“Where’s Tiffany?” I asked, dropping my keys into the brass bowl on the hall table.

“She went to the dealership on West End,” Chloe said, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“She said she was sick of driving that old utility vehicle around town.”

“Which dealership?” I asked.

Chloe checked her reflection in the glass door of the china cabinet beside the couch and ran two fingers along her jaw.

“The German one.

The white convertible with the red leather seats.”

“That car runs sixty-two thousand dollars,” I said.