Drives Like a Dream Read Online Free PDF

taller than Davy's chest, she had to pull him down by the lapels when she kissed him on each cheek.
    Casper sat on the back of a fleur-de-lis-patterned sofa. "Don't mind my wife," he said, as M.J. gave Jessica a kiss. "In the last couple of years she's turned European."
    "I did grow up in Montreal."
    "That's Canada," Casper said.
    "Quebec," she corrected him. "My name is Marie Jeanette. I go by M.J. to accommodate my husband's limited memory."
    "So she likes French cookery." Casper buttoned his shirt to the top. "I'll give her that. She's always enjoyed those sauces."
    M.J. invited them to sit for a minute, and Jessica noticed that Mrs. Spivey also liked French furniture, toile fabrics, Louis XIV clocks, reproduction Manets and Rouaults, and period portraits of French girls with miniature dogs.
    "Your place is lovely," Jessica said.
    "She's an interior decorator," Casper put in. "She's on a one-woman mission to turn every room in Royal Oak into a Parisian salon."
    "For God's sake, put your trousers on," M.J. said, and her husband, who did not seem at all embarrassed to have answered the door in his boxer shorts, retreated obediently to the back rooms. "He's lived in Detroit his whole life," M.J. added. "Forty-two years putting out the good word for Ford." Her face was plump, her mascara brushed on thick. Her ankles swelled over her stylish T-strap shoes. "Two summers ago I took him to Europe for the first time. I'd been there several times with Ellen, but Casper could never pull himself away from the boardroom." She played with the beads of her necklace. "Wouldn't you know he'd start losing his vision before he saw Europe? It's a tragedy when an American stops seeing clearly, since sight is the only sense that Americans ever use."
    M.J. was still talking about Europe when Casper returned in a red tie and tailored charcoal suit.
    Jessica saw Davy glancing at the antique clock over the mantel. A little past noon. She wondered if her father was already at the church, sweating bullets.
    "Don't forget the flowers Ellen had delivered," M.J. said.
    Casper went to the kitchen and came back with a rose corsage and boutonniere.
    M.J. pinned the flower to her husband's lapel. "You know he's going to have to drive," she said, as if this had been assumed all along.
    Jessica looked over at Davy. "I think we should drive," she offered meekly.
    "I know you do, sweetheart. But you heard what I said about forty-two years. What's he supposed to do? Just hand over the keys?"
    Soon Casper and M.J. were pulling their black Lincoln Town Car out of the condominium complex and onto the street. Jessica and Davy followed in their father's Infiniti.
    "We should have gone with them," Jessica said.
    "Relax." Davy seemed unconcerned.
    "We shouldn't let them do this."
    "We don't even know these people."
    "You should drive up beside them. Make them pull over or something."
    "He's doing fine," Davy said.
    It was true. So far, so good. Casper's car stayed straight in its narrow lane. M.J. leaned into the driver's side, as if she were giving directions.
    "His back lights are blinking. He's pumping the brakes." Jessica put her hands on the dashboard.
    "He can't help it, Jess. We're in stop-and-go traffic."
    They were headed into the heart of Royal Oak. Both lanes were bumper to bumper. Lunchtime shoppers were out in droves. It was a perfect spring afternoon, warm with a gentle breeze—a lovely day for a wedding, Jessica thought for the first time.
    But it didn't matter how well Casper was managing. Jessica was letting her father down. He had given her a simple assignment: make sure that Ellen's parents arrive safely at the wedding. But here was Casper driving illegally. The cops could pull him over at any moment.
    At an intersection just ahead, Casper stopped at a yellow light. "That's it." Jessica ripped off her seatbelt.
    "What are you doing?" Davy yelled as his sister jumped out of the car. She ran to the passenger side of the Spiveys' Lincoln and tapped