Though, if Amelia is staying… I might have a reason to hang around for a while too.
The thought bolsters me, and I exhale a heavy breath as my boots disrupt the gravel with every step toward Gonzo’s Garage. Or whatever it’ll be called once the sale goes through.
Rory’s SUV is already backed up to the open bay at the far left of the garage, surrounded by flowering trees at the end of the lot. This May weather is so balmy I can’t even see steam coming from the exhaust pipe anymore. Summer isn’t far off at this rate.
The blooms on the sides of the road, the lawns, and across the town have gone through several color cycles since I’ve been here. White, then soft pink, yellow, some blues and purples, and now brighter pink is starting to dominate the landscapes.
The crepe myrtle trees that border the lot here will be budding soon, white, purple, and hot pink flowers that grace the leaves all summer long, even when it’s as muggy as the devil’s ass crack. Amelia’s been so excited by the constantly changing landscape of spring in the Smokies, I can’t wait for her to see those when their time comes in summer. I think they’re even one of the trees planted along the sidewalks downtown.
“There he is!” Rory welcomes my approach in a shirt with a big bow tied on it and some pants that look awful fancy for travel, along with her usual—a pair of heels.
My brother—if I’m allowed to still call him that—grumbles something unintelligible and Rory digs her elbow in his side. He must have a permanent bruise there at this point.
“We gotta hit the road, can we make this fast, gentlemen?” Rory asks, looking at her husband pointedly.
He grunts, and I nod. But then it hits me. “Wait a damn minute. Y’all are driving to New York? Not flying?”
“Yes,” she says calmly.
“It’s like a ten hour drive,” I point out.
“Twelve-ish now that we’ve got the little one. Used to make it in ten though.” She shoots Wyatt a smirk that he returns.
“Why the hell aren’t you just flying?”
“Well, we go to stock up on necessities and the airlines max you out at two checked bags.”
“Each, Rory. Two bagseach. Plus a carry-on.”
Rory shrugs her slim shoulders, somehow still looking elegant as she does. “Exactly. We’d never fit everything if we flew.”
My brother shakes his head softly, then kisses the top of hers, hearts in his dark eyes, and opens the passenger side door for his wife. He’s so fucking gone for her it’s ridiculous.
“You’re sweet, but you’re still not getting any,” she tells him under her breath, and I don’t wanna know, so I jump on the chance to change the subject.
“By necessities, you mean…?” I let the question trail off.
“Shopping. Clothes, shoes, dry goods, you know. The stuff I can only get in Manhattan.”
How the hell they fit all that in their cozy little home, I’ll never understand. Her closet must be a vortex through space and time to fit as much as I’m sure she buys every few months.
As Wyatt herds her to the open door, helping her in, I poke my head in the back seat to say goodbye to my niece. “I’ll miss you, little munchkin,” I coo to her. Missing family dinner these past two Sunday nights meant not getting much time with her, and I’m surprised at how much she’s changed in just a couple of weeks and how much I’ve missed her little toothy smiles and chubby cheeks.
When Wyatt is busy closing Rory’s door with a grunt and heading back toward the garage, I get my wallet out and hand my sister-in-law a few large bills. “Bring me back something worthwhile, yeah?”
She laughs. “You already miss the finer things, too, huh?”
I haven’t spent much time in New York, but I have been in a decently big city much of the last ten years or so. There’s a lot the Heights has to offer, but dammit, sometimes I miss that life too. Convenience. Luxury. Change of pace. I guess she’s worked out how to get the best of both worlds.
“You know it,” I tell her and pull myself back out of the bench seat with one final air kiss to my niece.
Turning back to the garage, I find my brother waiting by the office door.
It takes almost no time at all for Wyatt to explain the vehicles he needs me to work on in his absence, run me through thepaperwork on the desk, and fit in a record number of scowls at me along the way.
“Don’t burn the place down,” he tells me, back turned, strolling away to the dark SUV he got his wife when she decided to stay in the Heights once and for all.
“Your faith in me is reassuring,” I call out to his back.
