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She pushes me back, holding me at arm’s length, getting a good look at me through eyes that flutter with false lashes. Her bottle-blonde hair is perfect, as always, fashioned into a flawless chignon, and her bracelets clatter as she gives me a gentle shake.
“There she is,” Ms. T sighs. “Lord, have I missed you, hon!”
“Likewise,” I reply, grinning wider. “I swear you’ve got a deal with the man downstairs, Ms. T, not the one up there.” I point up toward the cloudless sky. “Every time I see you, you look more beautiful.”
She shakes me a little harder. “Don’t you go cursin’ me like that, sugar! This face ain’t got nothin’ to do with no man down or up no stairs. It’s good genes and a big ol’ bucket of makeup that’s gonna need scrapin’ off when I roll on home later.” She bursts into laughter and pulls me into another squeeze. “You’re the one lookin’ so radiant it’s a wonder my face ain’t green with envy.”
“You shouldn’t tell lies, Ms. T. That’s not like you at all,” I tease, holding her tight.
“I ain’t tellin’ no lies. You just ask that handsome young fella standin’ right there with his eyes on stalks. Don’t even need no words: it’s written all over his fine face,” she replies, and my heart jolts, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But she’s not done yet. I thought she’d come to rescue me, but it seems she’s come to add fuel to the fire. “Is this the young buck I’ve been hearin’ so much about, hmm?”
I pull back, eyes wide. “Ms. T! I haven’t told you about any… young buck.”
“I’m only teasin’.” She flashes me a wicked wink and turns to Rowan, putting out her hand. “She ain’t told me even the tiniest little whisper about you, sweetheart, so you best do the tellin’ for her. Are you what’s keepin’ her down in Nawlins, away from my dear, pinin’ heart?”
I tug on Ms. T’s arm. “You’re the one who told me to move there!”
“And when have you ever done a darned thing I told you, hun? Stubborn as a mule, this one,” Ms. T continues, sharing a mischievous smile with Rowan, who already looks enamored. “Ms. Thibodeaux is the name, but if you call me anythin’ but ‘Ms. T’, we’re gonna have us a fallin’ out before we’ve even gotten to know one another.”
Rowan takes her hand, and in a gesture that makes Ms. T glow with pleasure, he kisses it. “Rowan Lauder, at your service.”
“Any relation to Estée? She’s got more than a little to do with me not looking like a clown show this afternoon.” Ms. T’s thin eyebrow shoots up.
“I wish,” Rowan replies, laughing. “And, sadly, I’m not the reason Summer hangs around New Orleans. Only recently got back there myself.”
Ms. T falters. “Then, have I cut in on a first dance here?” She frowns, as if her romance radar has glitched. “Awful sorry if I’ve jumped ahead a few steps, but I’ve been a bull in a china shop my whole life, and there’s no hope of changin’ it now. Set in my ways, this old girl.”
“No, no, wedoknow each other, but… it’s not like that,” Rowan says quietly. His eyes find mine, and the smile on his lips is bittersweet, sending that swarm of wasps in my belly into a fresh frenzy.
It’s not like that?There’s a pinch of disappointment in my chest, plucking at the thin muscle between my ribs. I guess I’m the only one whose thoughts have wandered back to that night in my apartment. No idea why I thought I’d have crossed his mind. Presumptuous, really, to think any different.
Ms. T sweeps a dramatic hand across her brow. “Lord, thank the heavens for that! Thought I’d intruded on a meet-cute, though I ain’t fully convinced I haven’t.” She casts a knowing look between me and Rowan. “Now, let me get a drink from one of these fine-feathered gentlemen over here, and we’ll have us a game of twenty questions. You can tell me all about how you know my Summer, Rowan, and how she’s been farin’ while she’s been away. Summer, you can fill in the blanks. Oh, and Mr. T is hidin’ somewhere ‘round here, and I know he’ll be keen as a bean to see you again. Hasn’t stopped talkin’ about you since he woke up this mornin’.”
She orders a drink, and before I can slow the freight train that is Ms. T, she grabs Rowan’s hand and drags him down the last set of stone steps to the lowest terrace. He lets himself be hauled away, casting a glance back over his shoulder at me, but I can’t read the expression on his face. Terrified, maybe? But of what?
Of spooking you again, or doing the wrong thing,my mind whispers, as I hurry after them. Ms. T is going to dig as deep as she can, and I plan to be the bedrock, stopping her from scratching too far beneath the surface of what I’ve been up to… and who Rowan is to me. After all, even I don’t know that yet.
“Remember what happened the last time?” I murmur under my breath, watching Ms. T’s skirt swish from side to side as she parades Rowan down the steps.
That long-ago summer, she gave fate a helping hand, passing Ben’s number on to me when he came to find me, using nothing but the mention of “bookstore.” Without her, I might never have met him again. And it seems she’s playing the role of fate’s envoy yet again, reading between the lines as any good bookshop owner should.
Fate…My heart flinches; a gasp halting me for a second. For two years, Fate has been my enemy. I’ve hated it with everything I am, for giving me Ben and stealing him away again. But this is the second time in as many days that I’ve thought about it through a rosier lens. As I consider why, Cybil’s words yesterday come creeping back in:“I know that if fate exists, it is keeping score, and you have earned more than enough points for a second win.”
But am I ready for a second chance? Maybe, fate isn’t giving me the choice.
20
ROWAN
“Would you look at that—these pesky glasses have gone and emptied themselves again!” Ms. T crows, wielding a bottle of champagne with all the skill of a woman who used to work silver service, her thumb lodged in the hollow at the base. “Might dress up your servers like deb escorts, but if they can’t keep a glass full, they might as well be wearin’ nothin’ at all.” She winks at me, and I blush like a schoolboy passing a note to his first crush.
It's impossible not to love Ms. T. Lyndsey used to talk about her when I was away, and I never believed she could be a real person. Honestly, I thought Ms. T was a complete fabrication. Turns out, she’sexactlyas described on the label, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Or drunker. Ms. T knows how to keep a glass full. Mine hasn’t been empty since I met her, and though she’s been keeping pace, she’s not even tipsy. “Hollow legs,” as my old man used to say.
“Last drops.” Ms. T sips them right from the bottle and grins. “I’m gonna see if I can’t fetch us a fresh bottle. Might as well since it’s free. Ought to find that husband of mine an’ all. He’ll be around here somewhere, talkin’ the ear off one of those fine folks. Golf, most likely. He doesn’t play, but he watches. Not sure what’s worse.” She cackles as she wanders off, leaving me and Summer alone. Oscar wandered off a while back, likely to throw up in a bush after the constant refills, but I can’t say I’m mad about some privacy.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Summer says first, surprising me. I was certain I’d have to be the one to break the ice.
I nod, downing what’s left in my glass. My mouth is furry from all the bubbles, but the buzz is kind of nice. Encouraging. “She’s definitely a character. I can see why you’re all besotted with her. Even Grace wouldn’t stop going on about the bookstore and Ms. T and picking out a book. I didn’t get it until now.”
