Page 4 of Just a Number (Magnolia Row #2)

MICAH

I t’s Friday, and all I can think about is seeing Garrett tonight.

My best friend, Sistine, asked me to hang out at Cattywampus Brewing for a girls’ night with our friend Kendall, but since Garrett finally has some free time, I need to take advantage of it.

Besides, I can see my girlfriends anytime.

I’ll have to go home and shower after being in this hot-as-Hades store all day, but that’s okay. Garrett usually works late, so I’ll have plenty of time to primp.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Nana asks as we eat lunch in her office.

“I may drive up to Montgomery.” She knows what this means without me telling her who I’m meeting. She gives me a look but doesn’t say anything, and we finish lunch in silence.

I spend most of the day taking pictures to post on social media next week.

Last month, a man drove all the way from New Orleans to buy an old steamer trunk.

I seem to have a knack for online marketing, and it’s something I enjoy.

I love every piece we have in the store, having handpicked them all myself with Nana, and it’s nice to show them off and help them find new homes to add to their history.

The sun is finally dipping below the tops of the pine trees outside, signaling it’s almost time to close up shop. I’m in the back office with Nana, arguing over the price of a set of lamps, when the bell of the front door jingles.

I pull my cardigan closed and walk out to the floor of the store, which was once the sanctuary of the church, and see a tall, handsome man with wide, light blue eyes looking around the space as if in awe.

“Hi,” I say, navigating the crowded floorspace to where he stands. “Welcome to Bonaventure Antiques.”

“Hello,” he says, finally noticing me as I approach.

He smiles, and for a moment we lock eyes in silence.

He’s gorgeous—drop dead, take-me-now gorgeous.

He’s taller than me, lean, and has broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper curtain hair.

His face is chiseled, with high cheekbones and a firm, square jawline.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I muster, my voice cracking.

“Maybe. I heard you have—” He stops mid-sentence and his face lights up. “Yes, you do.”

“What?” I ask, following his line of sight. The fountain has caught his attention. He walks over to it and I follow, my heels clacking on the old wooden floor.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, reaching out to touch it as if mesmerized.

“Yes,” I say, a little confused. “It’s my favorite thing in the store. Did you see it on our Insta, or?—”

“No, in a photo of the old hotel.”

“Oh, yeah! The Florablanca.”

“That’s the one! I’ve been hired to oversee the restoration.” He finally takes his focus off the fountain and looks at me. He pauses and stares.

“What?” I ask awkwardly.

“You, uh, your hair. It’s quite vibrant.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I grew it myself.” I nervously grab a strand that fell in front of my shoulder and play with it, unsure of what to do with my hands.

People have always commented on my hair.

It’s bright honking orange. When I was little, I hated it.

Now, I thank the Lord it’s bold enough for me to not have to spend a fortune on hair dye to keep it up.

“Hello,” Nana says from behind me. I jump. I hadn’t realized she was there.

“Hi, I’m Rhodes,” he says, properly introducing himself. “I’m the architect overseeing the restoration of Florablanca Inn.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I’m Barbara Bonaventure, and this is my granddaughter, Micah.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” His bright eyes wander the room as if he’s mesmerized. “This space is incredible!”

“Thank you.” Nana is all politeness, though there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Micah, why don’t you show him around? I’ll be in the office if you need anything.” She winks at me, pushes me towards him, and leaves us alone in the sanctuary.

Rhodes returns his attention to the fountain. “Does it still work?” he asks.

“I have no idea. Nana wasn’t sure if the floor could support the weight, so we never put water in it.” I wring my hands and notice that my palms are sweaty, and I don’t think it’s just the heat.

“How long have y’all been here?”

“We got here around nine this morning.”

“No, I mean, the store…”

Of course. I’m such an idiot. I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous.

“Right. Sorry.” I feel my face flush. “Nana bought the place before I was born. It was Magnolia Row Baptist Church for a long time and, from what I’m told, it had a large congregation until the preacher, um…

” I hesitate. It’s a morbid story, but Rhodes raises his eyebrows like he wants me to continue.

“The preacher shot his wife in the rectory.” I blurt out.

No point in sugarcoating. It’s a wild story.

Rhodes looks at me, bewildered.

“Yeah, the church closed after that. Nothing turns folks off religion like murder. Nana got the building for cheap, and we use the rectory for storage.”

“Wow! Um, okay.” He runs his fingers through his hair and has a baffled look on his face. “Well, it’s the perfect place for an antique store. You have some beautiful pieces.”

He starts to meander, walking alongside the old church pews against the wall. In the back, he spots an upright antique piano with painted roses on the sides. “I love this,” he says, emphasizing the word ‘love.’

“We got it at an estate sale in town.”

“Is that where most of your items come from?”

“For the most part, yes. Locally, people usually give us first stab at their collections. We used to go all over the South. Not so much anymore since Nana’s gotten older, but every now and then we’ll go to Montgomery or Mobile to pick up something.”

“What’s your favorite piece?” he asks.

I show him an art nouveau buffet table on the opposite wall. It has green marble tile on the top and is made of gnarled cherry wood.

“Incredible,” he says, kneeling and running his hands up and down the legs. I pause for a minute and focus on how long his fingers are, how gingerly he caresses the wood, and for a brief second I allow myself to imagine it’s my legs he’s touching.

No, no, no , I tell myself, trying to clear my head. I do not need a crush right now. I have a guy waiting for me in Montgomery I’m seeing tonight. The last thing I need is for this handsome stranger to distract me. But my God, he’s sexy.

“What’s this one’s story?” he asks, his hands still on the wood.

“Nana got that in Mobile when I was little. We think it dates to the 1910s. Apparently, it was originally owned by a madam at a high-class whorehouse in New Orleans, though I don’t think we have reliable provenance.

Makes for a great story, though. I like to imagine her keeping a ledger of clients in the drawers. ”

Rhodes stands up and moves his hands along the tiles. He’s so tactile, like he’s trying to channel the energy of each piece when he touches it. Most people simply come in and look around. Rhodes wants to touch everything, as if he won’t truly see it unless he lays his hands on it.

“That’s a great story. I kinda want to buy this for my condo.”

“Oh, you live at the beach?”

“No, downtown Birmingham. They converted the old City Federal building into condos and I bought one after my divorce.”

So, he’s single…maybe.

Ugh. I need to stop. He probably has a thin, stunning girlfriend who drinks cosmopolitans on the roof of his building overlooking the glittery city.

And I have Garrett. Kind of. In a noncommittal way.

“I could stay in here all day,” he says, looking at a painting between two of the stained-glass windows.

“Well, we’re closing soon,” I say, remembering I need to get home and shower before making the drive to Montgomery.

Nana pops her head out of the office. “We can stay open late if you want us to,” she says. I should’ve known she was eavesdropping.

“No, it’s fine. I have work to do. Do you mind if I ask how much you want for the fountain? My client would be very interested in seeing this restored to the hotel, and I’d love to incorporate it into my design. We’re trying to return it as close to its former glory as possible.”

“I’ll work something up for you,” says Nana, though I’m sure it’ll break her heart to part with it. She walks towards us.

“Thank you. I’ll stop by next time I’m in town. For now, I’ll get out of your hair. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Bonaventure. And you too, Micah.”

The sound of my name coming out of his mouth sends chills down my spine.

“It was nice to meet you too, Rhodes,” called Nana. “Don’t been a stranger.”

“I won’t.” He smiles at me, then turns and leaves, the closing of the door echoing through the quiet space.

Nana pokes me in the side. “Oh, Micah. That man made me want to lose my religion. Have you ever seen someone so handsome?”

“Nana, he’s too young for you.”

“But not for you. He wasn’t wearing a ring.”

I hate to admit I did notice. “He probably has a girlfriend.”

“You could change that.”

“Nana! I’m not going after some architect who doesn’t even live here. Besides, I have Garrett.”

“Who also does not live here.”

“Garrett’s closer than Birmingham.”

“Micah, I’m just saying. If this Rhodes fella’s gonna be in Magnolia Row working on the hotel, maybe give him some of your time. He looks like someone worth knowing.”

I sigh heavily and shoot her a look, letting her know I am done with this conversation. “Are you ready to go?”

“I reckon,” she says, shaking her head.

She walks into the office, leaving me alone in the store. The air seems to have shifted, like Rhodes walked in and charged the energy in all these old beautiful items. Now he haunts the space, and I’m standing in his wake.