“It sure worked out for the best. I’m so happy you found out you had money set aside. Between your investments and the money he offered you. You know, you could use it to open a new restaurant, either here or in Louisiana.”
Erielle looked up at the skyscrapers towering overhead, let the sound of traffic and music and people wash over her. This used to be her dream, to live here, to be here, to be known here. But now she just wanted to go home. New York was crazy and energizing, but it wasn’t home.
They had another day in the city, though, and she had some newly discovered cash. She turned to Daisy with a smile she felt all the way to her soul. “Let’s go celebrate.”
Sam felt strange working on the car without his dad, and without knowing if Erielle would come back, even want to drive it. If she moved back to New York, she wouldn’t need or want a car, would she? Or need or want him.
But he was in this deep, and he had some time left on his FMLA. So he worked and worked and worked for hours, day after day, in the shade of the house where he’d grown up.
And between the new spark plugs and the replaced wires, he made some decisions.
“How’s it going?” Pirate asked from the end of the driveway.
Sam stood up so fast he banged his head on the open hood. “A little warning?” he scowled at his friend as he wiped his hands on the dirty kitchen towel his mother would never forgive him for using.
Pirate slapped the trunk of the big car. “Is it going to run again?”
Sam dropped the hood with a thunk and motioned for his friend to test out the driver’s seat. The interior wasn’t great, yet. It was as clean as he could get it, but there were still some tears in the seat he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet.
“Keys are in the ignition. Give it a go.”
Pirate gave him a wary gaze as he lowered himself into the car, wrinkled his nose. “Smells a lot better than it did.”
“I shampooed that carpet three times,” Sam said with a grin.
Pirate tilted his head. “All for a girl who ran off to the big city.”
Sam’s chest tightened. “Yeah, well.”
Pirate said something else as he turned the key and the engine roared to life. Pirate sat back and laughed, then leaned around the open door. “Man, nothing like a V-8. Beautiful. You did a great job.” Pirate cut the engine, rose from the seat and tossed Sam the keys. “Might want to clean the bird crap off before you deliver it.”
“I have time,” Sam said with a sigh.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said she’s back. Saw her up at the house directing some fellas around.”
Sam’s heart sank. “Directing? Like, movers?”
Pirate grimaced. “Maybe? But she’s here. If you wanted her to see what you’ve been up to.”
Sam wasn’t sure what he wanted. The minute they talked, he’d know if she was staying or going. And he honestly didn’t think he could stand it if she went.
But Pirate was watching him. And Sam needed an answer. One way or another.
Plus, he just plain missed her.
“Grab the hose and give me a hand, will you?”
Erielle heard the familiar rumble of the engine as she stood on the porch of the house. Her house now. The movers she’d hired flowed past her, carrying out the old appliances, carrying in new. While she could wait on a new bed, she did not want to wait another minute to have a kitchen to cook in.
She leaned forward to see the gold Buick pull up in front of the house.
Her grandfather’s gold Buick.
She was down the sidewalk heading toward the gate before Sam could even get out of the car. His gaze lingered on the panel truck with the name of the movers from New Orleans, then he jerked his gaze to her.
She ran to the car, traced her hand over the sun-warmed roof, door, leaned over to peer into the interior. The engine idled with a familiar hum that filled her heart.
“Sam! What have you done?” she demanded, turning her head to look at him.
