“She’s here?” Carter asked, surprised. He hadn’t thought Mia and Lula were close. “Is she okay?”
Mia’s eyes widened as she nodded. “Yes. She is,” she whispered. “She’s very okay, more okay than I can ever remember. You’re good for her.”
“Who is it, Mia?” Lula called from the back room. A moment later Lula stepped through the curtain into the shop, looking gorgeous in a gray and pink dress. She froze as their eyes met across the room. “Carter, hi.”
“Hi,” Carter echoed, unable to tear his eyes away from her.
She looked so beautiful, with her long legs accentuated by the short dress and the fabric bringing out the pink in her cheeks. She’d done something with her hair, too, and now the curls he’d admired last night looked fuller and moved easily around her shoulders as she cocked her head, studying him as the silence stretched between them.
“Why don’t I go upstairs and finish supper,” Mia said, backing toward the stairs at the front of the shop. “You two take your time and holler if you want to join me and Sawyer. There’s enough baked ziti and salad for everyone.”
“Thank you, Mia.” Lula’s gaze softened as she glanced at her cousin. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“Of course,” Mia said. “Anytime! You look amazing! And I want you to keep the dress. With the bump on the rise, I won’t be able to wear it again for ages anyway.”
Lula thanked her cousin again, and Mia disappeared up the steps.
They were alone, but the silence still lingered.
Carter had been prepared to appeal to Mia for help; he hadn’t been prepared to see Lula looking changed in a way that seemed to go deeper than a new dress or haircut.
“I’m sorry I ran away this morning,” she finally said.
“It’s okay.” He smiled. “I was just worried. I’ve never known you not to open up the shop before.”
“This was the third time in thirteen years.” She glanced down at her shoes, a shiny pair of heels that made her legs look even longer. “The first time was Aunt Louise’s funeral, the second was my mom and dad’s fortieth wedding anniversary.”
Carter nodded, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “I figured you hadn’t changed that much. I was afraid something was wrong, so I came to ask Mia for your cell number.”
“I don’t know how much I’ve changed,” Lula said, fingertips trailing nervously along the cream surface of the checkout counter. “I feel like I’ve been going through my life half asleep, and then all of a sudden you showed up. So now I’m awake, but I’m not sure…” She took a breath and looked up at him with those searching, clever eyes he remembered. “I’m scared, but I don’t want to be a coward.”
Carter reached out, gently taking her hand. “I’ve been scared ever since I booked the flight to San Antonio. I was afraid you’d think I was crazy or that you’d hate me or that you’d kick that stupid gnome down the stairs and tell me to go straight to hell.”
Lula smiled as she wrapped her fingers around his palm. “I put the gnome in the pantry. I’m still deciding whether he’s allowed out to play in the front yard. I told you there are no Christmas gnomes in my collection.”
“I know,” he said, relishing how good it felt to just hold her hand. “But you’ve got some cute little guys. I had a long time to look around the garden today while I was waiting for you to open the door.”
“I had some serious thinking to do,” she said, a faint smile curving her lips. “And then I had to eat all the cheese you left last night and come sweet talk Mia into cutting my hair since none of the salons are open on Sundays.”
“It looks beautiful. You look beautiful.”
Lula blushed. “Thank you, but I did this for me, not for you. I haven’t taken care of myself in years and that has to change because I value my health and a well-rounded life, not because an old flame came back into town. You may have woken me up, Carter, but if I’m going to stay awake, I have to do it for myself, by myself.”
Carter’s chest tightened. “Does this mean you want me to go?”
Lula shook her head. “No, it means I want you to stay and be my friend. We can still go climbing and the other things we talked about but just as friends for now. Okay?”
“So should I stop holding your hand?” he asked, his grip tightening as he spoke. “Because I really don’t want to.”
Lula’s lashes fluttered as she glanced down at their hands and then back up into his eyes. “I guess hand holding is okay, but…”