“You hate that place,” she said.
“I don’t hate it.” Harry laughed. “I just got sick of eating there so much. You wanted to eat there every other day.”
Her mouth curled into a smile. “I love my favorite little spot in Mid-City. And dinner would be nice.”
“Pick you up at seven, then?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”
In the garage she started her car. It hadn’t been driven in a while, so she let the engine roar until it settled into a softhum. She sat for a moment, hands on the wheel. Then she backed out of the driveway and headed toward the French Quarter. She needed to check up on Chic Threads and see how the shop was holding up, and how Amelia was doing without her.
She merged onto I-10, slipping into the rhythm of the freeway. The city unfolded around her, the skyline beaming with the morning sun, traffic pushing forward the way it always did. It was after rush hour, so there was no stress.
She pulled into a narrow spot just down the block from Chic Threads. The storefront looked the same as when she left it—gold lettering on the windows. The new styles had arrived, and Amelia had done well with dressing the mannequins in the window. They were dressed in bold summer prints. A small OPENsign hung on the door.
Bianca smiled. She really missed her place. Inside, the familiar jingle of the door chime greeted her, followed by the scent of a woodsy candle. Amelia hadn’t seen her coming—not at first. She was engaged with a customer, one of their regulars who was known for being difficult, always looking for a discount. The woman was also always trying to return items to the store—sales tags still attached and reeking of her perfume. There were countless times Bianca had to firmly tell her no, she couldn’t return things after she’d worn them. It was a fight that she’d grown tired of having. Bianca wished she could’ve just banned her from the store altogether. But Amelia handled the woman with her usual style and grace, smiling, although she wanted to scream. She looked up and realized that Bianca was watching. She gave her a warm smile. Bianca winked.
Bianca busied herself by straightening clothes on a rack and refolding clothes on a table.
“Welcome home, stranger.” Amelia was finally able to pull herself away once the woman left.
Bianca embraced her. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Good to see you. You look good. Healthy,” Amelia said.
“Thank you. I’m feeling pretty healthy.” Bianca smiled. “Everything seems to be in order and running smoothly. But I know it’s overwhelming sometimes, doing it by yourself. Maybe we can talk about hiring someone to help out.”
Amelia sighed. “Yeah, things have picked up. Those summer tops you ordered are flying off the shelves. I can’t keep them on hangers. And there’s a long waitlist for the pink ones.”
“A shipment’s coming. It’s just delayed.”
Amelia nodded. “So, you’re really doing it … moving to California?”
“I got an offer on the house last night. We’ll see if it pans out. And I’m closing on my home in California in a couple of days.”
“Wow, Bianca,” Amelia said, a smile on her face. “If you’re happy, I’m happy for you. You know I’ll hold it down here until you figure things out.”
“I appreciate that, more than you know.” Bianca headed toward the door. “I’m not going to stay. I just wanted to drop by. Check things out.”
“Of course. Take care.” Amelia hugged her tightly. “Mila doing okay?”
“Yes. In fact, she’s transferred schools. She’ll be at LSU now.”
“Really? Wow.” Amelia laughed and said, “Well, get her over here to work part-time.”
“I was thinking the exact same thing,” she told Amelia. “A good way to start learning responsibility is with a job.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Amelia said. “I’ll teach her the ropes when she’s ready.”
Bianca opened the door, and it jingled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said before stepping out into the Louisiana heat.
She walked a few blocks down the street, the air humidand thick with the scent of fried seafood. Zydeco music spilled out from open doors along the way. She stepped into one of her favorite eateries. She didn’t need to look at the menu; in fact the woman behind the counter already knew what she wanted when she walked in. Bianca ordered her usual sandwich with the Italian meats, cheeses, and olive salad soaked into the bread. It was one of the things she would miss about home—a killer muffuletta. The oil was soaked through the paper bag as she left with it and hopped into her car. She couldn’t even wait until she got home before ripping the bag open.
Back at home and out of the heat, she relaxed with a glass of lavender iced tea before finally dozing off for a few hours. She was awakened by an anchor on the six o’clock news discussing crime in the city. She pulled herself together. Harry would pick her up soon.
The summer dress she’d chosen to wear was one that hugged her curves in every way. It was off the shoulder and floral, short enough to reveal a set of great legs but not too much. She wore flat sandals with lacy straps that weaved their way up her calves like vines.
When the doorbell rang she gave her neck a quick spritz of perfume and then rushed downstairs to answer it. It had been a while since she’d last seen Harry, but now, standing on her doorstep, wearing khakis and a polo shirt, he was even more handsome than she remembered. The touch of gray in his beard and along his temple. The beard and the gray were something new, hadn’t been there the last time she saw him.