Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(57)

"Thank you, Penny."

"Don't thank me. I'm relying on you to do everything you can to get him a spot before the end of next month."

"I will. But thank you for giving me a place to start."

She reached out and put a hand on mine. "You were on the way. But I was glad I was able to help speed up the process. I know this isn't easy."

"He is a good man, Penny. David was there for me like a parent. Anyway. Thank you. I know he seems crazy and belligerent, but he was kind."

She smiled. "That's good to know. He talks sometimes like he did something very bad.”

I lift a shoulder. “He managed other people’s money. It was a big responsibility. And like so many others invested heavily in mortgage-backed securities, he lost everything. Everything for his clients, himself, and his family.”

“I had a feeling it was something like that. When are you flying back?"

"I don't know. Tomorrow, maybe. I had to cancel my flight yesterday."

"A lot of these facilities are geared for visiting and tours on the weekends. So maybe if you can get back today you could go this weekend?"

It made more sense to fly out tonight than pay for a hotel room, but it was Friday and flights into Charleston due to the Spoleto Festival were probably full. Maybe I could try standby and stay with Armand.

"I'll see if I can get on a flight."

Penny nodded and stood.

Going back today meant seeing Trystan today. I felt sick with nerves.





27





Emmy





As I suspected the flights were full. I called the airline to see about standby and after a lady explained I should probably get to the airport as soon as possible because the flights would get busier and busier, I went upstairs to say goodbye to David.

"David," I greeted him from the door to his room.

He waved me in absently. "I had a dream, Emmy. You had a fella. Then I spoke to him!"

"You did, huh?"

"Well, I spoke to him in my dream. But then again just now. On the phone."

I perched on the end of his bed. "That's lovely, David. What do you guys talk about?"

He grinned. "You, of course."

"Me?"

"And business, of course."

"Of course."

"You should tell him, Emmy. He thinks I'm a nice person. You should tell him what I did."

"You are a nice person, David—"

"No. I was stupid. You should tell him all those things."

"I know those things, David. And I still think you're a nice person."

David huffed. "Well, he loves you. That makes me happy."

"That's lovely," I said. "Maybe one day I'll meet this dream fella. I'd sure love for him to be real."

"What are you talking about? He's the one with your phone staying with you in Charleston."

"What? Oh no. That's Trystan. He's not my fella."

"Could've fooled me."

"David—" I started, then sighed. "It's complicated."

"Nothing's complicated when you love someone. And he loves you."

"David." I took his hand and squeezed. I really should let this go, let him have his fantasy, but the idea he had was preposterous, and God forbid it took on any kind of permanence in his mind. I'd be hearing about it and fielding questions about where Trystan was for years. "David, I don't really know Trystan. I've only known him for three days, and even then—"

"Psshh," David cut in, waving his hand. "Three days. Let me tell you about three days. I met Dolly on a Greyhound bus on my way to California in 1972. If you don't think you can fall in love with someone in three days, missy, then ask me why I never met anyone again for the rest of my life."

David had been a bachelor as long as I'd ever known him. At one time, I'd thought maybe he was gay, and then perhaps simply asexual. I'd heard about Dolly once, but he never spoke about her. This was a new development.

"Tell me about her," I pressed.

"Nothing to tell. We spent three days together on a bus just talking, sleeping, laughing, learning about each other's lives. When we arrived, I kissed her, and well . . . then we went and spent the night together at a motel. It was the most beautiful night of my life. In the morning she told me she was married." He looked away and blinked.

"Oh, David. I'm so sorry."

"In all our three days together she'd never shared the biggest thing about her."

"Maybe she didn't think it was the biggest thing about her."

David looked at me sharply, and I shrugged. "I mean, maybe that's not how she identified herself. And maybe there was a reason she was on a Greyhound bus traveling to California rather than home with her husband."

"What did that singer fella say? Too young to reason and too grown up to dream. That was me."

"That's beautiful. And sad."

"I couldn't think of it in those terms back then. I was hurt. She left. I never saw her again. But I never forgot her. Sometimes there's just someone like that. Maybe most people never meet that someone, or maybe they don't recognize when they do. Maybe they pass them on the street and share a look, but they don't realize the size of the opportunity they are passing. Or they do but their hands are tied."