“I understand.”
“No,” Thomas said gently.
“I don't think anyone can.”
David swallowed.
“You're right.”
Thomas sighed.
“I'll come back tomorrow.”
“Mr. Reed?”
“Yes?”
“I'll make sure you're treated properly.”
Thomas laughed softly.
“David, that's not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want the truth about the car.”
David smiled.
“You'll get it.”
“And David?”
“Yes?”
“Don't tell your salesman who I am.”
David paused.
“Why?”
“Because if he knows I'm wealthy, he'll treat me differently.”
David smiled.
“That would be fair.”
“Exactly.”
The call ended.
David remained seated.
For the next several minutes, he stared at the photograph.
Then he noticed something he hadn't seen before.
The old photograph wasn't just a picture of Thomas and Daniel.
In the background was the very same Jaguar E-Type now sitting in Sterling's showroom.
David stood suddenly.
He grabbed the folder and rushed downstairs.
“Ryan!”
Ryan looked up.
“What?”
David walked toward him.
“Where did this car come from?”
Ryan glanced at the Jaguar.
“The E-Type?”
“Yes.”
“Private collector.”
“Name?”
Ryan frowned.
“I'd have to check.”
David's expression hardened.
“Check.”
Ryan pulled up the inventory system.
He typed rapidly.
Then he stopped.
“That's strange.”
“What?”
“The previous owner requested confidentiality.”
“Who brokered the sale?”
Ryan looked at the screen.
“Reed Automotive Holdings.”
David felt a chill.
He slowly turned toward the Jaguar.
The car wasn't merely a similar model.
It was the car.
The exact car Thomas and Daniel had once stood beside.
The car they had promised to own together.
The car Thomas had spent twenty-three years trying to find.
And suddenly David understood why Thomas had looked at it the way he had.
He hadn't been looking at a machine.
He had been looking at a promise.
David turned toward Ryan.
“Don't say anything to him tomorrow.”
Ryan frowned.
“About what?”
“About who he is.”
Ryan looked confused.
“Why?”
David stared at him.
“Because tomorrow, I want you to meet the man you thought couldn't afford this car.”
Ryan's face changed.
“What do you mean?”
David didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward his office.
Behind him, Ryan looked again at the Jaguar.
For the first time, he wondered who the old man really was.
And for the first time, he felt something he hadn't felt when Thomas walked through the door that morning.
Not irritation.
Not superiority.
Fear.
Because if David was right, Ryan hadn't merely insulted an elderly stranger.
He had insulted a man whose name was written all over the history of the automobile industry.
And tomorrow, that man was coming back.
But Thomas had no intention of humiliating Ryan.
He had something much more important planned.
He wanted to see whether the salesman would treat him differently if he still believed the old man had nothing to offer.
By nine o'clock the following morning, Ryan Mitchell had already checked his reflection in the showroom windows three times.
He told himself it was because his tie felt crooked.
It wasn't.
He was nervous.
He had spent most of the previous evening thinking about the elderly man in the brown jacket.
Thomas Reed.
The name had become impossible to ignore.
Ryan had searched it online.
He had found articles.
Photographs.
Interviews.
Automotive magazines.
A documentary about classic-car restoration.
There was even a photograph of Thomas standing beside a Ferrari at a charity event, surrounded by famous collectors and racing drivers.
Ryan had stared at the screen for nearly an hour.
The man he had dismissed as someone who probably couldn't afford a $420,000 Jaguar was worth more money than Ryan could comprehend.
But that wasn't what bothered him most.
What bothered him was the fact that Thomas had never mentioned any of it.
He hadn't bragged.
He hadn't corrected Ryan.
He hadn't pulled out a credit card or called someone important.
He had simply walked away.
Ryan had spent the previous night imagining what would happen when Thomas returned.
He expected David to embarrass him.
He expected Thomas to demand an apology.
He expected the entire staff to watch him fail.
At 9:17 a.m., the glass doors opened.
Ryan looked up.
Thomas walked inside.
Same brown jacket.
Same dark trousers.
Same worn leather shoes.
No expensive watch.
No assistant.
No chauffeur.
Nothing had changed.
Except the way Ryan saw him.
Ryan immediately stood.
Thomas noticed.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Reed.”
Thomas smiled.
“You remembered my name.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Yes.”
“That's good.”
David appeared from his office.
“Thomas.”
They shook hands.
“Good to see you again,” David said.
“You too.”
David glanced at Ryan.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Black, please.”
“I'll get it.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Don't trouble yourself.”
“It's no trouble.”
David walked toward the break room.
Thomas turned toward the Jaguar.
Ryan stood several feet away.
He wanted to approach.
He wanted to apologize.
But something stopped him.
Thomas noticed.
“You can come over.”
Ryan walked toward him.
“I owe you an apology.”
Thomas looked at the Jaguar.
“For yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“You do.”
Ryan nodded.
“I was disrespectful.”
“Yes.”
“I made assumptions.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
Thomas turned toward him.
“You were.”
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
“I don't have an excuse.”
Thomas studied him for several seconds.
Then he asked:
“Would you have treated me differently if you had known who I was?”
Ryan hesitated.
That was the question he had feared.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Thomas nodded.
“At least you're honest.”
Ryan looked down.
“That doesn't make it better.”
“No.”
Thomas placed his hands behind his back.
“But honesty is where improvement begins.”
Ryan looked surprised.
“You're not angry?”
“I am.”
Ryan looked up.
Thomas continued.
“Not because you thought I was poor.”
Ryan said nothing.
“I'm angry because you thought being poor would make it acceptable to treat me badly.”
Ryan's face tightened.
Thomas continued.
“You didn't know me.”
“I know.”
“You didn't ask about my interest in the car.”
“I know.”
“You didn't ask why I was there.”
“I know.”
“You looked at my clothes and decided my story.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Yes.”
Thomas looked at him for a long moment.
Then he said:
“That is a dangerous habit.”
Before Ryan could answer, David returned with the coffee.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
Thomas took the cup.
David looked at Ryan.
“Why don't you walk Mr. Reed through the vehicle?”
Ryan blinked.
“Me?”
Thomas smiled.
“Yes.”
Ryan looked at David.
David gave him a small nod.
Ryan turned toward the Jaguar.
“Of course.”
He opened the display gate.
Thomas followed.
Ryan tried to keep his voice steady.
“This is a 1965 Series 1 E-Type.”
Thomas nodded.
“Correct.”
“Original 4.2-liter inline-six.”
Thomas glanced at him.
“Actually, the Series 1 4.2 wasn't introduced until later.”
Ryan stopped.
Thomas smiled.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Ryan laughed awkwardly.
“You're right.”
Thomas nodded.
“Keep going.”
Ryan looked at the documentation.
“The car was originally delivered to a buyer in California.”
“Which city?”
“Los Angeles.”
“No.”
Ryan checked the file.
“San Francisco.”
Thomas smiled.
“Correct.”
Ryan looked at him.
“You know the history.”
“A little.”
Ryan turned the page.
“The vehicle changed hands five times before being purchased by a private collector in 1999.”
Thomas said nothing.
Ryan continued.
“Then it was sent to a restoration facility in Connecticut.”
“Which one?”
Ryan hesitated.
“Barton & Sons.”
Thomas nodded.
“Good.”
Ryan exhaled.
For the next thirty minutes, the conversation became less like a sales presentation and more like an examination.
Thomas asked about the engine.
The chassis.
The restoration.
The leather.
The transmission.
The provenance.
Ryan answered as best he could.
When he didn't know something, he admitted it.
And Thomas appreciated that.
Finally, they reached the glove compartment.
Ryan opened it.
Inside were several documents.
Thomas froze.
His eyes moved to a small envelope.
He reached for it.
“What's this?”
Ryan shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Thomas opened it carefully.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Thomas stared at the handwriting.
His face changed.
Ryan noticed.
“Mr. Reed?”