Page 147

/> Or, condescendingly, Susan wondered, at a stupid female who doesn’t have enough brains to check the oil? Well, if that’s it, I deserve it. Not checking the oil was stupid.

Matt put the oil in. It took three quarts, and half of a fourth.

“It was just a little low, I would say,” Matt said.

“Okay. You were right and I was wrong. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, I guess, and just didn’t check.”

“I have a sister who does the same sort of thing,” he said with a smile.

“Anyway, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Can I make a request?”

“Request.”

“A truce until after dinner? Hostilities can resume immediately after the second cup of coffee.”

“Okay,” she said after a just perceptible hesitation.

Why not? What’s playing the bitch with him going to accomplish?

“Deal?” Matt asked.

He put out his hand and, without thinking about it, she took it. His hand was warm and strong.

“Deal,” Susan said. She was aware her voice sounded strange.

“Good,” he said. “Then pay the man, fair maiden, and we’ll be on our way.”

He got behind the wheel and closed the door.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you drive?” Susan demanded.

“Because we are in a state of truce,” Matt replied. “And also maybe because you are grateful I kept you from running out of gas.”

Why not? Same reason as before.

She gave the attendant her credit card, signed the form, and got in beside him. She was a trifle amused at the care with which he adjusted the driver’s seat.

He pulled out of the station, and she saw that he was better working the gears than she was.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To the only decent restaurant I know around here. Except, of course, the Penn-Harris. They gave me a very nice breakfast. My lunch was a disaster.”

“Where is this only decent restaurant?”

“Little town called Hershey,” Matt said. “They make chocolate there, you know.”

“I don’t want to go all the way out to Hershey.”

“Not to worry, fair maiden. We now have a full tank of petrol. And I’m driving.”

Susan elected not to make an issue of it.

He got on U.S. 422 and immediately pushed harder on the accelerator.

“You’re going to get a ticket,” Susan said.