Page 11 of Just a Number (Magnolia Row #2)

RHODES

W eeks have gone by since I left Magnolia Row. I’ve buried myself in work on the Florablanca Inn project and barely left my condo, which now seems cold and unfeeling after being in the warm, cozy, small town environment.

Nevertheless, I’ve trapped myself in here to finish this proposal. I’m surprised my neighbors haven’t called for a wellness check. I pace the cold hardwood floor, eat frozen dinners, and work. Sometimes I sleep, but even then, I dream about work.

My friend Jaxon agrees to handle general contractor duties for the hotel, which is fantastic since he exclusively works on historic buildings and is the only person I trust with an undertaking this large.

He’s working on getting a structural engineer, an electrician to replace the knob-and-tube electrical system, and some local guys for the plaster and plumbing work.

Once I finish my final proposal, complete with estimates, blueprints, sketches, and an overall description of my vision for the project, I call my client.

“Wilhelmina,” she says, answering the phone as if introducing herself.

“Um, hi, Mrs. Caxton?”

“It’s Wilhelmina, darling. Don’t be so formal.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I thought you said?—”

“Yes, well, I changed my mind.” Her voice echoes like I’m on speakerphone. I imagine her with a glass of red wine and doing her makeup in one of those mirrors with the big lightbulbs all around it.

“Okay, uh, Wilhelmina. This is Rhodes Cauley, the architect you?—”

“Yes, Rhodes. I know who you are. I had my assistant program my phone so that your picture pops up when you call. How are things coming along?”

I ignore the picture comment. “I have the final proposal ready to send you. The only thing missing is the price of the fountain. I located the original to the lobby of the hotel, but I’m not sure how much they want for it.”

“However much it’s worth, double it if we have to. Everything has a price, darling.”

“Um, okay.” I’m not sure how to respond. Her flippant approach to finances makes me a little uncomfortable, so I move on. “I included the fountain in my design, assuming we can get it. Do you want me to email this all to you, or do you want to meet in Magnolia Row sometime soon?”

“How is next week? Maybe Thursday? We can meet on site. I hate computers. Never email me anything. I won’t see it. Besides, I haven’t been around a good-looking man all month and I’d love to see you.”

I shake my head. “Yes, ma’am. Thursday works fine. How’s one o’clock?”

“Don’t call me ma’am. It’s Wilhelmina. And one o’clock is perfect.”

We hang up. I sit on my black leather sofa, look past the bustling city towards Red Mountain, and sigh.

Going back to Magnolia Row will mean seeing Micah again, finally. For the past few weeks, I’ve been kicking myself for not getting her number or at least going in for a kiss. She probably thinks I forgot about her. I really blew the ending of that date.

Maybe I should’ve tried harder to call her before now.

Bonaventure Antiques has a website with a number listed, but I’m scared her grandmother will answer and it’ll be awkward.

I found Micah on social media and thought of adding her as a friend, but I’m not sure if that’s creepy.

I wish there were some kind of guide to modern dating that outlined exactly what to say and what to do on which dates.

At first, I felt like I shouldn’t call because it was too soon, but now I feel like it’s been too long. This game is impossible to navigate.

I lean back on the couch and run my fingers through my hair.

I’m way too old for this. Restoring a huge hotel that’s been neglected for thirty years is easier than trying to figure out when and whether I should call someone I’m interested in.

It shouldn’t be this complicated. I like her. I should call.

There is one thing, though — Micah’s age. Fifteen years is a big difference. What if she wants kids? With a son in college, I don’t want to go back to being a dad to a little one. I’m looking forward to grandkids down the road, but that’s it.

I know I’m getting way ahead of myself. I need to focus on work and stop obsessing like a teenager.

I send a text to Jaxon and he agrees to meet me in Magnolia Row next Thursday.

He and I will meet that morning, go to lunch, then see Wilhelmina in the afternoon.

Hopefully I can sneak in an hour or so to go to Micah’s store and get a few pictures of the fountain, maybe talk to her grandmother about a price, and secure at least one more date if I haven’t already blown it.

In the meantime, I can’t get her out of my head.

I can tell by the way she talks about things, the aesthetic of the store, and her style that she and I are cut from the same cloth.

We both love old things—love their energy, their life.

I’ve never met another woman quite like her.

I could talk to her all day and stare at her all night.

Now I’m feeling creepy again.

I still can’t get a handle on having a crush. It’s scary and invigorating.

On top of that, I’m enraptured by the town of Magnolia Row.

I love everything about it, and Micah is a living, breathing embodiment of everything the place has to offer.

Coming back to my cold loft in the steel city was hard.

I used to love where I live, but now I’m feeling homesick for a place—and a person—I’ve only spent a few days with.

I can’t wait to go back.