Ruth gave him a quick measuring look. "I know about you, officer. You're the man who let Margaret stay when somebody wanted her put on the sidewalk."
Hank cleared his throat. "I tried to do the decent thing, ma'am."
"That seems to have become a rare talent around here."
Margaret was waiting beside the covered Buick. She had dressed more formally for the occasion, wearing a cream blouse beneath a dark green jacket and a small silver brooch Walter had given her on their fortieth anniversary. When Ruth entered, Margaret stepped forward without ceremony. The two women stopped several feet apart, studying faces that time had changed but not erased.
"Ruth Brooks," Margaret said. "You still have the same eyes."
Ruth laughed softly. "Margaret Hale. You look as if you could still balance the books in your head."
"Only the important ones."
They embraced carefully. Ruth's arms tightened around Margaret's shoulders, and for a moment neither spoke. Denise watched from beside Tyler, her eyes filling with tears. She remembered Margaret as a younger woman who had once handed her a pencil to keep her occupied while Ruth signed a car contract.
"My daughter," Ruth said, pulling back, "is all grown up now. And this big fellow is her boy."
Margaret took Denise's hands. "Of course I remember the little girl. Walter used to keep peppermints behind the desk because you always asked for one."
Denise gave a surprised laugh. "Mom told me that. I thought she was making it up."
"Your mother rarely needed to make anything up. The world provided enough stories on its own."
Tyler stepped toward the car and lifted the cotton cover. Ruth made a sound that silenced the room. She reached for the driver's door, then hesitated as though asking permission of someone she had once known. Margaret nodded and came beside her.
"Go on, dear. It's yours to remember."
Ruth opened the door. The familiar blue interior emerged beneath the overhead lights, and she gripped the top of the window frame to steady herself. Tyler moved closer, but she waved him off with a small smile. She lowered herself into the seat slowly and placed both hands on the wheel.
For nearly a minute, she did not speak. Her fingers moved across the smooth surface, pausing where the horn button met the surrounding ring. Then she closed her eyes, and the years seemed to fall away from her face.
"I took Denise home in this car after her first overnight stay at the hospital," she said. "She had a fever, and I was afraid to go to sleep because I thought I might miss something. Your husband carried her blanket to the passenger door because I couldn't manage the keys and the baby at the same time."
Margaret remembered the visit only after Ruth described it. Walter had treated customers as people whose lives extended far beyond what they bought. He had stopped by their home with a repaired door latch the next morning because the car had been difficult to open from the inside. Margaret had worried that the new business was giving away too much time. Walter said a reliable door mattered more than an extra half hour at the office.