George said, “Ms. Ailie, we drive all the time, but honestly, I’ve never changed a tire in my life.”
The others nodded in agreement. Curtis and McNeil always had chauffeurs when they traveled; if a car broke down, another would show up in twenty minutes. Changing a tire themselves? That was unheard of.
“Ms. Marchand, aren’t you a race car driver? You must know how to do this, right?”
Someone, a little too bold for their own good, threw out the suggestion. Violet lifted her chin, a faint, mocking smile on her lips.
“I have a professional pit crew for that,” she replied coolly. “There’s no need for me to get my hands dirty.”
In other words, even if she could do it, she certainly wasn’t going to.
“So I guess we’ll have to wait for roadside assistance. But I checked the weather—fog’s rolling in soon. Visibility will be awful, and it could take rescue hours to get here.”
Someone murmured that Mr. Langford and Mr. Garcia had both gotten stranded on the road before; what made them think they’d be any luckier?
But the prospect of sitting around for hours didn’t sit well with anyone.
Victoria had been standing quietly to the side. As the silence dragged on, she finally spoke up, her voice calm.
“How about I give it a try?”
Everyone—even Violet and McNeil—turned toward the sound of her voice in surprise.
No one had expected that suggestion to come from Victoria.
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