The Art of Racing in the Rain

by Garth Stein

you would be testing the vehicles.” Denny’s eyes got extremely large and he sucked in a huge breath of air, as did I. Was this guy saying what we thought he was saying? “In Italy,” Denny said. “Yes. You would be provided with an apartment for you and your daughter. And of course, a company car—a Fiat—as part of your compensation package.” “To live in Italy,” Denny said. “And test-drive Ferraris.” “Si.” Denny rolled his head around. He turned around in a circle, looked down at me, laughed. “Why me?” Denny asked. “There are a thousand guys who can drive this car.” “Don Kitch tells me you are an exceptional driver in the wet weather.” “I am. But that can’t be the reason.” “No,” Luca said. “You are correct.” He stared at Denny, his clear blue eyes smiling. “But I would prefer to tell you more about those reasons when you join me in Maranello, and I can invite you to my house for dinner.” Denny nodded and chewed his lip. He tapped Luca’s business card against his thumbnail. “I appreciate your generous offer,” he said. “But I’m afraid certain things prevent me from leaving this country—or even this state—at the moment. So I have to decline.” “I know about your troubles,” Luca said. “That is why I am here.” Denny looked up, surprised. “I will keep the position available for you until your situation is resolved and you can make your decision free from the burden of circumstance. My telephone is on my card.” Luca smiled and shook Denny’s hand again. He slipped into the Ferrari. “I ...