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.
