The Heart Wants What It Wants

“I… Yes, but I can’t possibly…”

“Let me see… Hmm, this does need some work. I have to say, miss, you’re lucky you didn’t get stuck in the middle of a bridge or something. Hasn’t the check engine light been on?”

“I… Well, yes, but you know, I didn’t think it was really serious.”

“Why would it be on if your engine didn’t need checking? Your spark plugs – you’re lucky this entire thing didn’t just catch fire.”

“I thought it might catch fire, really,” confessed Diana.

“You’re lucky it didn’t. Now, you let me take care of this car, and you take that one.”

“I don’t… I couldn’t possibly, Thomas! And please, call me Diana.”

“Well then, Diana, let me tell you, I cannot let you drive this car without fixing it up. That means you need to get a ride home. You could call a cab, and then use a cab every day for at least a week or two, because it will take that long to fix your car to make it safe, or you could take that nice Porsche that has already been paid for, and use it.”

“I don’t think it’s right.”

Thomas had been polite and smiling, but apparently, it was an act. He shed the act as if the effort of keeping it up had become too much trouble, and he slipped into what she figured was his real self.

“Look, lady, I don’t know about your moral quandaries. I know cars. This car needs attention. When was the last time you had the oil changed? No, never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t think I could bear to know. How people are allowed to… Please, just take that car and go home. Just go home.”

Diana was shamed into obeying. She had her misgivings, but, well, it was late, and the car was there, and obviously her own car was in safe hands.

“You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?”

“You’re one to talk. Much better care than you’ve been taking of her, that’s for sure. Now go on. I need to get a tow truck out here. My card is in the car, you can call me if you need to check on her, but I’ll take care of her.”

“Okay. Sorry. I… Sorry.”

She took the keys, got in the car, and she had to sigh a little.

It was pretty cool.

Not her style, of course. But still pretty cool.

Diana cast one last glance at her car, and she drove off home.

“Whoa.”

It took her a little while to get used to a car that actually worked as advertised. It didn’t need any of those special touches and handling that her own did. It was honestly pretty odd.

“Okay, let’s…”

She managed to get home by talking to herself, and finally parked in her spot.

“New wheels! Hot damn!”

Diana chuckled.

“Apparently. It’s a loan from a friend, though. My car broke down. How’s your mama doing, Vinnie?”

“She’s good. She baked a lot of muffins so I bet you’ll get some in a basket soon.”

“I’d love that. Too bad I’m not good enough to bake for her.”

“Don’t even try. Say, can I take that car for a spin?”

Diana chuckled again but she shook her head firmly.

“You don’t have your license yet. I know that because your mama told me that you flunked your test. And even if you did, this is not my car, so I’m going to have to say no, Vinnie.”

“Aw, come on, Di!”

“I’m afraid so, Vinnie.”

“Cool car, though,” called Vinnie after her as she walked away.

It was a cool car.

It was not her car.

And she missed her car.

She made no sense at all.

Once she was in her apartment and had cleaned herself up – thank heavens, her jacket hadn’t been ruined, it wasn’t like she could afford to just toss the clothes that she’d bought on sale and carefully chosen so that they wouldn’t go out of style too easily – she considered.

Obviously, she had to call him back.

He had basically just given her a car. Well, loaned her a car. He had gotten her out of a tight spot.

She looked up what the time was in Osaka. It was apparently about twelve noon. So she could call him in a while, when he was having lunch, maybe? Or maybe…

Her phone rang as she was wondering.

Eagerly, she grabbed it and her face fell. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t George.

It was her mother.

Sighing, she took the call, and let her mother complain to her about all of the things that Vicky had done, and what Ninette had been telling people about her husband that wasn’t true, and all the other things that frankly didn’t interest Diana even a little bit at that moment.

She tried to keep the conversation going just long enough to keep her mother happy, but she was glad when she hung up.

Especially because her attention had wandered and her mother had noticed, and she had immediately asked if Trevor was there.

Still nothing from George.

He hadn’t called.

But it was her turn to call him back, wasn’t it? He had just called. And she should thank him for his kindness. But…

A text.

That was a compromise.

So Diana settled down to painstakingly compose a text that hit just the right balance between gratitude and acceptance, and a little reminder that he didn’t need to do things like that, and yet more gratitude.

Half an hour later, she was going mad and failing miserably, and nearly screamed in relief when her phone blinked, with George’s name flashing on the screen.