“It’s all right,” Frank said. “Someone will come along.”
Another seven minutes passed.
Inside the showroom, salespeople crossed from desk to desk beneath bright ceiling lights. Through the glass, Emily could see one young salesman carrying a stack of brochures from a storage cabinet. He was tall, Black, probably in his late twenties, wearing a dealership polo rather than the fitted suits favored by the senior sales staff. He glanced through the window, noticed Frank and Emily still waiting beside the blue sedan, and set the brochures down.
A minute later, he came outside carrying two bottles of water.
“Sorry for the wait, folks,” he said. “Can I get you some water while you look around?”
Frank accepted one. “That’s kind of you, son. We appreciate it.”
“My name’s Marcus Reed,” the young man said. “I’m still pretty new here, so if I don’t know something, I’ll find somebody who does instead of pretending. Fair warning.”
Emily laughed, and the tension left her shoulders.
“That sounds better than pretending,” she said.
Marcus looked at the blue sedan. “You interested in this one?”
“I love this one,” Emily said, then immediately looked embarrassed by how quickly she had admitted it.
Marcus smiled. “Great choice. It’s reliable, great on gas, and it’s one of the better first-car options we have in this price range. Good safety package, too.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve done your homework.”
“My sister bought the same model two years ago,” Marcus said. “I helped her shop. I know more about these than the sales binder probably wants me to.”
“Can we look inside?” Emily asked.
“Absolutely.”
Marcus jogged back toward the showroom to retrieve the key. Emily watched him go, then leaned toward Frank.
“Looks like we found someone who actually wants to help us.”
Frank took a drink of water. “Looks that way.”
He did not say what he was thinking. The dealership had been open for more than an hour, and at least four salespeople had seen them standing beside a car. Marcus, apparently the newest person on the floor, had been the first to cross the lot.
When Marcus returned, he unlocked the car and stepped back rather than opening every door himself. “Go ahead. It’s your shopping day.”
Emily slid into the driver’s seat. The seat was slightly too far back, and she moved it forward until her feet reached the pedals comfortably. She adjusted the mirrors. She ran her fingers over the steering wheel. It was not luxury, but it felt new enough to her that the clean upholstery and quiet cabin might as well have belonged to a limousine.
Frank sat in the passenger seat while Marcus leaned through the open rear door and explained the controls. He showed Emily where the emergency brake release was, how the backup camera adjusted with steering input, how to switch the dashboard display, and where to check tire-pressure warnings. He did not rush her.
“What do you think?” Frank asked.
Emily tried to keep her face neutral. “I think I like it.”
“Only like it?”
“Fine. I really like it.”
Marcus grinned. “That’s usually how it goes.”
Frank asked about service records. Marcus pulled them up on his tablet and read through them carefully instead of summarizing from memory. The car had been a one-owner lease return. Routine maintenance had been completed on time. No accident history. New rear tires, brake pads replaced within the last six months, and a battery test completed during reconditioning.
“May we test-drive it?” Frank asked.
“Sure. I’ll just need a copy of a driver’s license and—”
“Marcus.”
The voice came from behind them.
Marcus stopped.
A man in his late thirties approached from the showroom with a measured stride and the expression of someone who had decided he was interrupting a problem rather than a sale. His suit was dark gray, his tie narrow, his hair styled carefully enough that even the breeze seemed reluctant to disturb it. A silver name badge identified him as Trent Lawson, Senior Sales Consultant.
Trent glanced at Frank, then at Emily, then at the blue sedan. His eyes paused briefly on Frank’s boots and canvas jacket.
“Mark inside said someone’s been out here awhile,” Trent said. He looked at Marcus. “I’ve got this one. Why don’t you go help restock the brochures?”
Marcus hesitated.
“We were just getting ready for a test drive,” he said.
“I’ll take it from here.”
There was nothing openly rude in Trent’s tone toward Marcus, but there was an edge of authority in it, a reminder of rank on the sales floor. Marcus looked at Frank, then Emily.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Good luck with the car, you two.”
Emily frowned as Marcus walked away.
Frank noticed that, too.
Trent held out his hand. “Trent Lawson. Senior sales. Sorry you got started with one of the newer guys.”
“Marcus seemed to know the car pretty well,” Frank said.
“He’s learning.” Trent gave a short smile. “We usually try to match customers with someone who can steer them toward the right inventory.”
Emily glanced at the blue sedan. “This is the inventory I’m interested in.”
Trent looked at the window sticker, then back at her. “This model’s a bit out of range, folks. We’ve got some more budget-friendly options over there.”
He pointed toward the far edge of the lot where several older compact cars sat in a row.
Emily’s face changed.
Not dramatically. She simply looked down for a moment, as though she had been caught reaching for something that did not belong to her.