Maybe I should’ve tried harder to call her before now. Bonaventure Antiques has a website with a number listed, but I’m scared her grandmother will answer and it’ll be awkward. I found Micah on social media and thought of adding her as a friend, but I’m not sure if that’s creepy. I wish there were some kind of guide to modern dating that outlined exactly what to say and what to do on which dates. At first, I felt like I shouldn’t call because it was too soon, but now I feel like it’s been too long. This game is impossible to navigate.
I lean back on the couch and run my fingers through my hair. I’m way too old for this. Restoring a huge hotel that’s been neglected for thirty years is easier than trying to figure out when and whether I should call someone I’m interested in. It shouldn’t be this complicated. I like her. I should call.
There is one thing, though — Micah’s age. Fifteen years is a big difference. What if she wants kids? With a son in college, I don’t want to go back to being a dad to a little one. I’m looking forward to grandkids down the road, but that’s it.
I know I’m getting way ahead of myself. I need to focus on work and stop obsessing like a teenager.
I send a text to Jaxon and he agrees to meet me in Magnolia Row next Thursday. He and I will meet that morning, go to lunch, then see Wilhelmina in the afternoon. Hopefully I can sneak in an hour or so to go to Micah’s store and get a few pictures of the fountain, maybe talk to her grandmother about a price, and secure at least one more date if I haven’t already blown it.
In the meantime, I can’t get her out of my head. I can tell by the way she talks about things, the aesthetic of the store, and her style that she and I are cut from the same cloth. We both love old things—love their energy, their life. I’ve never met another woman quite like her. I could talk to her all day and stare at her all night.
Now I’m feeling creepy again.
I still can’t get a handle on having a crush. It’s scary and invigorating.
On top of that, I’m enraptured by the town of Magnolia Row. I love everything about it, and Micah is a living, breathing embodiment of everything the place has to offer. Coming back to my cold loft in the steel city was hard. I used to love where I live, but now I’m feeling homesick for a place—and a person—I’ve only spent a few days with.
I can’t wait to go back.
MICAH
It’s early Thursday morning, and though the weather is cooler thanks to the overnight rain, it left a thick, suffocating veil of humidity in the air.
Nana and I are busy taking inventory of how much space we have for new things. And by new, I mean new to us. We’re going to the estate sale tomorrow, to which Julian is giving us early access. He sent us photos of the house already, and to say it’s a goldmine would be an understatement. I’m not sure what these people did or how long they lived there, but they must have had deep pockets. There are so many items I want, most of them large and bulky. I told Nana I’m not above getting a storage unit if we fill up the rectory so we can get as much as we want.
I call Patsy’s husband, Garion, who runs a construction business. He assures me he and one of his crew will be able to meet us with a large moving truck late tomorrow afternoon if we need them to, which is good, since Nana and I obviously can’t move heavy furniture by ourselves.
I’m on my hands and knees on the floor, booty facing the front door of course, trying to find the plug for a lamp when the bell jingles, signaling someone has walked into the store.
I turn around and it’s Rhodes. Of course it is. I’m looking at him from around my big old booty when he smiles and waves.
I am humiliated. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I want to sink into the floor and melt like the witch inThe Wizard of Oz.
“Rhodes!” says Nana, exiting her office.
I stand, biting my lip and shaking my head. This was not the impression I wanted to make when I saw him again.
“Hello, Ms. Bonaventure.”
“Please, honey. Call me Barbara.”
He smiles. “Barbara.” He turns to me. “Micah, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
I nod, trying to forget he saw my rear-end in the air moments before. “You too, Rhodes.”
He turns to Nana. “Have you decided to sell the fountain? Just so you know, my client will pay whatever you ask, whether it’s working or not.”
“She’ll have to if she wants it,” says Nana, who returns to her office to get the paperwork for the fountain.
He returns his attention to me. “You look very nice today,” he says, and for a moment it seems like he’s blushing.
“Thank you,” I say before Nana comes back in the room.
She hands a folder to Rhodes. He opens it, raises his eyebrows, and says, “I think that’s fair for something this unique. Do you mind if I take some photos? I’m meeting with her this afternoon and would love to show her.”
“Absolutely,” Nana says. I back away from the fountain and stand in the office door with Nana to avoid being in the pictures.
“We can get afford a new air conditioner now,” she whispers, jabbing me in the side with her elbow.
