He reached across the table and took his parents' hands. They sat that way for a minute, three people who had spent much of their lives making promises to one another, sometimes spoken and sometimes not. Finally, Eleanor asked whether anyone wanted the peach cobbler she had brought. Michael laughed, a brief surprised sound, and Walter declared that he had been waiting all evening for somebody to remember dessert. The tension did not vanish, but the room became a family room again rather than a place where an injury was being examined.
Later, when his parents had gone upstairs to the guest suite, Michael walked into his study. He called Lydia and asked her to obtain the dealership's management contacts and a preliminary account of its complaint procedures. He specifically instructed her not to invent a business relationship or threaten anyone's job on his behalf. "I want the facts preserved," he said. "And I want an independent review, not a favor from someone who recognizes my name."
Lydia listened, took notes, and asked whether he planned to return in person. When he said yes, she reminded him of an arrangement that could become important. A private automotive collection associated with one of Bennett Meridian's long-standing partners was hosting a nearby exhibition that week. Among the vehicles temporarily housed at the collection's secure facility were two extraordinary Rolls-Royce Boat Tail automobiles, both on display by special permission from their owners. Michael had helped underwrite the exhibition months earlier. Access to them was not a matter of ordering cars from a showroom or summoning objects that existed to impress him; their appearance required the collectors' approval, insurance, professional drivers, and careful arrangements.
"I know why you're thinking about it," Lydia said when he asked whether the cars might be available for a short escorted arrival. "But your father may hate the idea."
"He might," Michael admitted. "Let me speak to them before anybody makes a move."
He returned to the sitting room outside the guest suite and found his parents still awake, arguing amiably about whether the gallery's black car had enough room for a weekend bag. Michael described the possible arrival in the two Boat Tails, and Walter stared at him with the expression he had used when Michael proposed buying a second home with a swimming pool. Eleanor was more curious. She had seen photographs of the unusual cars and had loved their sculpted shapes in spite of herself.
"You're suggesting we arrive like a royal procession," Walter said.
"A very small procession," Michael answered. "Two cars and professional drivers. They're already in town for an exhibition. I can ask permission."
"And what does that accomplish?"
"It gets people's attention long enough for them to listen. But if it feels like another way of turning what happened to you into a performance, we won't do it. I mean that."
Eleanor considered the idea. She thought about John's confidence as he judged her dress, and she knew how quickly that confidence would collapse if the same woman arrived beside vehicles that made him stand straighter. The irony would be unmistakable. But Walter had raised a serious objection. If the story became merely a wealthy family surprising a rude employee, the more important lesson could disappear behind the cars.