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mother had just moved here. He couldn’t go to school because of the health problems. He had a tutor who got him through his classes. But he was in love with cars. He’d heard about the museum and came to see what Uncle Eldon had. I helped out after school, answering the phone and running errands. We met, became friends, and, well, there just never was anyone else for either of us.”
    “High school sweethearts?” Peter’s question called her back from her memories.
    “I guess you’d say that. We were high school age. I was fifteen and he was not quite seventeen when we met. At first it was just for fun, being around the cars at the museum, getting our own licenses, watching car events in our area, learning to drive in the competitions and participating in them. Then dates, real ones, going out together to see a movie, playing Scrabble at home with my folks, Danny coming for family picnics and parties. We knew we were meant to be together; we always knew.”
    “But you only married two years ago.” Peter’s voice made the statement a question.
    Nina left her chair to close the curtains and turn on another lamp. Darkness had filled the room as evening deepened. “We had to wait,” she answered. “My parents died in an accident my last year of high school. I’d promised them I’d finish college before Danny and I married. I couldn’t go back on that. And Danny, well, he wasn’t physically able to take on college. He planned to work with Uncle Eldon, learn more about managing the museum and restoring the cars, so he’d have some real work to do when I finished school. Money wasn’t going to be a problem. When Danny turned twenty-five, he’d come into the trust fund his dad left for him. We’d never have to worry about that. I wanted to teach, Danny loved being at the museum, and waiting was just the sensible thing to do. He turned twenty-five two weeks before we married. We were going to Dallas to sign all the documents so the lawyers would turn over his money.” She pulled the long drape over the front window and came back to her armchair. “More coffee?”
    Peter shook his head. “Not if I’m going to sleep tonight. You make fine coffee, Nina.” He turned to a fresh page in the notebook. “Now what did the police say after Danny disappeared? Wealthy young man vanishes on his wedding day, that must have made the local constabulary hustle.”
    Pain gripped her, a pain almost as unbearable now, two years later, as it had been that bright summer day when her dreams shattered. “You might think so,” she began, “but they weren’t called in for almost three days.”
    “What!” Astonishment widened Peter’s eyes. He held up a hand to stop her words. “Did you say three days? Or did you mean three hours?”
    A remnant of anger made Nina dig her fingers into the worn upholstery of her chair. She drew a hard breath, traced the outline of a faded acanthus leaf in the print fabric, and finally looked up at him. “No, I said—and meant—three days. Sheriff Hayes was more inclined to listen to Danny’s mother, Marigold, than to a wife of one hour. Marigold was certain, still is, for that matter, that Danny just got cold feet, decided he wasn’t really ready for marriage, and took off. No sign of violence where he’d left the car, to suggest he’d been attacked or kidnapped. The car was gone, he was gone, and so was the bag he’d packed. But my bags, my pink suitcases that were his wedding gift to me, were neatly stacked beside the fence, in plain sight. So Marigold insisted we not involve the police. She was sure Danny would come back after he thought things over. She said to just give him time. On the third day, Uncle Eldon called Sheriff Hayes, but the sheriff talked to Marigold, saw her side of things, and said he couldn’t do anything if a man chose to duck out on a marriage he wasn’t sure he wanted. I don’t think he ever made much of a search, at least not for quite a while. By the time