The finished Talbot Lago sat in the center of the shop, a vision of pre-war elegance resurrected. Its deep blue paint, the color of a twilight sea, held a liquid depth that seemed to pull the light from the room into its very essence. Every piece of brightwork, hand-polished to a soft, warm glow by Amelia, reflected the careful, loving labor that had gone into its rebirth. The car was no longer a collection of parts; it was a cohesive entity, a piece of rolling sculpture that hummed with a silent, potent energy, waiting only for a key to awaken the meticulously rebuilt engine slumbering under its long, louvered hood.
The client, Jean-Pierre, the grandson of the original owner, was due to arrive. There was no anxiety in the shop this time, only a quiet, profound anticipation. This was not a delivery; it was a homecoming.
