“What?”
“You’ll get back to work here, pick up some new clients, take off on salvaging trips, do what you do—and just not be able to find a free weekend for him to come.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think that’s what will happen at all. I—”
“You and I both know how this will go.” Allyn cut off my babbling. “The same thing happens every time you meet someone.”
I thought of Mitch and others before him. Mitch had lasted longer than most, but our mutual understanding got us both off the hook when our lives were too busy to connect.
“Am I talking to Allyn the therapist or Allyn my friend?”
“They’re one and the same. I just know you better than you know yourself, so I’m obligated to warn you of what’s to happen.”
We sat quietly until the bell on the door announced a customer and voices filled the room.
Allyn took me out onto the floor to show me some new mercury glass vases he’d brought in and a line of hand-painted ceramic dishes. They’d already sold out once and he’d had to place a second order. Allyn moved confidently through the shop, picking up a stray feather, brushing off a cushion with his hand.
“Allyn, this is . . . Thank you for taking care of everything. I appreciate it. And you.”
“Don’t mention it. Anyway, I didn’t expect you to come back, and I didn’t want to be the reason it went under without the captain at the helm. Bits and Pieces is your baby, but you know how I feel about this place. It feels partly mine too.”
“You didn’t think I’d come back?”
He shook his head. “In all our years together, I always thought if you ever left New Orleans, it would be because you finally answered the call from that old house. Once you got settled there, I heard something different in your voice. You didn’t sound like the girl who plans her day out to the last second and chafes when something interrupts the schedule. You sounded happy, and not in an ‘I just scored a table for Mrs. Broussard’ kind of way.”
“I don’t chafe.” My voice betrayed both my irritation and guilt. “And I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I didn’t stay, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
I sighed and stretched my arms over my head. “You obviously have things under control here. I’m going back to the loft to unpack. I’ll see you in the morning?” I turned and headed for the door.
“Oh, no you don’t. For better or worse, you’re back in New Orleans, and we’re going to celebrate. You’re not sitting home and pouting on your first night back. Let me make a few phone calls. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I didn’t bother arguing. I knew I wouldn’t win.
At eight on the dot, Allyn picked me up on his motorcycle. He handed me a helmet and I climbed on, hitching my skirt up to my knees. I felt awkward back in my usual clothes. I thought I’d relish straightening my curls into submission and slipping my feet back into summery wedges, but my toes were cramped, and my work with the flat iron was no match for the thick humidity in the air. I missed the cutoffs, T-shirts, and air-dried hair that had become my staples in Sweet Bay.
We sped through the Quarter’s tight streets and back alleys until we reached the restaurant. Allyn’s friends waited outside for us, a colorful menagerie of laughter and hugs. On the way in the door, Allyn pulled me to the side. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t mean tonight. I’m talking about this—New Orleans. Leaving Sweet Bay. Coming back.”
“I—yes. I went to Sweet Bay for Mags. She’s gone, the house is gone. This is where I belong.”
As I said the words, I thought of all I was giving up, but something told me I’d made my decision. I didn’t let myself think of the implications.
“Whatever you say.” Allyn took my hand and led me inside.
Dinner was as raucous as I’d expected it to be. After several rounds of after-dinner shots, most of which I politely declined, someone touched me on the shoulder. “You’re back.”
Mitch.
Under the table, Allyn nudged my knee.
“I didn’t hear from you after you called about the house,” he said. “Did everything go okay?”
“It was fine. I actually just got back today. I stayed a little longer than I expected.”
He nodded, unbothered by the fact that I’d been gone for more than four months instead of a week as I’d originally planned.
The lively conversation at the table carried on without me, and no one looked our way—except for Allyn, who kept one eye on us as he bantered with the group about a recent photo of Lady Gaga dressed as a drag queen.