Page 32 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Excuse me—what?”
“Jolene told me about your little predicament. You won’t be able to drive by yourself next week, but I’ve cleared my schedule on Monday so I can drive you to St. Francisville. In the meantime, I can be teaching you so that eventually you can drive yourself.”
Gratitude and what I considered righteous anger warred inside me. My mouth opened and closed several times without anything coming out.
Beau looked genuinely embarrassed. “Sorry—didn’t mean to spring it on you. I thought Jolene would have mentioned it.”
“No, as a matter of fact. She didn’t. I’ve barely seen her this week because of her Lakeview project. Not to mention that I don’t remember asking you for your help.”
“You didn’t. And I got tired of waiting. What were you planning to do? Hire a limo and driver?” He laughed as if he found the thought ridiculous.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to my boss. I’m sure we can figure it out.”
“You do know this is Thursday, right? And you have to be in St. Francisville on Monday. You’re not giving your boss a lot of time to revise plans.”
The fact that I knew he was right made me even more resistant. “Maybe I don’t want to learn.”
It looked as if Beau was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “What was it Jolene said? It’s a life skill. Like potty training and playing tennis.”
Jaxson laughed out loud. “Jolene said that?”
The butterflies in my stomach at the thought of getting behind a wheel overrode Jaxson’s appreciation of Jolene’s comment. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”
“So you’re scared?”
“I said no such thing! When I was fourteen I found my way, all by myself, from Los Angeles to Charleston. And I’ve lived with Melanie ever since. Nothing scares me anymore.”
“Then let’s go.”
He strode to the door and opened it. “We’ll start in a church parking lot. As long as it’s not a potluck or bingo night, we should find a few empty ones. There are also school parking lots that should be emptying out about now, except we might have to share with other unexperienced drivers.”
I wanted to resist, to figure it all out on my own. But in this single instance, we both knew that he was right. “Fine,” I said, walking pasthim to the porch. I stopped short. “Wait—all you have here is your truck.”
“Of course. Riding a motorcycle is a different kind of license. Besides, your father would kill me.”
I gave him a look that I hoped he knew meant that I wouldn’t oppose that reaction. “But a pickup truck? I can’t drive a truck. It’s so... big.”
“Exactly. Much safer than a sedan in case you bump into someone.” At my glance, he amended, “I mean, in case someone bumps into you. And in a truck you can drive over potholes instead of in them, which is a huge plus in New Orleans.”
He held open the passenger-side door. “Besides, once you learn how to drive a pickup truck, you can drive anything. Well, except for Bubba. Bubba’s in a class all his own.”
I laughed even though I didn’t want to, and even though I was sure I was going to throw up from nerves.
Beau settled himself behind the wheel. “Do I need to go over the basics? Like how to start a car and put it in gear? I’m assuming you’ll want to drive an automatic transmission.”
“I know how to start a car. And G is for ‘go.’ ”
He gave me a startled look.
I grinned, aware that my lips were wobbling. “Kidding. But I have no idea what an automatic transmission is.”
Beau laughed, starting the car. “Okay. That gives us a place to start.”
“What if I can’t do it? I tried before, remember?”
“Those guys who told you that you were a menace on the roads—are you going to let them win?”
“Do I have a choice?” I wasn’t sure I was joking.
