Light streamed through the church’s stained glass. For a second, I believed Dad might walk in late, joking about Main Street traffic.
The eulogy was a blur. I spoke about Dad’s patience, his stubbornness, the way he kept everything he loved running long after others would have given up.
“Your father would have called that poetic.”
“Dad always said you don’t quit on the things you love, even when it gets hard. He fixed up his father’s Shelby, bolt by bolt, for 30 years. He never let it rust. He did the same for people, too — especially when we made it difficult.”
My voice trembled, but I kept going. He would’ve wanted that.
When it was over, I was one of the last to leave the sanctuary, Aunt Lucy at my side.
“I’ll meet you at the car, Hazel,” she said, ducking back for her purse.
I nodded. We were going to check in on Karen on the way home.
He would’ve wanted that.
I stepped into the sunshine — and froze. Dad’s Shelby wasn’t where I’d parked it. Instead, a battered flatbed sat idling in the space, ramps down. The ramps looked like open jaws.
I ran, my dress twisting. Karen was at the curb, sunglasses low, a thick white envelope clutched in her fist. Next to her stood a man in a faded cap, a clipboard tucked under his arm.
“Karen! What’s happening?”
She barely turned to face me.
“Hazel, it’s just a car. The buyer’s here. I sold it. Two grand, cash. He wanted it moved fast, and so did I.”
Dad’s Shelby wasn’t where I’d parked it.
Two thousand… for thirty years of bolts, blood, and Saturday mornings.
“You can’t be serious! You knew I’d need to drive home. This isn’t what Dad… he loved that car. You knew that!”
Karen’s lip curled. “Your father loved a lot of things that didn’t love him back. You’ll survive.”
Aunt Lucy’s voice cut through the lot. “Selling his legacy outside this church isn’t grief, Karen. It’s disgrace.”
The man shuffled his feet. “Ma’am, do you want the title now or —?”
“That car isn’t just a piece of metal,” I said. “It’s a part of this family. I can’t believe you. You didn’t just sell a car. You sold the last piece of him before he was even in the ground.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Family changes. Get in, Hazel. I’ll give you a ride,” Karen shot back. “You know, your father would have understood.”
I stood firm, feeling the world tilt.
“Not without answers, Karen. Not today.”
I wanted to hate her. I needed her to be simple — greed with a face I could point at. But the way her hands shook around that envelope told me this wasn’t just theft. This was panic. And panic makes people do irreversible things.
Maybe grief makes monsters. But she chose the lie. She chose today.
“Your father would have understood.”
I stared after the flatbed as it turned the corner, the Shelby’s silhouette shrinking in the distance. I pressed my palms to my knees, fighting the urge to scream.
All week I’d thought: get through the funeral, then it would settle.
Instead, everything I had left of my dad was disappearing down the road.
Aunt Lucy hovered, clutching her purse. “Hazel, come sit down. You’re shaking.”
I slumped onto the curb, elbows on my thighs, head bowed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Karen pacing at the lot’s edge, sunglasses off now, jaw tight.
I stared after the flatbed as it turned the corner.
For a second, I thought she’d just leave, but instead she drifted toward the cemetery gate, staring at the row of fresh flowers by Dad’s new grave.
I fidgeted with my house keys. My phone buzzed — a friend asking if I needed a ride home, someone else sending a photo from the service.
I ignored them all.
My chest burned with regret. Maybe if I’d just argued with Karen harder or brought the title with me or…
A tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away, glancing over as Karen crouched by Dad’s headstone. I saw her lips moving. Maybe she was praying, maybe apologizing… maybe both.
I ignored them all.
Could I offer the buyer more money? Go to the police?
I felt so helpless.
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