Back in the showroom, Emily was showing Eleanor an alternative rear-seat arrangement when Michael approached with Arthur. He had deliberately let the human resources review proceed without him. Now he wanted to return to the reason his parents had originally visited: their anniversary gift. He asked Eleanor whether she still liked the black grand touring car. She said yes, but she had begun worrying about maintaining such an unusual vehicle.
"Your father and I don't need something that requires a team of people to move it every time we want groceries," she told him. "I want to know whether we'd actually enjoy owning this thing."
"A fair question," Michael said. He turned to Emily. "Can you explain what living with it would involve? Not the brochure version. The inconvenient parts, too."
Emily appreciated the distinction. She walked them through servicing intervals, insurance considerations, specialist availability, and the difference between a collector's vehicle and something meant for daily errands. She noted that a three-million-dollar coachbuilt car might be unsuitable as their only mode of transport and recommended keeping their existing sedan if they wanted a practical option. She also explained that the rare vehicle's appeal lay partly in craftsmanship and exclusivity, not in conveniences that could not be found in less expensive cars.
Walter listened carefully. "So you're saying it's not the sensible choice."
"I'm saying sensible depends on what you're buying it for," Emily replied. "If you need one car to do every job, I would recommend something else. If you want to celebrate something important and enjoy a particular kind of craftsmanship, this may be exactly what you're looking for. But you shouldn't buy it unless you both enjoy it."
Eleanor exchanged a look with Walter. For decades, every purchase had been judged by utility first. Even the holiday dishes she loved had been purchased secondhand because they could serve a practical purpose in addition to looking beautiful. She had never been irresponsible with money, and she was not planning to begin. Yet she understood that refusing every pleasure merely because a simpler alternative existed could become another kind of deprivation, one that continued long after its original necessity had passed.
"I don't want this to be bought out of anger," she said to Michael. "Not one cent of it."
He nodded. "Then it won't be. We can leave and come back another day. Or buy nothing. I mean it."
Walter walked slowly around the car, studying the trim and the alignment of its panels. He thought about fifty years of marriage, the nights he came home with grease on his hands, the mornings Eleanor got the children ready for school while he ran between jobs, the days they had made do with what they had because the alternative was debt they could not afford. He had no desire to parade his success through town. But there was something touching about the idea of giving Eleanor an extraordinary experience while they still had the health and time to enjoy it together.
He looked at her. "You want to take it somewhere?"