Evelyn leaned her head out of the SUV window.

“Mark,” Evelyn shouted.

“It’s twenty minutes to four.

The hotel clerk says the reservation system resets at four o’clock sharp.”

Mark stared at me for another second, waiting for me to fiddle with my silver watch, or look away, or offer him some kind of compromise.

I stood plain and still beside the tailgate of my father’s truck.

Mark turned around, walked across the dirt yard, and pulled open the passenger door of the crossover.

He got in, pulled the heavy door shut, and leaned his forehead against the passenger window.