Page 73 of The Soul Never Forgets

“Aren’t I always?”

Diana rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “If you aren’t aware of what you’re getting yourself into with this one, I’m sure you will soon enough.”

“I’m beginning to figure that out.”

“Yeah, she’s figuring out how lucky she is,” Dawsey says.

I’m seeing a different side of Dawsey. His interaction with his mother is funny and playful… nothing like the way my mother and I interact with each other.

It’s nice.

“Your house is beautiful.”

“I’ll take that as a huge compliment coming from someone who restores beautiful historical houses on a daily basis.” I see they’ve been talking about me. “We bought it right before Dawsey was born.”

My star-crossed soul mate grew up five miles away from me and our paths never crossed. How does that happen?

The house looks brand new. “When did you renovate?”

“Two years ago.”

“It was their way of celebrating my brother finally moving out and getting his own place.”

His mother smiles and shrugs. “Maaaybe.”

“Oh, it was. There’s no maybe about it.”

Dawsey and I will be like this one day. Empty nesters. Kids grown and flown.

“Who is your decorator?”

“I did everything myself.”

It’s lovely and elegant. “I may have to hire you to come to work for me. Let me know if you ever want to give it a shot. You’d be a hit with my clients.”

“Your job must be so much fun.”

“I get to do the fun stuff now, but it hasn’t always been like that. I did the hard labor myself in the beginning before I could afford my own crew.”

“It sounds like you’ve worked hard to get to where you are.”

“It was tough, but I can say now that it was worth every spindle I ever stripped or sanded by hand.” Although you couldn’t have convinced me at the time. I loathe restoring spindles.

The French door opens, and Mr. Wescott comes into the house. I saw the photo of him at Dawsey’s office so I knew what he looked like, but I’m surprised by how much more father and son favor one another in person. Dawsey looks like a younger version of his father. I can easily imagine what he’ll look like in thirty years.

“Hello, hello. You must be Caroline,” he says.

“Yes, sir. It’s good to meet you.”

We stroll through the pleasantries aisle a second time. Not that I mind. Mr. Wescott is funny. I see where Dawsey gets his wit.

“Your last name is Beaumont and you grew up not far from here, so I’m curious. Who are your parents?”

“Matthew and Lilly Beaumont. My dad went by Matt. He passed away sixteen years ago.”

“Your dad is Matt Beaumont who went to East Jefferson High School? Class of 1984?”

“That’s right.”

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