“That was some damn good pie,” she said. She was leaning against the trunk of the Pontiac Townes had been caressing and cussing into running condition a couple hours a day over the past few weeks. It was still a little rough around the edges, with patches of compound around two of the wheel wells contrasting the original, jet black finish. The moment he’d driven it out of barn and pulled to the front of the house, she loo...