Recorded dates.
And waited.
The opportunity arrived two Sundays later.
“We’re going to Grandpa’s for dinner,” Mom announced. “We’ll all take the SUV. You can sit in the back.”
I looked at her.
“The back?”
She shrugged.
“Ava’s already driving.”
I smiled.
“I’ll meet you there.”
I called an Uber.
When it pulled away from Grandpa’s long brick driveway that evening, he was already standing on the porch.
His eyes followed the departing vehicle.
Then he looked at me.
“Amelia?”
I climbed the steps.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
He frowned.
“Why are you coming here in an Uber?”
Before I could answer, Mom appeared behind him carrying a kitchen towel.
“Her sister needed the car more,” she said cheerfully.
Grandpa turned.
“What?”
Mom laughed lightly.
“We’re sharing it.”
I remained silent.
That was the first time she looked nervous.
Dinner started twenty minutes later.
Roast beef. Green beans. Potatoes. Grandpa’s expensive crystal glasses that only came out on Sundays.
Ava dominated most of the conversation.
She told Grandpa about imaginary clients.
Imaginary meetings.
Imaginary business opportunities.
Eventually, she started talking about the SUV.
“It handles beautifully,” she said. “Especially on country roads.”
Grandpa stopped cutting his meat.
“Country roads?”
“Yeah. I drove toward the edge of town yesterday. I might help with some work at your farmhouse.”
I almost looked up.
Grandpa owned an old farmhouse about thirty miles away, property that had once belonged to my grandmother’s family.
Nobody visited often.
Grandpa lowered his fork.
“Is that right?”
Something in his voice shifted.
Mom looked at me.
The old silent command passed across the table.
Fix this.
I set down my fork.
“I wouldn’t know how it handles on country roads.”
Grandpa turned toward me.
“I liked driving it,” I continued, “**the one day I actually got to drive it.**”
Silence.
Grandpa’s face hardened.
“The one day?”
“The day you gave it to me.”
Mom jumped in immediately.
“Walter, this is being made into something it isn’t. We’re family. Ava needed transportation, and Amelia has been perfectly capable of—”
Grandpa raised one hand.
Mom stopped.
He looked directly at Ava.
“You drove the SUV toward the farmhouse yesterday?”
Ava swallowed.
“Yes.”
Grandpa pushed his chair back.
His cane hit the hardwood once.
“That’s interesting.”
He reached into his pocket.
**“Because I had a tracker installed in that vehicle.”**
Ava’s face drained white.
So did Mom’s.
That was when I understood this was about far more than my car.
Grandpa motioned toward the hallway.
“My study. Now.”
We followed him.
His study smelled of old leather, cedar, and the lingering trace of tobacco embedded in books from years before he quit smoking.
He set his phone on the desk.
A map glowed across the screen.
Small lines traced the SUV’s movements over the previous two weeks.
Ava crossed her arms.
“So? You tracked us?”
“I tracked my property until the title transfer finished.”
Grandpa enlarged the map.
There were trips downtown.
Shopping centers.
Restaurants.
A hotel nearly two hours away.
Ava’s jaw tightened.
Then Grandpa tapped another location.
