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old Range Rover. If you could make that scrap heap look brand-new I figured there might be a chance for Black Beauty.”
    “Black Beauty?”
    His finely planed cheekbones reddened as he admitted that his car was indeed named as such.
    “People who love their cars always name them,” Alana assured him. “My crew will work wonders with your baby, so rid your mind of all concern. I appreciate your trust in me and Custom Classics and we will not let you down. Come inside and let me introduce you to the people who’ll be restoring Beauty. Everything’s going to be fine,” she added in a soothing voice.
    Roland had always loved the sound of Alana’s voice and he trusted her skills implicitly. But right now, more than anything else, he loved the feel of her hand in his because she hadn’t let go of him and he saw no reason to change that.
    * * *
    Roland was totally impressed with Custom Classics, and even more impressed with its owner. The place was immaculately clean, with polished windows and floors and not a speck of dust or clutter anywhere. The retail area of the showroom was neatly organized and labeled for easy shopping; the lounge area for customers was furnished with comfortable chairs, a flat-screen TV, a coffee bar and vending machines. Everything exceeded expectations for an automotive facility; there was nothing that wasn’t up-to-date and state-of-the-art in the building.
    Even her staff was top-of-the-line. He met the mechanics, a tall redhead named Rachel, a middle-aged man named Lorenzo and a young woman who looked like a runway model without the makeup and ridiculous heels. Her name was Tasha and she was as business-minded as she was gorgeous.
    He was also properly introduced to Tollie, who gave him an open, inquisitive smile that showed curiosity but no flirtation, which was a refreshing change of pace for him.
    By the time he’d met all the men and women who worked in the different areas, from body work to interiors to specialty painting, he was sure that if anyone could reassemble his dream car, it was the Custom Classics team of experts. He said as much to Alana as they walked back to her office.
    “I’m actually feeling much better now. I’ve been in an incredible funk since it happened. It was just out of the blue, completely unexpected. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I got the call about Black Beauty it was like hearing that someone had died. It was a tragedy, even though that’s a really extreme word for a car wreck. I thanked God that nobody was killed or seriously injured, but it was still like the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m embarrassed to be telling you all this stuff, but the truth is the light,” he said quietly.
    Alana invited him to sit down on the sofa and she sat next to him, putting her hand over his. Her next words surprised him.
    “You really loved your grandfather, didn’t you? And that car was a part of him, a symbol of everything he meant to you. Tell me about him.”
    Roland’s eyes lit up as he began regaling Alana with stories about the man who was such a huge part of his life. Talking to her was an incredibly cathartic experience, primarily because she was an active and attentive listener. But it was also because this was what he’d wanted, a chance to really be with her, get to know her. It would have been better if he hadn’t been rambling on like a loser dude in a chick flick, emoting all over the place about a damned car, of all things. It was time to regroup and quick.
    “Thanks for listening to me, Alana, I appreciate it. And I really appreciate you and your crew handling my car. Let me take you to dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”
    Alana didn’t hesitate in giving him an answer, although it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I’d love to, Roland, but this is take-out night. Adrienne is still staying with me and I don’t know if you’ve had much experience with pregnant women, but her mouth is set for barbecue