the studio goes for it, I mean.”
She claps her hands and stomps her feet on the floor of the cab, giddy. “Yay! It can’t hurt to ask. If they understand it’ll be better for the movie, I don’t see why they wouldn’t—unless they think you’re too good looking.”
When I glance from the road to her, I see she’s not teasing. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She gives a decisive nod. “Raven Blackwell is supposed to have the hots for Anmyr, the elven prince. My co-star—Eric—is not bad, but you’re way hotter.”
I burst out laughing. “Poor Eric. Is he even in the dance scene?”
I look back to catch her shaking her head. “No. It’s supposed to be just some local. But if I were in the audience, and I saw Raven dancing with you, I’d wonder why she’d even look twice at the heir to the elven throne.”
Heir to the elven throne. I crack up. “I love just hearing you talk.”
Iris beams, surprise in her eyes. “Well, that puts you in a very selective minority. Most people think I talk too much.”
I brake to make the turn onto Lake Martin Road. I shouldn’t take my eyes off the highway, so I wait until I straighten out to glance at her.
“I want to hear everything you have to say.” I don’t add for the rest of my life, but that’s what I wish. I suddenly hate everyone who’s ever made her feel like she’s too much.
She’s just right. And she’s mine. At least for now.
A thought hits me, spurring laughter. “If I’m in a Raven Blackwell movie, my students will lose their minds.”
Iris laughs. “You mean you aren’t already the coolest French teacher at school.”
I scoff. “I have the reputation of the hardest.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she mutters. “That’ll all change when they see your dance moves.”
I cringe just a little. I wonder how many of them have seen the Instagram post. Thank goodness school doesn’t start for another six weeks.
“Anyway, it’s worth getting my new manager—whoever that’ll be—to try.” Her voice dips lower. “It’s something I never would’ve asked Moira to do.”
I squeeze her hand. When we got a clear signal today around noon, she was able to call Ramon. He’s put together a short but promising list of managers for Iris. He’s also already retained an attorney, and Iris has a conference call scheduled with her on Monday.
Iris warned me that there was a decent chance Moira would show up at her house this morning, demanding to talk to her, but she didn’t. So far, so good.
I slow before a dip in the road. Local flooding has turned some of the fields to swamps, and this one has spilled onto the highway, but I can see through it, so I know my truck can cross. But I wonder what it means for my neighbors and if we’ll even be able to reach my house.
We approach the bridge that crosses the Vermillion. The radio said the river crested one foot over flood stage, and even though the bridge here is clear, the river has overrun her banks. I hope we can at least get close enough to put eyes on the house.
“Wow.” Iris ogles the rushing water as we cross.
“Yeah. It happens.”
This whole drive, she has gasped and groaned over fallen trees, blown-out billboards, and tumbled trash bins, but I know the storm could have really been a lot worse.
“You checked on Mr. Hebert?” she asks. Her sweet concern makes me grin.
“Yeah, Nonc is fine.” The fact that my Aunt Lorraine answered his phone this morning let me know he’s more than fine. Either that, or he’s certifiable.
“What about your mom? Should we go see if she needs help at her place?”
I wince. I still haven’t told Iris about Mom’s condition. I didn’t see the point before now, and, if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to. But Iris has shared her burdens with me, so keeping this to myself doesn’t seem fair.
“My mom lives in assisted living. I called her this morning.” I waited until Iris took Mica out for a walk to do just that. “She’s fine. They have back-up power, so she’s not even sweating like the rest of us.”
“She’s in assisted living?” I glance over to find Iris’s eyes sharp with concern.
“Yeah.” I nod, a humbling feeling crowding my insides. “Mom has Alzheimer’s.”
Her brows shoot up. “Oh, Beau.” Her expression softens into a frown, and her hand goes tight around mine. “That must be hard.”
I’d hesitated to tell her before