Later that afternoon, they all had lunch outside. It was a beautiful day and the drivers gathered around the wicker picnic table in the shade of the garage, and munched on burgers taken from La Cruz diner. Roscoe enjoyed eating them and feeling the bits of him grow back. Wooster wolfed down his burger and Angel sipped a cold beer from the icebox, while Felix poured Snowball a bowl of milk before joining them at the table. Quarter carefully folded a handkerchief over his lap to catch the stains before digging in. Doris emerged next, carrying a tray of sandwiches. Betty took the tray from her and set them on the table.

“Thank you, Doris. But you know, you don’t have to do that kind of thing, if you don’t want to.”

Doris stared at her, her electric eyes blinking.

Wooster burped loudly. “She’s a metal maid. What else is she gonna do?”

“She can work on engines, work on guns,” Roscoe said. “You can train her. We’re gonna need more hands around the garage, after all―since I’ve moved upstairs.” He looked at his weathered hands as he thought about that. Nothing would beat the joy he felt when he could make a motor work, but he knew that being the leader of Donovan Motors might require other priorities. “She can do whatever she wants.”

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