After missing that doctor’s appointment, I went inside and found his old club directory.
Then I called George, the club president.
“I think it’s time for breakfast again.”
There was a pause.
Then George said, “We’ve been waiting for that call.”
We chose Monday morning.
And almost unbelievably, Linda gave us perfect timing.
A landscaping crew was working at her cafar house, so she’d parked her SUV directly in the middle of my driveway again.
At seven o’clock, I heard an engine.
A red Mustang appeared.
Then another car.
Then another.
Within the hour, roughly thirty classic vehicles had arrived.
My driveway filled.
So did the gravel lane.
Linda’s SUV ended up surrounded by legally invited guests on my property.
But I almost forgot about her.
People I’d avoided for two years were standing in my backyard again.
George brought coffee.
