Page 143 of My Lucky Charm

I pick them up, walk to the door and ring the bell. Eloise pulls it open. Will her beauty ever not take my breath away? “Hey.”

She smiles. “Aw! You got her flowers.”

“You said to treat it like a date.”

“Oh?” She looks surprised. “You’re a flower guy, huh?”

“You’re not a flower girl?”

She shrugs. “I think my dream man will bring me a bouquet of Dr Pepper. Or, you know, a can of it.” She laughs and tugs me inside. “I took her shopping,” she says quietly. “So be sure to compliment her dress.”

“You still have my credit card, don’t you?”

She winces. “I mean . . . I’ll give it back. Soon. Ish.”

“Did you guys have fun?”

A grin breaks out across her face. “So much fun. You wouldn’t think there’s good shopping here because it’s a small town, but there really is. A friend of mine from high school opened a boutique, and she has kids’ sizes. The cutest dresses.” A pause. “The elementary school has a fancy little celebration, and we found the cutest dress that flares when she twirls and—” She stops. “Sorry. I’m rambling again.” And then, as if someone flipped her “on” switch to “off,” she goes silent.

“I don’t mind,” I say.

She holds up a hand. “Nope. Rambling is unprofessional. I’ll go get Scarlett.” She rushes up the stairs, leaving me standing in the entryway holding a bouquet of flowers and immediately missing Eloise and her unprofessional rambling.

Eloise’s parents appear in the entry, and they both smile at me.

“You’re in for a real treat,” her mom says, signing.

And then, her dad circles an open hand around his face, and her mom says, “Beautiful.”

They’re both beaming with what I can only describe as “pride.” Like grandparents would.

Before I can unpack that thought, Eloise appears a few minutes later at the top of the stairs, her face lit in that trademark smile. She clears her throat, and in a booming voice, she proclaims and signs, “Ladies and gentlemen, media and international press agents . . .”

I hear Scarlett giggle from somewhere in the hallway.

“Mr. Grayson Hawke, please allow me to introduce your date for the evening, Miss Scarlett Hawke.”

When my daughter steps around the corner and starts down the stairs, my face breaks out into a smile of its own.

She walks slowly down three stairs, hits a pose, blows a few kisses to imaginary photographers as Eloise’s parents wave their hands in silent applause. Scarlett grins, then drops the pretense and runs the rest of the way, throwing her arms around me like it’s been days and not hours since she’s seen me.

She buries her face in my stomach, and as I pull away, I realize she’s crying.

“Whoa! Hey, hey, hey . . . Scarlett, what’s—”

I kneel in front of her, my eyes drifting up the stairs to a now concerned-looking Eloise. She gives me a confused shrug and starts down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, forcing Scarlett to look at me.

A big sniff. A trembling lower lip. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

Eloise’s shoulders drop, and she starts to walk past, presumably to give us privacy, but as she passes by, Scarlett grabs her hand. Eloise freezes, her eyes wide, and she looks at me. Her parents have slipped out of the entryway, and now it’s just the three of us.

I try to give her a look to convey that it’s fine if she stays.

“Everything’s going to be different,” Scarlett says. “You’re all the way here, I have to move in with Mom and Ted, and when am I ever going to see you again?” She directs that last question to Eloise, who sits on the bottom step and smiles.

“Oh, Red. You are definitely going to see me again,” she says.

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