Dakota agreed they should see each other before she left, but knew they probably would meet up again when Dana was in high school.
When the line died down, Dakota signed the last of Lillianna’s supply and made her excuses.
Carol Ann and Sis walked with her out into the parking lot. “That was fun.”
Carol Ann wove her arm through Dakota’s. “I’m proud of you. My famous sister.”
“I’m not famous.”
Sis laughed. “No one was asking for our autographs.”
“Write a hot book and that might change,” Dakota said.
Once Carol Ann and Dakota were on their way home, Dakota asked, “What happened to Louise?”
“Oh, she left after Missy showed up. Those two—”
“That’s right. I remember now. I hope they grow out of the gossip and scandal stage of life.”
Carol Ann rolled her eyes. “Seems the older they get the more covert they become, but honestly, they spread more bunk than they did in school.”
“That’s too bad.” Gossip was the favorite pastime of a small town. Although their town wasn’t all that short on people, everyone knew everyone. “Is Tommy still a two-timing prick?”
Carol Ann gasped. “Dakota!”
“Well . . . is he?”
It took her sister half a breath to confirm. “I’ve heard rumors.”
“I thought so. I’d rather be single than put up with that.”
“Is that what happened between you and him?”
She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that.” For the first time since she’d arrived in South Carolina, Dakota opened up to her sister. “I thought everything was great. We would juggle our schedules, meet at each other’s place . . . then he just stopped calling.”
“No argument?”
“Nothing. I liked him, Carol Ann. I hurt when he left.”
“I’m sure there have been others that hurt.”
“Not like him.” Walt left a gaping hole and a whole lot more.
Dakota’s childhood home screamed the South much like Walt’s echoed the West. The tall columns and plantation shutters were just the start of his observations. The two-story house sat on at least an acre of manicured land. The front porch had a bench with plush pillows. He would bet money the back of the house would have rocking chairs and a vast expanse of grass where children would run around at Easter collecting colorful eggs.
Walt couldn’t help but wonder if his child would have memories of his or her grandparents’ home.
He walked past the rental car in the circular drive. Was she inside? Would she answer the door?
Walt looked at the bench with renewed interest. He might be sleeping on that bench. A light rain started to fall as he jogged up the steps, when he laid his knuckles to the back of the door and stood back.
Walt didn’t imagine Dakota’s mother would have blonde hair and a touch of Botox around her eyes. Mrs. Laurens stood tall, a questioning smile on her face. “Can I help you?” Her Southern accent reminded him of Dakota.
“Mrs. Laurens?”
She hesitated. “Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m Walt.”
Not one muscle on her face so much as twitched.
“I’m here to see Dakota.”
If Walt wasn’t looking, he would have missed the rise and fall of Mrs. Laurens’s smile. “I’m not sure she wants to see you.”
“Can you tell her I’m here?”
“She’s not home.”
Walt wasn’t sure he believed her. Was he really going to be told he couldn’t see her?
“Elaine? Who’s here?” a voice called from the rear of the house.
Elaine stepped back, started to close the door. “You really should go. I’ll tell Dakota you were here when she returns.”
Walt placed his foot in front of the door. “Please, Mrs. Laurens. I’ve flown twenty-five hundred miles just to talk to her. I know she’s upset. It’s important that I see her.”
Elaine glared at his foot as if she’d never seen one in a door and then turned that glare on him.
“Elaine?” A man Walt could only assume was Dakota’s father moved behind Mrs. Laurens and looked directly his way. “Who are you?”
“This is the man our Dakota fled from when she returned home.”
Could she sound more dramatic? Probably.
Mr. Laurens opened the door wider. “Dakota’s not here.”
So that is true. “Then I’ll wait.” Walt removed his foot, stepped back.
“We don’t know when she’ll return.”
He wasn’t sure if Mr. Laurens was more receptive to his presence than his wife or not.
Walt shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” He glanced at the bench. “I’ll just sit here if you don’t mind.”
“I most certainly do mind,” Elaine said. “What will the neighbors say?”
Mr. Laurens opened the door wide. “Seems we have a choice, let the man inside, or have a scene that will be relived repeatedly over the next decade.”
Walt smiled and detoured into the house. He extended a hand the moment he stepped inside. “Thank you. I’m Walter Eddy.”
Mr. Laurens shook with strength. “Dennis Laurens, my wife, Elaine.”
Elaine closed the door behind them.
“Well, Mr. Eddy . . . you’ve breached the walls. But when our daughter returns, if she wants you to leave, you must respect her request, is that clear?” Who knew Dakota’s mom would be so fiercely protective?