Chapter 5: Sold Dreams and New Roads

The next day, I didn’t go fishing. There’d be plenty of places to spend money in Savannah, so I decided to sell the house.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. The air was crisp with the promise of fall. I made coffee—black and strong—and stared out at the water, thinking about everything I was leaving behind.

Most folks who fished for a living couldn’t afford a house; they lived in old trailers or on houseboats, but staying on the water long-term is hard and not safe.

Storms came fast, and mold crept up the walls. I was lucky to have four solid walls, even if they were peeling and drafty.

I was in a hurry to sell and priced it low, so it sold fast. I signed the deed. Since we were neighbors, there was no deposit, and I had two days to pack.

I boxed up my life in cardboard and plastic bins, tossing what I couldn’t carry. The new owner was a sweet woman from two docks down. Said she’d always admired my gardenias.

Aunt Jeannie sent me off from her boat, still laughing.

She waved a greasy wrench at me, grinning from ear to ear. “Lucy, I really got a deal from you. You’re usually so sharp, but so generous now—did that little husband of yours pass the bar exam and get a real job?” I laughed, couldn’t help it.

“Girl, your tough days are finally over, but men with money always go bad. You gotta keep an eye on him.”

She winked, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Aunt Jeannie always had a way of making the worst day feel like a party.

I smiled, not bothering to explain.

Some things aren’t worth explaining. I just hugged her tight, letting the river wind carry away my worries.

I just wanted to take the money and buy a warm coat. Fall and winter were coming, and mornings and nights were getting cold.

I wandered through the thrift store, running my fingers over wool and flannel, picturing myself walking down a Savannah street, head held high, wrapped in something soft.

In a few days, the wind would be rough on the bus. If I wore this, I’d freeze. Get sick. Have to spend even more.

I counted my cash, making sure I had enough for a coat, a bus ticket, and maybe a hot meal along the way. For the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful.

Halfway there, I saw Garrett on a fancy riverboat, holding a woman in his arms, flirting and acting like he owned the place.

He looked right at home, laughing too loud. The woman clung to his arm like he was her ticket to something better. I felt a pang—jealousy, maybe, or just the sting of old habits dying hard.

“Leftovers? Lucy loves me so much, even if I served her garbage, she’d eat it.”

He raised his glass, voice carrying over the water. The crowd roared, and I felt my cheeks burn.

Everyone laughed, calling him a real ladies’ man, saying he had women on a leash.

They clapped him on the back, pouring more wine, treating him like a celebrity. I wanted to throw something, but I kept my hands in my pockets.

Suddenly, someone staggered up to toast him. Looked up. Locked eyes with me.

The man blinked, recognition dawning. I froze, heart in my throat, praying he wouldn’t say my name.

I buried my face in a rack of scarves, willing myself invisible. My hands shook, but I forced myself to breathe slow.

Soon, a pair of shoes stopped in front of me. Looking up, it was Garrett. He’d changed into a plain flannel shirt, like he’d borrowed it from someone else.

He looked out of place—cheeks flushed, hair mussed from the wind. For a second, I almost laughed.

He saw me, frowned, and asked:

His voice was low, almost pleading. “What are you doing here? Did you see anything?”

I scratched my head. “Nah, just wandering.”

I tried to sound casual, but my heart was racing. I met his eyes, daring him to push further.

Then I smiled and leaned closer.

I dropped my voice to a whisper, just for him. “What should I have seen? Why are you here?”

Garrett breathed a sigh of relief, not hiding anything as he pointed to the riverboat and said casually:

He shrugged, gesturing to the boat. “Bar exam’s a couple years out. I’m just meeting old classmates for a networking mixer—toasts, talk, the usual. If I land a real job, I’ll make you a lady of the house.”

“It’s just that I’m short on cash. The wine’s on credit. Can you spot me a hundred or two?”

He grinned, all charm and no shame. “My sweet wife supports my dreams, and I’ll pay you back with interest.”

I just shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. Same old Garrett. Always dreaming, always scheming. But this time? I was already gone.

He just didn’t know it yet.