Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Erielle stepped out onto Sixth Avenue, the rhythm of New York pounding through her. Horns blared, heels clicked against concrete, and the low thrum of bass drifted from a passing cab. She reached over and squeezed Daisy’s hand, steadying both of them against the rush.
“Thank you for coming with me to meet with Rhys.”
She hadn’t seen Rhys in years, not since before her first restaurant. He’d never opened one of his own, but he had a knack for spotting promise in people who would, and he’d made his fortune investing in the right dreams. Including hers.
She’d resisted asking for help when she’d lost everything.
Stubborn pride had kept her silent while she tried to claw her way back.
But Phantom Bayou had taught her something she hadn’t expected—that leaning on people wasn’t weakness, it was connection.
And when she finally reached out, Rhys hadn’t hesitated.
He’d not only invested money on her behalf, but now he was offering her even more, as long as she put it to work.
So while her pride had taken a hit asking for help, at least she knew some of the money was hers.
Daisy was a little thunderstruck by the big city, cringed in on herself when people passed too close, like she was afraid of being swept away from Erielle.
But once they were at the edge of the sidewalk, she straightened and took it all in, the glass and steel buildings, the endless stream of people.
“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.
His shoulders relaxed a bit. “I thought, since you wanted a connection to your grandparents, to the memories of your summers here, I’d fix this up for you.”
She stepped back, taking in the new tires, the polished rims. Everything in her was ringing with joy. “You did this for me?”
“Well, and for me, too. My dad and I started the project. I finished when I came back from Baton Rouge.”
She pivoted to look at him. She didn’t know what to do with her hands that wanted to take him into her arms, not until she could be sure of why he was here, so she folded them across her. “How’s your mom?”
“Okay for now. Susan’s there with them, for a few days, anyway. I think Mom will be all right.”
“Will you?”
He humphed, his gaze drifting back to the moving van. “Heading out?”
She didn’t answer, instead grabbed his hand. “Come see, then we’ll go for a drive.”
She had to practically tug him up the sidewalk, up the steps, but this time she didn’t think it was fear of Millicent holding him back. No, he was afraid of something else. Of her?
Once inside, she released his hand and trusted him to follow her. He did, but slower than she would have liked. When she looked back, he was gazing toward the empty living room, the foyer no longer stacked with boxes of books.
“Dumpster’s gone,” he realized.
“Yes, they cleared out the last of the books yesterday,” she said brightly, and turned to the kitchen with a flourish worthy of Vanna White.
He stepped inside to see the shiny new appliances, not exactly state-of-the-art, because she hadn’t wanted to be reckless with the money now that she knew how hard it was to come by, but definitely an improvement on what had been there.
“You’re selling,” he said dully.
“No!” She turned to him. “No, I’m staying.”
“What?” The word came out on a breath, and he turned to look at her for the first time since he arrived. “You’re staying?”
She smiled and linked her fingers through his.
“I’m staying. I went to New York because you’re right, I am not good at asking for help, but we need help, right, the town does, so I went to ask for help and I found out I have some money set aside, invested, and so I hired someone to help me with the house.
The attic is empty. I saved a few pieces of furniture, but I’m going to replace it as I can. Can we go for a ride?”
She drove the big car the short distance down the road.
She smoothed her hand on the hard steering wheel, the dashboard with its split but clean plastic.
A little sizzle heated her finger, and one of the splits healed when she ran her touch over it.
She grinned to herself and glanced over to see if Sam had noticed. Apparently he had not.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d driven a car with a column shift—probably this one, when her grandfather, patient man that he was, taught her to drive. “My friend, Rhys, offered to invest in another restaurant for me.”
“You’re opening a restaurant here?”
“Lord, no, Hattie would put a hex on me. The next project is cleaning all these store fronts up. I’ve talked to Duval, and he’s willing to move to a bigger space but expand his products so he’s more of a grocery store.
Marie will help him, and of course, we’ll have professionals come in and set it all up.
We’re looking at getting a bakery. We’ll close down the diner for a few days and give it a good polish and upgrade.
Teresa, who has her salon in her house, she didn’t want to move to Main Street, so she’s going to stay where she’s at.
And Louis didn’t want any money to fix up Rumrunners, but since I worked there, I can understand that.
We’re looking at getting a few more businesses in, I’m not sure what.
I want actual shops that people can visit, you know, not like offices or whatever.
” The words poured out of her. She’d been waiting to share this with him.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d been waiting.
“And everyone’s okay with this?” Sam asked.
She slid him a look. “Well, you know how people in Phantom Bayou are. They’re reluctantly optimistic.”
“I didn’t know you were back. Pirate told me just a couple of hours ago.”
She nodded. “How long have you been back?”
“Four days. You’ve gotten a lot done in a short time.”
“The town deserves it.”
Sam got out of the car in a flurry of motion. Confused, she pushed open her door with more effort than she expected. She’d forgotten how heavy this car was. But once out, she joined Sam on the sidewalk.
“What’s going on, Sam?”
“I thought you were gone.”
“What?”
“I came home from Baton Rouge, and you were gone. You hadn’t said anything.”
She wanted to point out he hadn’t contacted her either, and she was giving him the space he’d asked for, but she’d rather get her story out before she heard his.
“Because when I woke up that night, after the ritual, I knew what I needed to do. And I realized I needed to ask for help in order to help, like everyone stepped up to help me. You know how hard it is for me to ask. So Daisy and I went. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon, not the way you said goodbye.
You said you needed space.” She didn’t mean it to come out so accusing, wished she could bite the words back.
“I talked to Susan while we were there in Baton Rouge. She told me to come back, to talk to you, to tell you—” He drew in a sharp breath. “To tell you what I’m thinking.”
She leaned back against the fender, folding her arms, lifting her chin to indicate she was all ears. “What are you thinking, Sam?”
His posture was rigid, his legs braced as he laced his fingers behind his head. She wondered if he realized he was forming a pentagram with his stance. Or maybe he was trying as hard not to touch her as she was trying not to touch him.
“I was scared that day. Terrified.” His voice started out soft.
“But as I think about it now, I wasn’t afraid of you, or of Millicent, or what we were doing.
I was afraid for you. I was scared something was going to happen to you because you’d opened yourself to it, and I didn’t know how to help, if that was the case.
And I realize, that’s what my dad feels too, about my mom’s power.
He’s not afraid of her. He’s afraid for her. Does that make sense?”
She nodded solemnly. “It does.”
“And I realized something else,” he went on, faster now. “I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it. If you’d said you were moving to New York for good, I’d have figured a way to go. If you wanted to leave the bayou tomorrow and never look back…I would have found a way to be there.”
She pushed herself off the fender to stand in front of him. “And if I decide to stay here?”
He took her upper arms in his hands, the contact sending a sizzle through her that made the magic she’d experienced the other day feel like nothing.
A smile quirked his lips. “Then you better believe I’ll find a way to stay here, to keep you out of trouble.”
She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his neck. “I have a feeling that won’t be as easy as you think.”
He was full-on grinning now as he shook his head. “Oh, of that, I have absolutely no doubt.”