with me?"
"Sure." As we left, I heard Lou tell Stan what a cute couple we made.
"Promise me you'll be here?" he asked, squeezing my hand.
"I promise," I said, squeezing his hand back.
The driver took his suitcase and placed it in the trunk. "Would you like the guitar in the car with you, Mr. Reynolds?" the driver asked.
Ben's last name was Reynolds. I made a mental note to Google him later.
"Yes please, John. And do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"
The driver pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket and handed it to Ben.
Ben scribbled something onto the paper and handed it to me. "Here's my cell. If you have to leave, or just want to talk, call me. Okay?"
I nodded, as tears formed in my eyes, making me feel silly. He wiped one away and grinned slyly. "Wow, you must really dig me, huh?"
I smacked his shoulder. "Not after that comment, I don't," I said, giggling. "Now go. I've got to get ready for the next hot musician to check in."
"Lou would never let that happen, you know," he said. "She's got my back."
"I don't doubt that one bit," I said.
"So," he asked, getting shy all of a sudden, "can I have your number, too?" He dipped his head and then lifted his eyes to me, looking innocent and sexy at the same time.
I kissed him quickly and then took the paper, writing down my cell. "Here, now go, and hurry back."
"Yes, ma'am."
I watched the car drive away, surprised by the ache of loneliness suddenly in my heart.
That night I sat in the great room of the big old house, admiring the southern decor, drinking sweet tea and talking to Lou. The tables were covered in white doilies like the ones my grandmother used to have, and I wondered if, when I lifted one, an imprint of dust would remain.
My mind was distracted by Ben's comments to Lou and Stan before he knew I was listening. What was it he hadn't told me? What was Ben hiding from me? Was it something bad, something that would change my opinion of him, my feelings for him? I didn't know what that could possibly be and I wanted to ask Lou, but didn't want to put her on the spot. It was unbelievably hard not to ask though, unbelievably hard.
While I thought about Ben's secret, Lou told me stories of the house's history, how she and Stan fell in love, and she promised to give me her sweet tea recipe before I left—as long as I didn't tell anyone where I got it. She didn't want her ancestors coming back to haunt her for giving away their secret family recipes.
"I promise I won't," I said. "In fact, I'll take full credit for creating it myself, if you'd like."
Lou chuckled, and then her tone turned serious. "I was best friends with Ben's momma growin' up, did he tell you that? We were thick as thieves 'til the day she died."
My fingers grazed my throat. "He didn't tell me that, no. He did say that he spent a lot of time here growing up, but I didn't know you were close to his mom. It must have been hard, losing her."
She stared at a painting above the stone fireplace. It was of two young girls swinging on tires from a tree in front of an old barn. "That's us, when we were about eight," she said, pointing to it. "I'm the one on the right. You can tell that's Ben's momma. She was cute as a bug's ear at that age, just like her baby was too." She sipped her tea. "Still is now, if you ask me."
"He definitely is," I said.
"He's really takin' a likin' to you too, Carly. And he don't want me sayin' nothin' but Ben's kin to me and I don't want him gettin' his heart broke. It's hard for him, havin' a relationship, what with being all famous and such. Most girls aren't interested in him for nothin' but his celebrity, so he don't date much these days." She stood and walked over to the painting. "Now don't you go breakin' his heart, you hear?"
Famous? Celebrity? What was she talking about? Ben wasn't famous, was he?
"A celebrity? What do you mean?" I asked.
She walked back over to me and patted my shoulder. "Oh, honey. You ain't figured it out yet, have you?
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