Better Than New

Act 3

Friday, January 1st, 2:15pm

"Hi, Val speaking."

"Did I embarrass myself badly last night?" It was a voice from the bottom of a gravel pit. Doreen was obviously suffering.

"No, Doreen, you didn't. You had fun. You let loose and had fun. And so did I."

"Are you sure. I have some very strange memories from last night. How did I get home?"

"Well, you were very tired, so I brought you home and made sure you were comfortable."

"I was still wearing my dress when I woke up this morning. Was I that out of it?"

"Well, to tell the truth ... yes."

"Oh, god, I'm so embarrassed. I apologize, Val. I'll never do that again, I promise."

"Darn ... I had a great time last night. We danced and really enjoyed ourselves. I even got a kiss from you at New Years."

"I remember that. I'm not upset about that. It's what I can't remember clearly that worries me."

"Well ... let's see. You did ask me to marry you. You said I was your knight in shining armor, and then you said I was your husband. Other than that, not much really happened."

"Oh my god. I didn't ... did I?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh, this is awful. I can't begin to apologize to you. I never do anything like this. I feel terrible about it."

"Doreen ... relax. It was fun. You had a couple of glasses of champagne and it made you a bit silly. No harm was done. It was fun. I know I enjoyed myself, and if I get the chance, I'd love to go dancing with you again."

There was silence at the end of the line until, "Thank you, Val. I did have a good time. Maybe too good."

I caught the upbeat tone of her voice, telling me she wasn't worried about how I reacted to her actions.

"So ... maybe when the opportunity arises, you'd come dancing with me again?"

"Maybe, if you promise not to ply me with champagne."

"I promise."

Tuesday, January 12th, 8:15am

"Good morning, Valentine. I trust you are well?"

"Just fine, thank you, Warren. How can I help you?"

"I thought perhaps we should discuss the future plans for the two automobiles. Would you have some time this week?"

"I'll make time. What's convenient for you?"

"Well, if we could meet this afternoon, I'd like to talk about what it will take to make these vehicles mobile again."

"Yes, good idea. Would you mind if I brought my father with me. He's the mechanical expert and would keep us from making any mistakes."

"Excellent idea. Why don't you call him and see when he could free himself? It sounds like you and I have the most flexibility."

"I'll do that immediately and call you back."

After I had hung up, I dialed the service station and asked for my father.

"Hi, Dad. Do you think you could take some time this afternoon to come with me and meet Warren Beeson? He wants to put the two cars he has in running condition and I think your advice will be helpful."

"Sure. I'd love to. I was wondering if I'd get a chance to see five million bucks worth of automobile. How about two o'clock?"

"That'll be great, Dad. I'll pick you up. Warren will be expecting us."

I hung up after a couple of more minutes of chit chat and then immediately dialed the Beeson residence.

"Warren, my father and I should be there about two-fifteen. I think he's pretty excited about seeing these cars too. It didn't take him long to find the time to be there."

"Good! We can get started as soon as he's able." I got the distinct impression that the two cars had rekindled some excitement in Warren Beeson's life, and he was motivated toward getting them in running condition. He certainly was livelier than our first meeting last December.

"So, the great Warren Beeson needs my help, does he?" my father noted with a smirk as he slid onto the front seat of the panel van. He had loaded two tool boxes into the back.

"Me too, Dad. Wait until you see these cars. They are something to behold. The last thing I want to do is screw this up."

"Yeah ... I'll bet. You and Warren wouldn't be such great buddies then, would you?"

"This is bugging you, isn't it? I mean, my business relationship with Warren is eating at you. How come?"

"Aw ... don't pay any attention to me. I'm just jealous. He wouldn't give me the time of day, likely. He still carries a lot of weight in this town. It can't do you any harm to be on his good side."

"Or you either," I grinned. "He respects what we do, and he trusts me now. You put yourself in the same position and you never know what can come of it."

I heard a 'harrumph' from my father, but nothing more. I knew he wouldn't do anything to screw up this meeting, so I relaxed.

We walked up to the factory door after parking the van next to the building and entered. Warren was inside and had uncovered the cars.

"Good afternoon, Valentine. And you must be Mr. Keating, senior."

"Just call me Dave. Everyone does. Nice to meet you, Mr. Beeson," my father said as he put down the two tool boxes and shook Warren's hand.

"Nice to meet you too, but please call me Warren."

My father nodded.

"Would you like to have a look at the cars? I've arranged some extra lighting so that you can inspect the workings more closely."

"Good idea. I brought my work light with me, so I can have a good look at the insides. I also have a set of metric tools. I'm sure I'll need them on these cars."

I watched my father put the fender blankets on and check to make sure there was no metal or buttons exposed on his smock. He started on the Mercedes after I showed him how the hood latches worked. He spent several minutes just inspecting the engine bay before switching off his light and turning to us.

"They just don't make cars like this any more. It's like trying to compare a Timex to a Rolex. It ain't fair. Do you know if there's an owner's manual for this one?"

"Yes ... we found one in the trunk," I said as I retrieved it and passed it to my father.

He thumbed through it for a few moments.

"Well, it's all in some foreign language, German I guess, but I think I can figure it out from the diagrams. You could damn near build this car from this manual," he said, shaking his head in wonder.

I turned to Warren and asked, "Did the new tires and tubes arrive?"

"Yes ... they're over here," he said, walking to another area.

I looked them over and checked the size compared to my notes. They matched. The tires were Continentals, looking very much like the originals. One less problem to worry about.

"Where would you like me to work on these?" Dad asked.

"Why, I hadn't thought of that. What do you suggest?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to bring them to my shop. I'd say for now, we can work here if I make a few arrangements. I don't want to spill anything on these floors. I'm going to have to jack these cars up to remove the wheels. Then we can go to work on mounting the tubes and tires and at least make them moveable.

"After that, I'll need to check the brake lines, cooling system hoses, fuel lines, oil pan ... the works. No point in puttin' new fluids in if the hoses and lines blow out when we do. Looks like we'll need a new battery for each of them too. I suppose it'll be a six volt."

"Dave, can I hire you to do this work? You seem to know exactly what to do, and that's very important to me," Warren said. "If your son is a product of your teaching, then I'm confident that you'll do a good job."

"Nice of you to say that, Warren. Yes ... I think I can find the time. Hell ... I may never get another chance to work on million dollar cars, so I'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity. You got a deal," he said, holding out his hand.

"Thank you," Warren replied, smiling as he shook my father's hand. "I feel a lot better now. Keating and Keating make a very good team."

My father smiled broadly as he nodded agreement, looking over at me. I hadn't seen my father this enthusiastic about a project in a long time. I was glad he was going to get the chance.

Friday, January 15th, 3:30pm

"It's hard to believe you've been here six months already, Doreen. It hardly seems like yesterday when you first came here. I don't know what to say other than I'm super-happy with how you've taken to the job. You're a lot farther ahead than I expected. You have good instincts and I have total confidence in you. I really can't think of a negative at all. You'll see another five percent raise in your next pay. It's fully deserved."

"Thank you, Val. I'm enjoying every minute of this job. It's everything a job should be. I like the challenge and the satisfaction I get from it. You listen to my suggestions, then you let me try them, even sometimes when I get the impression you don't think they're going to work," she chuckled. "Just the same, I get all the support from you and the men that I could ever ask for. Thank you and I hope we just keep going the way we're going."

"What's your early assessment of the three new guys in Resto'?" I asked.

"Well, they've only been here a couple of weeks, but so far, so good. Two of them look like self-starters and seem to get along well with the other guys. The third one, Beauchamp, is a bit of a loner. I'll keep an eye on him. When do you think the new addition will be ready?"

"Still on track for April 15th. I've already taken a couple of new customers based on our three new men and the additional space. Don't forget, when Dad finishes with Warren's two cars, we're going to bring them here for safe keeping. We've got 24 hour patrol and this building is a lot more secure than the old factory thanks to our security system. Plus, I want to detail them to get ready for some concours showings."

"What does concours mean?"

"Concours d'Elegance. Fancy name for a car show for rich people. These cars have never been shown, and it's a way to let the serious collectors and the various collector magazine people know there are a couple of new kids on the block."

"Does Mr. Beeson intend to sell them?"

"I don't know. I thought so at first, but now I'm not so sure. If you saw how energized he is now compared to when he first came here, you'd understand. I guess we'll have to wait and see. I won't bother to guess what Trip would like him to do ... or if he even knows about them."

"Why don't you just get a gun and shoot him?" she taunted.

"Who?" I asked, startled at her comment.

"Trip, of course. You haven't got a good word to say about him, and yet you and his father are close. What is it about him that pisses you off so much?"

I sighed. It was time I came clean with Doreen about my relationship with Trip.

"My wife ... ex-wife ... had an affair with Trip. I didn't know anything about it until she came to me asking for a divorce. She was trading up. She was going to marry Trip and live the life of a wealthy woman."

Doreen had a funny look on her face. "I knew Trip had a girlfriend, but her last name wasn't Keating."

"No. It's Engblom. She kept her maiden name after we married. She was in the sales department at Beeson. I don't know who seduced who, but Trip knew me and knew Monica was married to me. I'm not sure he didn't do it just to spite me. Anyway, as mad as I was at Monica, I was just as pissed off with Trip. Both of them deserve each other."

"Other than that, no hard feelings, huh?" she smirked.

"I guess it shows. I've been able to forget about it for the last six months, ever since the divorce became final. But once in a while, his name comes up and I see red all over again."

"You've got to put it into your forgotten past, Val. You're too good a guy to let those two aggravate you. I happen to think Monica made a very stupid mistake, one she can't ever take back. The woman would have to be a fool to give up a guy like you for a jerk like Trip."

I laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. What do you say we call it another good week and go home?"

"All in favor say aye," she said, rising from her chair and stretching. It was a pleasure to watch. Doreen was an attractive woman and I was wondering what it would take for her to agree to a date with me. Maybe a little dancing? A little champagne? No ... not champagne. I'll have to think about it.

Tuesday, January 19th, 7:05am

"So far, I've only had to change the two 'rad' hoses," my father explained. "Everything else looks pretty good. Did you know this machine has a supercharger? From what I can read on the internet, you can turn it on or turn it off. Independent rear suspension, too. Looks like a heavy-duty version of an old Volkswagen swing axle. I need to change some seals in the transmission and water pump. They'll need to be custom cut. I'm getting that done this week.

"I pulled the plugs and sand blasted them and gapped them as per the manual. They didn't really need it, but there was no point in not doing it. I found a couple of batteries for the Mercedes, but I'm still looking for one for the Bugatti. I hope we don't have to do any adapting to get one to fit. Warren's made it clear that the more authentic everything is, the more valuable it is."

"So it's Warren, now, is it? I kidded.

"Yeah. You know, he's not a bad guy. He doesn't try to run the show or tell me how to do my job. He's not squawking about the prices I'm paying for some of this stuff. He just says 'Do it!' I could use a few more customers like him."

"I see the wheels are now mounted with tires. They look good."

"Yeah. I'd forgotten about tubes and seating them in the tire. I had to be careful, but we got them all done."

"When do you figure you'll be able to add the fluids?"

"Well, soon as we get the transmission and water pump seals, I should be able to finish her up. The brake fluid is already in, and I checked the fuel pump and it looks fine. Maybe this weekend."

"Make sure Warren is here for it every step of the way, Dad."

"Don't worry. I got that message," he grinned.

"Have you looked at the Bugatti yet?"

"Just gave it a quick going over. That one scares me. No manual, so I have to make some educated guesses from what I can learn on the internet. It's got something called a dry sump. No oil pan. It's going to take a little longer to set that one up. Them French guys didn't build cars the same way we did. Got some funny stuff I've got to figure out before I turn the crank."

"Good luck."

I walked out of the old factory with a smile on my face. Dad was spending a lot of hours there, putting the two machines into running order. He assured me the garage was doing fine and his lead hand, Robbie, was looking after things. Just like being on vacation, he told me. It was too, in a way. Dad was just as pumped up about this project as Warren was. I felt really good about this, and I knew Mom was just as happy. She said he was like a new man.

"Everything okay at the factory?" Doreen asked.

"Yup. Dad's doing fine. I think he's having the time of his life. I don't remember seeing him this happy about work. He and Warren are getting along great."

"Wonderful. Would it be alright if I went over to see the cars sometime? I've heard so much about them now, I just wondered what all the fuss was about."

"Sure. I'm going over later this afternoon. Why don't you come with me?"

"Thanks, I'd like that."

Tuesday, January 19th, 3:30pm

"Oh, Val, they're amazing. What is the black and white one?"

"It's a Mercedes Benz 540K."

"And the blue and black one?"

"A Bugatti Type 57. The Mercedes is German, and the Bugatti is French."

"I like the Bugatti. It's really kind of art deco in a way."

"Art Deco?"

"Yeah ... you know. It looks like something out of a Hollywood movie from the thirties. Maybe Greta Garbo or William Powell would step out of it. It doesn't look like the square boxes I remember from the movies. It has that sexy, slinky look that sets it apart. You wouldn't own one of these unless you smoked cigarettes in a holder, or wore a tuxedo."

I was chuckling away as she offered her praise to the ancient automobile. She never took her eyes off it, running her hands softly over the fender surfaces. I was about to say something in warning, but thought better of it. She was treating it with reverence.

"You must be an old film buff," I guessed.

"I'm not that old," she turned and teased.

"I mean the movies, not you."

"I knew that. Yes ... I do love the old movies. They were so ... staged. So ... formal. I guess it was because of the times. When these cars were built, the world was in the great depression. It didn't seem possible that people could own cars like this. But movie stars could. They lived in their own little dream world. No need to worry about where the next meal would come from. It was all so ... artificial."

During the entire conversation, she never took her eyes off the car. I decided then that I was going to arrange with Warren to have Doreen ride in the Bugatti. It would be something she would remember for a long, long time.

Monday, February 8th, 7:00am

I had gathered the employees together to make an announcement.

"Just a brief meeting to tell you about something special that will happen later this morning. We will become the guardians of two very rare, very expensive automobiles. The first, arriving today, will be a 1937 Mercedes Benz. Its potential value is over two million dollars."

I waited for the shock and surprise to subside.

"Needless to say, we need to treat this car with the utmost care and caution. They are owned by Mr. Warren Beeson Senior, of Beeson Industries. The second car will arrive later this month. These cars have been prepared after almost sixty-five years of storage. They are show cars, insured for over five million dollars."

Again, I waited for the murmurs and further surprise to die down.

"I want you to treat them like the jewels they are. They are irreplaceable. They will be moved to various shows to exhibit them, but returned here for secure storage. We are entrusted with their care and security. It's something very special for Better Than New. I know I can count on you to protect them. Thank you."

"They weren't expecting that," Doreen offered.

"No ... I'm sure they weren't. Are you worried?"

"No ... not really. Excited, but I think the guys will make sure they're safe."

"I'm betting on that in a big way."

"I got confirmation from the insurance company today. We'll let them know when we expect the second car. As of now, you're covered. But I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"How are you going to get them from here to where they are going to be shown?"

"Special transporter. We arrange for it in advance. They are specialists at moving exotic automobiles and carry their own insurance. Naturally, the more valuable the car, the more it costs to move, but I haven't heard a peep out of Warren about the costs. I've laid them all out for him, so he knows what to expect. This really is a rich man's hobby."

"Is you father still having fits over the Bugatti?"

"Not so bad now. He's been getting help on-line with some new acquaintances he's made. There's quite a community of experts out there, so they want to know all about what he's working on. He can't tell them everything, but he's getting the help he needs. There's a bunch of very curious people who want to know more about that car. There are only so many pre-war Bugattis left in this world, so the interest is very high."

"I really like your dad. He's very down-to-earth. He loves what he's doing too. He's exploring and learning something new. He's got a smile on his face no matter how frustrated he gets."

"Yeah, I saw that too. It has been really great for him."

Monday, February 8th, 10:45am

Tommy opened the big back door to the restoration shop. We heard the Mercedes before we saw it. It approached the door slowly and carefully, and I was delighted to see Warren driving it, my father sitting beside him. Warren killed the engine and they got out. Both of them were wearing smiles a mile wide. Four of our men, wearing cotton gloves, pushed the heavy machine into a pre-selected place in a corner of the room.