guests. Our couch didn’t even pull out.
“At the Norwich Inn.”
I smiled, because at least one of my birthday plans was still intact. “Okay. I’ll throw on some clothes.”
After I’d donned a newer pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, I found everyone in our small living room. “Thanks for waiting. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
“First the present!” Mr. Wainright announced, while his wife and daughter both grinned like crazy women.
“Uh, okay. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Thinking of you!” Lark’s father boomed. “We’ve been worrying about you! That’s why we bought this.” He walked over to the front door and opened it.
I followed him, but everything outside was the same as it had been before. “I don’t get what you mean?”
He laughed. “The car, son. We brought you the car. Your truck just isn’t reliable enough, and you drive so many miles every day just to live here for Lark.”
What?My gaze landed on the Volvo. Lark had once said they were thinking of upgrading, and might want to sell. “You traded up from the Volvo?”
“No, we had a better idea.” Mr. Wainright held up a keyring with a bow tied on it. “Happy Birthday.” He handed it to me.
The key said Toyota. And when I pushed the button to unlock it, the shiny Highlander blinked to life. “That car looks so new,” I said stupidly.
“It’s one year old. Has nine thousand miles on it. Four-wheel drive, because you need it in the snow on those dirt roads. And it’s a hybrid.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Won’t cost a mint to fill it up.”
“You brought us a car,” I said, still not quite believing it.
“I knew he’d freak,” Lark said. “They broughtyoua car. Mine does just fine for my three-mile commute.”
“You can’t gift me a car, though.” I was still staring at the SUV. It didn’t look like something I’d ever own. Too new. Too upscale.
“Sure we can. Look.” Lark’s dad waited until I tore my eyes off the shiny toy parked in my driveway and met his gaze. “You need this. We can give it to you, so we did. You don’t have to spend any more time on repairs, because it’s warrantied under their pre-owned program for a while. And you take such good care of Lark’s Bug that it gets better mileage now than it did before.”
“More than that,” Jill broke in, “you take such great care ofLark. You moved out of your friends’ home to be with her. You work harder than any other twenty-four-year-old we’ve ever met. Take this. Drive it. Enjoy it. And we promise to bring you just a sweater or a case of beer on your next birthday.”
Finally I laughed out loud. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say. Nobody ever gave me a car before.”
“Nobody ever gave youanythingbefore,” Lark said. “And yet we still have everything we need.”
That was startlingly true.
“Drive it down the hill for dinner,” Mr. Wainright said. “Let’s eat.” He pulled his own keys out of his pocket and moved off toward the Volvo.
“I’ll ride with Zach,” Lark said, darting ahead to open the passenger door. “Ooh! Leather seats!”
“No way.” I followed her over to the driver’s side and opened the door. “Jesus.”
“You just took the Lord’s name in vain!” she yelped, because I never did that. But the car’s interior was beautiful. It had all the latest gadgetry—a Bluetooth stereo, a GPS system. Satellite radio.
When I sat down and put the key in, it hummed alive with a sound that was absolutely nothing like the old Ford. “Wow.”
