This I’d shared with Jake earlier, which meant we’d already been to the Porsche, Lexus and Cadillac dealerships before we stopped by this used dealership on my whim. That whim being me seeing the car we just test drove in the lot and crying out, “Let’s stop here!”
Jake, being Jake, had swung into the lot.
“It’s cheap because it’s a year old and has sixty thousand miles on it,” he stated.
“Is that a lot?”
He stared at me another moment before he shook his head, looked at his boots then looked back at me. “Yeah. It’s a lot,” he told me. “That kind of mileage means its first owner drove the f**k outta it. Which, before you ask, is not good.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
“Since you can afford it, you’re gettin’ the Cayenne,” he declared.
I had to admit, the Cayenne was very luxurious and the ride was exceptionally smooth.
Even so, I noted, “It’s my understanding that purchasing a new car means that when you drive it off the lot, it loses a good deal of value.”
“You wanna sell it in a month or a year, that’s a problem,” he replied. “You buy a Porsche, though, it’s a high-performance vehicle, any problem you have will be down the road and I mean way down the road and it’ll likely be about wear and tear and nothin’ else. It’ll be solid. It won’t cause you any headaches. And you can probably own it for twenty years and not have to deal with shit except regular maintenance.”
I had no idea what my future held, I just knew it held Lavender House and Magdalene. And thus, when there, I would need reliable transport. And it was highly unlikely I’d wish to engage in the onerous activity of car shopping again in six months, a year or even ten of them.
“And it’s black,” he went on and I focused again on him. “Black is hot. That Cayenne in black is hotter. You in anything, even a mini-van, would be hot. That’s just you. You in that Cayenne…” he paused and grinned big, “Smokin’.”
“I’ll get the Cayenne,” I agreed immediately.
“Good call, Slick,” he approved, grinning bigger.
I grinned back.
He then moved us toward his truck, his hand still in mine, as he turned his head and called to the salesman, “Thanks for your time.”
The salesman’s face fell.
Jake bleeped the locks on his truck, took me directly to the passenger side door and opened it for me. He also helped me up. He got behind the wheel and we started the twenty-mile drive back to the Porsche dealership.
As with everything Jake gave me, his time that afternoon had been generous.
Therefore, I remarked into the cab, “For your assistance this afternoon, I think I owe you and your family another dinner.”
“Babe, after last night’s salmon and sautéed potatoes and that un-fucking-believably good hollandaise sauce followed by homemade tiramisu, I’m not gonna say no. But just sayin’, I like bein’ with you so I got a shot at that, I’m gonna take it even if it means drivin’ all over the county, lookin’ at cars and dealing with car salesmen. So you don’t owe me shit.”
I had ceased breathing when he said he liked being with me.
It must be said, I also liked being with him. A great deal. And every time I was with him, I liked it more.
Alas, I liked it in a way he didn’t like it.
Regardless, I had liked being with Henry for years in a way Henry didn’t like and I’d lived.
I could do it again.
It wouldn’t be easy and the more I got to know Jake (and his family), the less easy it became.
But my only alternative was not having Jake (and his family) and I already knew in the short time that I knew all of them that would be worse.
So I would do it, no matter how not easy it was.
For as long as I could do it.
“Though, pointing out, my boys and I could do without Project Runway. Watchin’ that shit meant Ethan paid attention to his homework and not the TV but I think it nearly killed Conner.”
I grinned at the windshield at his quip and offered, “Next time, Amber and I’ll watch it on a set in another room.”
“Strike that, you watch it on a set in another room, you aren’t on the couch with me so I’ll put up with Project Runway.”
My grin got wider.
Yes, he liked being with me.
And I liked that.
A great deal.
We drove to the Porsche dealership in Jake’s truck.
I drove back to Lavender House in a new black Cayenne with Jake trailing after Jake drove a hard bargain.
For me.
* * * * *
The next afternoon, to turn my mind from Eliza Weaver and the alarmingly quick devastation her disease was causing, I left their house when Mr. Weaver came back from the office.
I got in my new Cayenne and backed out of their driveway with my phone in my hand.
When I was on my way, my next destination was the mall. This was not because I was running out of clothes (I flew first class and thus could have more than the normal allotted luggage, but even so, I knew how to pack and was always prepared for anything) but because I needed a different kind of clothing.
I also needed to make my daily call to Henry.
The ones for the last several days had been rushed and short, mostly because he had little time to give to me. That said, I’d made them and he seemed to be mollified.
So I made today’s call on the go and multi-tasking.
“Josephine,” he greeted with a smile in his voice.
“Hello, Henry,” I replied with one in mine as well since I was smiling.
“How are you, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Fine,” I answered. “Busy. There’s much to do. As I said I would do, I did manage to buy a new car yesterday, which is good. That said, the search for it and paperwork, which is most time-consuming, not to mention annoying, ate up the afternoon and I need to get some clothes as there’s more work to do in the garden and to see to that, I shouldn’t be wearing Versace.”
“Work in the garden?” Henry queried.
“Yes,” I stated, hitting the turn signal and slowing for an upcoming stop sign, thinking while feeling the smooth deceleration, Jake was very right about this vehicle. It was sublime. “And I need to get to the mall and home and do it quickly because Jake phoned,” I carried on. “He has a lock on someone who’s interested in buying Gran’s Buick so I need to be back at Lavender House to meet Jake there so we can be there when the buyer arrives.”