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Kathleen blinked. “I’d better not.” She picked up her empty glass. “I’m not supposed to drink with my blood pressure tablets.”
Martha thought about the three cocktails. “What happens if you do?”
“I don’t know. We might be about to find out.”
Hopefully not. “The risotto was delicious. So was the cocktail. Thank you.”
“Have another.” Kathleen waved at the cute waiter. “If you don’t misbehave when you’re twenty-five, you don’t have anything to look back on when you’re eighty. If the time comes when I’m too decrepit to travel and maintain my independence I shall spend my days traveling through my memories, and when that happens I should very much like them to be interesting. I’m sure you will feel the same.”
Martha couldn’t imagine being eighty, but she’d allowed herself to be persuaded, and she’d allowed herself to be persuaded the night after too, which was why she was now standing in front of a sports car with the aftereffects of the three cocktails still hammering away at her brain. The hot sun beat down on the shiny red sports car, making the paintwork gleam and dazzle.
She’d had two blissful evenings and had spent the whole of the day before exploring Chicago on her own because Kathleen had decided to have a quiet day before their journey began. It had been more exciting than Martha could have imagined. For a brief time her anxiety about the driving had vanished, but now it was back with a vengeance as was the sickening realization that she was about to be responsible for two lives—hers and Kathleen’s. Also the lives of anyone else who happened to be on the road in front of her.
Cade was still waiting for a response from her and she tried to focus. “What did you say again?”
“I was checking that this is really the car you want.” Cade looked between the two of them, as if he’d never seen such an unlikely pairing.
Martha didn’t blame him. She opened her mouth to say, Of course this isn’t what we want, but Kathleen was talking.
“This is perfect.” She stroked her slender wrinkled hand over the shiny surface. Her rings looked too big for her fingers. “Is it fast?”
“Fast?” The guy transferred his gum from his right cheek to his left. “Lady, this baby has a 5.0 liter V-8 engine and it’ll go from zero to sixty in under four seconds. That about fast enough for you?”
Kathleen tilted her head. “It sounds sufficient for our needs.”
The guy grinned and shook his head. “You’re really something.” He obviously thought Kathleen should be renting a wheelchair, not a high-performance car.
Martha felt out of her depth. Age was supposed to make you careful, wasn’t it? Mrs. Hartley next door never went anywhere without her walking stick. She didn’t answer the front door without checking the spy hole first.
It was clear now why Liza had looked anxious and asked so many questions.
But this was Kathleen’s trip. Surely she had a right to live life the way she wanted to? Although she didn’t have all the facts, of course. Lacking full disclosure from Martha on the quality of her driving, Kathleen had probably underestimated the risk.
“This model has redesigned cylinder heads and new crankshaft—” Cade droned on and Martha’s mind glazed over. What exactly was a quad tip dual exhaust and why did she need to know about it?
Cade opened the door and gestured. “You’ve got your sport setting, your track setting—”
Martha looked inside, relieved to see automatic transmission. P for Park and D for Drive. That was all she needed to remember. She had no intention of reversing. This journey was going to be forward all the way. In fact that could be a metaphor for her life. No going backward.
Cade straightened. “You want to take her for a ride?”
And give him visible evidence of her lack of skill? He’d probably refuse to rent it to them.
“Not right now. Let’s finish up the paperwork. We need fully comprehensive insurance.” She caught his eye. “Not that we’re going to need it, but probably best to be safe. In case someone reckless drives into us.” Like a tree. Or a post. That had been known to happen.
“Sure. That’s it? Then we’re done here.” Cade shrugged. “Any questions?”
“I have a question.” Kathleen removed her sunglasses and the wicked gleam in her eyes made Martha almost as nervous as the prospect of driving the car.
“Kathleen—”
“What’s the speed limit?”
Oh for...
“Why? Are you on the run, lady?” Cade laughed and scratched at his skin under the T-shirt. “You robbed a bank? Police chasing you?”
“No, although I did recently have dealings with the police when they came to remove a body from my kitchen.”
