I sigh heavily and shoot her a look, letting her know I am done with this conversation. “Are you ready to go?”
“I reckon,” she says, shaking her head.
She walks into the office, leaving me alone in the store. The air seems to have shifted, like Rhodes walked in and charged the energy in all these old beautiful items. Now he haunts the space, and I’m standing in his wake.
RHODES
Ileave the antique shop in a daze. The store itself was beyond all my wildest expectations. Every piece is valuable, unique, and carefully curated. And Micah…
Micah is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s tall, probably five ten if I’m guessing correctly. I can actually talk to her without stooping down. She has a wild mane of bright red hair, smooth skin, and the most vibrant emerald eyes. When she was showing me the art nouveau buffet table, all I could think about was how the color in the green tile matched the colors in her irises. No wonder it’s her favorite piece. She has great taste. Apart from the fountain, that table is probably the most expensive thing in the store.
She looks young, probably too young for me, but I’m a terrible judge of age. Besides, I haven’t dated in over twenty years, so I wouldn’t even know where to start. She wasn’t wearing a ring. I did note that.
Everything about this town has me buzzing. I decide to stay one more night and drive back to Birmingham tomorrow. Once I get back to my hotel, I’ll send a few emails, then take a walk downtown to get a better feel for the place.
Maybe I’ll run into Micah.
She’ll probably be out with a boyfriend or partner or someone who lives here and has known her for her entire life. Someone I can’t compete with.
But maybe not, since she wasn’t wearing a ring. I hold onto that thread like a kid holding a balloon string.
This is strange. I haven’t had a crush since my ex-wife, before we were married and in college. I forgot how quick it happens, how it takes over your entire mood and train of thought. I’m way too old for this. I’m forty-five, not twenty.
Once I get to my room I shower, email a friend in Atlanta who may know how to get the fountain up and running, send a note to Mrs. Caxton to let her know I found the fountain, and reach out to a contractor acquaintance in Savannah who specializes in old building restoration. Hopefully he can help me find the right workers for this project.
I’m so excited I feel high. I’ve never done drugs in my life, but I think this is probably how it feels. Everything is beautiful and there’s nothing but good things to come. This is exactly the kind of project I dreamt of when I started my own firm, and it landed in my lap with very little effort on my part. I’m the luckiest man in the world.
I leave the hotel wearing a blue polo, jeans, and boat shoes. With a spring in my step, I head downtown. I decide to grab a bite to eat at the little barbeque joint again and think about checking out the local brewery on the river. Maybe I’ll meet some locals who can tell me stories about the hotel. I make a mental note to put an ad in the paper and on social media for stories about the building. Maybe we can incorporate them into a publicity campaign.
I shake my head. PR is beyond the scope of what I was hired to do. I’m so excited to be working on this project I can’t help myself. I feel like a kid again.
When I get downtown, I have trouble finding a parking spot. For such a tiny town, Magnolia Row seems to have a decent nightlife. Once I find a place to leave the car, I make my way past a few teenagers in Magnolia Row High School t-shirts and follow my nose for food. The entire town smells like smoked meat and my stomach is roaring. I scan the faces I pass but don’t see anyone familiar.
But honestly, there’s really only one I’m looking for.
MICAH
After we close the store, I drive my grandmother to the home we share on the other side of town. She talks about the architect the entire way.
“I’m just saying,” she says. “He was a tall glass of water if I’ve ever seen one. Honey, if I were your age?—”
“Nana, please stop!” I shake my head and try to pay attention to the road.
“I’d sink my claws into him and not let go. He’s got a calm, debonair way about him, like Cary Grant or Robert Redford. Like he stepped out of Old Hollywood, you know?”
All I can do is shake my head, but she keeps going.
“Honey, a man like that will kiss you like it’s a sin, then hold you all night to protect you.”
“Nana—"
“He’ll buy you nice jewelry, put you up in a fancy house, and then when the lights go out?—"
“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to talk about the architect anymore.”
“He’d be better than what’s-his-name in Montgomery.”
“Garrett. You know his name.”
