Grave Apparel (62 page)

She laughed.
“Like
Bill Gates is comfortable?”

“Nobody is that comfortable. And the
Bentleys
aren’t
com
fortable,
they’re
just
uncomfortably
rich.
I’m
nowhere
near
Bentley
rich.”
Vic
gave
her
a
sidelong
look
and
pulled
off
the
Parkway
onto Chain Bridge Road.

“Have
you
forgotten
that I fell for you when I thought you were just a small
town
cop turned
P.I.
and I
figured
your net
worth
might
be
a
full
tank
of
gas
in
this
Jeep?”

It
was
Vic’s
turn to laugh. “Pretty good
cover,
huh.”

“All
this
stuff
about being ‘comfortable’ you pulled on me
later
,
cowboy.
Bait and switch, I call
it.”

They turned
off
Chain Bridge into the
town
of McLean,
the
tony suburb where
Vic’s
parents
lived,
and then onto his
folks’
street. Their house was quite spacious,
but
it was not one
of
the obnoxiously large McMansions that were multiplying like mushrooms. An ohsocomfortable neighborhood, Lacey
de
cided.
Vic
was renting a townhouse not far
away.
Lacey
as
sumed he was just driving her past the Donovans’ place so
she
could
see
the
neighborhood’s
Christmas
decorations.
Two
soaring pine trees decorated with oldfashioned colored
lights
anchored the
drive
that led to the senior Donovans’ home,
and
the
roof
was
outlined
with
Christmas
lights
as
well.
In
the
front room, an enormous decorated tree blazed away
through
the front
window.

“Your
mother’s
already decorated
everything!”

“She’s
like
that. If
everything’s
not done by the
first
week end in
December,
she feels
she’s
failed
in her duty as a McLean
matron.”

“Oh,
no.”
Lacey
could feel herself pale. “I
haven’t
even
fig
ured out what to
make
for dessert
yet.”

Vic
parked
the Jeep and touched her
face.
“She
won’t
care what it is,
Lacey.”

“Men are so
silly.”
She kissed him
lightly.
“Of course
she’ll
care.”

“We’re
here.”
He turned
off
the engine. “Is this some kind of setup?”

“Don’t
worry,
they’re
not
home.”

“The lights are
on,”
she pointed out.
“Your
mother
wouldn’t
leave
the house with lights on a
live
tree.”

“Oh,
they’re
at the neighbors. I just
want
to
show
you some
thing.”
He hopped out of the Jeep and opened the passenger door for
her.
“Please.”

The front door opened and Nadine
bustled
out with a huge smile on her
face.
“What a nice surprise!”

Vic
looked
chagrined.
“Didn’t
think
you
were
gonna
be
home,
Mom.”
Lacey
pasted a smile on her
face
and squeezed his arm
meaningfully.

“Is that a nice thing to say?” Nadine said to
Lacey.
“Sean
Victor,
you thought
you’d
sneak your girlfriend into the house while we were gone?”

“Um, not
exactly.”
He
looked
guilty.

Nadine wrapped
Lacey
up in a
warm
hug.
“Lacey,
it’s
so nice to see you. Come on in and
I’ll
get you both something to
drink,”
she said.

“I just came to
show
Lacey
something, Mom.
We
won’t
be
long.”

“Is
this
about
that
old
BMW
of
yours
out
in
the
garage?”
Vic
groaned. “Mother—”

Lacey
turned to
Vic.
“You
have
a BMW? But you
always
drive
the
Jeep.”

He took
Lacey’s
hand and told Nadine
they’d
be back inside later for that drink. He led her around the house and opened the
door
to
the
garage.
Next
to
the
shocking
pink
Caddy
sat
a
per
fect BMW 2002tii, freshly painted in forest green.

“Vintage
1974,”
Vic
said. “The last year for the tii model. Completely
rebuilt.
Runs really great. I
know
you
like
vintage cars. Me
too.”

“It’s
beautiful,
Vic,”
she said,
walking
around the car and ad
miring
its
details.
It
was a
proudlooking
little
car,
with
its
squarish
but
jaunty shape and big round headlights. The fresh
green
paint
gleamed
under
the
garage
lights.
Lacey
thought
the
whole car
looked
brandnew.
And it
was
definitely
Vic’s
color,
but
it
didn’t
seem quite
like
a car for
Vic
somehow.
Too
cute, perhaps.

“Engine’s
rebuilt.
Low
mileage.”
He
gave
her
the
little
Bimmer’s
highlights. “Fuel injection actually works. Fast,
re
liable. I replaced all the rusted panels with galvanized
steel.
And
this
model’s
got
the
bigger,
safer
bumper.
It’s
the
last
year they imported the 2002tii. This car is from when
BMWs

were still cool, before they became shameless overpriced
yup
pie
bait.”

“You
worked
on this car?”
Lacey
said. “I missed the part about you being a car mechanic
too.”

“Um, I’m
handy.”
Vic
flashed his killer smile, white teeth
against
his
olive
skin. It
was
devastating
when he looked
at her
like
that.
“These
things
are
notorious
rust
buckets,
but
I’ve
taken
care of all that. I
work
on it
over
here because my dad is the tool king of Northern
Virginia.”
He
waved
at the
garage
wall,
covered
with cabinets and tools hanging on hooks, a
large
and
intimidatingly
wellorganized
display.
Everything
from
hammers and
saws
and drills to nails and
screws
and
washers
in jars, chainsaws,
power
sanders,
power
augurs, timing
lights,
things
Lacey
didn’t
even
recognize.

“It’s
a great
car,
Vic.
Wow.
I’ve
always
liked
these.
It’s
so
cool.”
She caught herself just short of saying it
was
adorable, it
seemed
like
such
a
girly
thing
to
say.
She
opened
the
door.
“Sheepskins
on
the
seats?”
It
was a
nice
touch,
a
Colorado
touch. She rubbed her hands
over
them in appreciation.

“To
keep
your cute bottom
comfy.”

“You
mean we get to
drive
this tonight instead of the Jeep? All right!” She caught herself. “Not that I
don’t
love
the Jeep and all
that.”

Actually,
Lacey
resented
Vic’s
green Jeep
ever
so
slightly.
It
always
ran.
It
never
seemed
to
break
down,
unlike
her
late
lamented 280ZX, which had spent more time with
Lacey’s
me chanic than with
her.
It
never
got itself stolen,
unlike
her poor
abused
Z, which had been stolen and turned to a life of crime. All the while,
Vic’s
darn Jeep Wrangler just
kept
running and remained rock solid and unmolested.

“I
wasn’t
thinking about
me,”
he said. “I
was
thinking about it for
you.”

“Is
it
for
sale?
You’re
really
gonna
sell
your
project
car,
your
baby?”
She
needed
a
car
and
she
loved
this
one.
The
forestgreen
color
was
almost
identical
to
Vic’s
Jeep.
“How
much?”

“It’s
not for sale,
Lacey.
I’m not gonna sell it.
It’s
for you.

It’s
a Christmas
present.”

“A
car!
You
want
to
give
me a car?” A
wave
of astonishment mingled with panic
washed
over
her.
“A
car?! I
can’t
accept a
car!”

“Why
not?”

“Because!
It’s
a car!
It’s
too much. I mean, nice girls
don’t
accept cars, for
heaven
sakes.
What
would
people say?”
Lacey
meant people other than Stella, who
would
think it
was
totally
cool
and
that
Lacey
must
have
done
something
right
for
a change. Or people
like
Brooke,
who
would
want
to
take
a
fast
test
drive
and tell her about all the spies she
knew
who had once
owned
or
driven
or stolen a 1974 BMW 2002. Lacey
meant
nice normal people.