“Are you sure about this?” I asked, as Stella opened the driver-side door and stood beside the car.
“The owner clearly wished for someone to borrow it. Why else leave the keys?”
“I mean, are you sure you want a white car?”
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing, my dear Pip. There is no better way to hide than in plain sight.” Stella bent down and pressed a button. The trunk popped open with a slow, calculated hiss. “Chop, chop, before someone comes along.”
I rolled my eyes and carried our things to the back of the Mercedes. The trunk was extremely spacious and had either been meticulously vacuumed on a fairly regular basis or rarely used. It closed with a gentle click. I kept the book out. I figured she’d want that.
Stella tossed me the keys. “You’re driving.”
I took one last look at the Jeep and realized how much I would miss that car. I’d owned it for four years, longer than any other. Maybe I’d get the chance to come back for it, knowing in my heart I never would.
I climbed behind the wheel of the Mercedes and pulled the door shut behind me. The plush leather seats hugged me. “Whoa.”
Stella was beaming. “Right? I am so glad you suggested a luxury car. Also, fully insured. I checked the paperwork. No need to fret.” She snatched the book from me and set it in her lap.
My hands rolled over the leather steering wheel. I adjusted the mirrors.
Stella reached for the stereo and clicked it on. I expected static to blare out from the speakers, but instead came Steven Tyler and Aerosmith belting outI don’t want to miss a thing.
“Huh,” I said, looking down at the radio.
“What?”
“Nothing. The radio. It just reminded me of when we were kids, on that bench.”
“‘Jessie’s Girl’,” Stella said softly. “That’s the song that was playing the first time you came up the hill. The first day we met.”
“Rick Springfield was the shit.”
“The shit?” Stella said.
“You never heard that expression?”
She shook her head.
“The shit. The bomb, the man. Doctor Noah Drake fromGeneral Hospital? Jo used to watch that show whenever she wasn’t working.”
Her face was blank.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
She shook her head again. “We had no televisions in the house. Ms. Oliver wouldn’t stand for it. I was permitted music for one hour each day, providing I completed my studies. Of course, there were books, too, so many books. I lived in those books.”
I pulled out of the parking lot back onto 395, toward the interstate.
“How did you get out of the house?”
“Through the front door, of course.”
The Mercedes picked up speed effortlessly. After years with the Jeep, the quiet cockpit of the German car was jarring.
“Tell me about the day you got out.”
Stella openedGreat Expectationsat some random place and began to read again. “Please don’t ever ask me about that day. Never again, Pip.”
Sweat trickled down her cheek, down her neck. She ignored it.
