He never had a chance to say “no”. She not only had a counterargument for every argument, but the reason for each one came out of her mouth before he could hit upon the argument in the first place. She gave him her keys, and took his car’s driver’s seat. They drove a parade-slow pace, she leading him, up a winding path past the old Motor Lodge and an immense parking lot for big-rig trucks.

It was less than a mile. Her place sat atop a ridge overlooking the whole area. A dance hall, ringed by a moat of white gravel. All the signs that could have given the place a name had been recently removed. Pieces of signage peeked out from a battered dumpster, the plywood ragged from their disassembly.

They pulled their vehicles into the closest spaces to the front doors. As he got out of her convertable, she stripped the balloons off the roll bar and handed them to him, so he had these as well as the bouquet she had given him.

“I don’t want people looking up here and thinking that this was still open.”