Gemotions

"So, the antique car collection goes to you, Ms. Evans," the executor said, shuffling papers. He adjusted his glasses, peering at Eleanor over the rims. Her sister, Clara, across the room, was fiddling with the pearl necklace she’d inherited. Eleanor let out a long sigh of contentment.

A flush of warmth spread through her. The cars. Decades of her father’s passion. His labor of love. The legacy she now got to protect.

She couldn’t help but smile. Clara, though, had always hated the oily smell of the garage. The thought of her sister maintaining these beautiful machines had been a source of constant anxiety.

The executor continued his monotonous speech, but Eleanor was lost in thoughts of chrome and leather, the hum of engines, the open road. At long last, things were right. She had her father’s heart.