Thursday
Thursday morning found Tara busy with the volunteers, but as soon as she was free from her duties she texted Remy. He met her in the pool and they chased each other around, splashing and laughing like a couple of kids. When they were soaked and breathless, they moved to the hot tub to relax. Remy told her all about the local jazz festivals back in New Orleans.
“I’m jealous. Boston is more alternative rock, new age punk, that sort of thing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lot of fun, but I’d love to see a jazz fest with the brass and the blues.”
He smiled. “If you ever make it down, I have a couch you can sleep on and a warehouse you can shift in.”
She laughed. “Oh, how could I turn down such inviting accommodations?”
Their conversation meandered from music to education to politics
