“Well, I say you’ll have no trouble turning heads whenever you’re ready to date again.” Trish spun her chair to face the mirror as she shut off the dryer. “What do you think, sexy woman?”
Erin smiled. The hair did look great, even if what stood out to her the most was the sadness in her eyes. With an effort, she blinked it away and tried to be positive.
“You’re a hairdressing genius in addition to being a good friend.” Standing, she left her apron in the chair and followed Trish to the register.
Outside, she could see her car parked on the street and—strangely—a basket beside it. She’d been planning to stop by the store before going home for the day, but the basket made her curious.
“Want me to make an appointment for you in six weeks?” Trish asked, already checking her appointment book.
“Can I call you?” Erin left extra cash on the counter. “I just remembered. I have to get going.”
“Well sure, hon,” Trish was saying. “Hey, Erin, you left way too much…”
But she was already out the door, drawn by a basket that looked like a picnic hamper. And it wasn’t just sitting on the street as if someone had left it by accident. The red-and-brown woven container was balanced on the hood of her car, close to the windshield.
She looked up and down the street to see if anyone was around. Main Street was quiet for midday, however. The front door of Last Chance Vintage was open, and she could hear the country music Heather liked floating on the breeze, but other than that, the storefront was still.
As she crossed the street and neared the car, she could see a note taped to the top of the basket—“I have a much better surprise for you this time.”
The words were scrawled in thick black marker in—she was almost positive—Remy’s handwriting. Besides, who else would leave a note about surprises?
Her pulse kicked into high, hopeful gear way too fast. She should be careful about this. Cautious. Wary. He’d hurt her before, after all.
Yet, her trembling hands didn’t care what her head said. She lifted the hamper lid. Taped inside the top was another note. But this one was scribbled in her handwriting, the very same instructions she’d left for Remy that last day they’d been together—directions to the Harpeth River for the fishing trip she’d suggested.
What on earth? She had only a moment to wonder what he had in mind. Inside the picnic basket was a bottle of wine—the same Chianti he’d brought to her house that first night. Cheese and crackers—the cheese was stillcool—and some grapes. There were glasses and silverware, plates, napkins and a bakery box that could only contain one thing.
Cupcakes.
A small gasp escaped her lips. Hopeful tears burned her eyes, the feeling so much different than all the tears she’d shed in the past four weeks.
Underneath all of it, she found an MP3 player with a note taped to it. “Play me.”
The note was in Sarah’s handwriting. The letters were colored with purple stripes of ink. So, gathering up her basket and the tattered remains of her hopeful heart, she put everything inside her car and headed for the Harpeth River.
Hands still shaking, she plugged in the MP3 player and hit the only icon on the screen, labeled “Erin’s Songs.” There was a short list of titles in French. Or more likely, Cajun. But the first on the playlist was labeled “From Sarah.”
“Hi, Erin.” Sarah’s voice filled the car as Erin drove east out of town. “I sneaked in a quick heads-up to you because even though Dad is super excited about his surprise, I know he’s also really nervous. And I’m excited and nervous, too, and hate it that I can’t be there to see how things turn out. But—amazingly—I have a college interview this week.”
Erin smiled as she listened, her heart in her throat to think about Sarah and Remy planning a surprise for her.
She missed them so, so much. She put on her signal light for the left hand turn.
“Anyway, I want you to know I miss you and love you no matter how today goes, okay? I’ll tell you about my interview if you’d like to hear. But the main thing I wanted to tell you is this. Dad is trying. I’m not just saying that because he’s my dad, either. He’s likereallytrying.”
Erin listened for a few more minutes as Sarah chatted about how much she missed Tennessee and Lucas. About how she wanted to decorate her dorm room with mirrors like the one Erin had given her. And also about her graduation ceremony and the creepy teacher who tried to hit on her dad and how Sarah had to throw herself between them to prevent the woman from using the occasion as an excuse to kiss his cheek.
By the time she reached the pull-off for the fishing spot, Erin felt she’d had a good pep talk from a friend. A friend she hoped would be a much bigger part of her life.
The parking area sat empty except for one white Lincoln with out-of-state plates that had to be a rental car. Still, she remained in her seat with the doors locked while she took in the scene. Bayou music played on her MP3 player—fiddles and accordions that would make her feet tap if she wasn’t so nervous.
A canoe floated in the water, tied to a short wooden dock. A mouthwatering man sat in the boat, his profile so achingly familiar she knew every nuance of expression on his face as he turned his gaze to her. A blanket had been spread on the seat facing him. An antique parasol, which happened to be for sale at Last Chance Vintage just yesterday, rested at an angle to shade the empty seat. Fishing poles and a small silver tackle box were tucked behind him.
Standing carefully, he stepped out of the boat and jogged up the hill toward her. Her heart beat with new purpose, as if it had been in a state of suspended animation for the past four weeks and only just now recalled how to function the right way.
“You came.” He stopped just short of her, his hazel gaze roaming all over her. “Thank you for that.”
He seemed relieved. And yes, nervous.
