Chapter 20
TWENTY
2 Days til Christmas
“Why do you have a mom car?”
“Because there’s snow.” I glanced at Q, who was slouching in his seat.
“Why does it smell like a pine tree?”
“Catch those little trees in your room?”
“Oh, right. They’re cool.” He glanced out the window, his tone pensive and distant.
“Are you getting to work with Rory right away?”
“Hmm?” He glanced back at me. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s pretty busy. I might talk to him about getting on his schedule.”
“You know, you can take some time to yourself.”
“Bethany thinks I can get another tour set up in nine months. She wants to book dates before the venues fill up.”
Bethany, Q’s manager, was pushy. It was her job to get him seen in any capacity, but sometimes, she forgot he needed time to recharge. He wasn’t a damn machine.
I was exhausted just thinking about it. Was nine months even enough time to put an album together? There were far more things going on in the background, especially since making actual physical records and specialized merch was the norm.
“If anyone can help you put together another album, it’s Rory.”
“He’s busy with Ian Kagan’s new album right now, but I really just want to talk to him. Feels like forever since we’ve talked.”
“Definitely.” I reached over and touched my brother’s arm. “It’s okay to be tired.”
He squeezed my fingers for a moment before letting go. “I am tired. Unbelievably. I think you’re right about taking off and traveling. I’ve been to every state and haven’t seen a damn thing. Even when we spent seven weeks in Canada, I couldn’t tell you what cities we were in after I read them off the setlist.”
“I know.”
“I’m dry, O. Like wrung out dry. No spark.”
I frowned as we drove farther away from the lake and into the small town of Crescent Cove. “You never showed it on stage.”
“Of course not. People paid to see me. And I loved singing for them, but I haven’t written a new song in months.” He looked out the window again. “I could always write.”
“You could write because you were out living before. You can write an on the road song, but it’s not really you.”
“Journey wrote the perfect song. Nothing matches ‘Faithfully’. Period.”
The band might be a bit before our time, but our parents had instilled a great love of 70s and 80s music.
I tapped the screen and pulled up the music app linked to my phone. He laughed as the song piped through the speakers. Q’s strong, raspy voice paired beautifully with Steve Perry’s and I got my own little concert.
Even after all the years I’d witnessed him singing—even before he was famous—it never ceased to amaze me that voice lived inside him.
It transformed him every time. Q just needed a little nudge with music.
It truly was his happy place.
The song ended a few minutes before I pulled up to Rory Ferguson’s circular drive. It was a modest home on the edge of the suburbs of Crescent Cove. On first look, it was similar to any other ranch style house, but as the trees gave way, a massive building sprawled out behind the house.
Rory had talked of building a studio as his home base so he could be home more often. Guess he’d finally made it happen.
It was just getting dark as we walked up the drive.
The front of the house was decked out with large vintage Christmas bulbs in cheerful red and green. A snowman, half buried by the storm and mounds of snow that had been plowed off the drive, held his hand up in greeting.
The door swung open, and Rory rushed out to meet us. “There ya are!” His musical Irish accent was always so welcoming.
He gathered Q into a tight hug. “I can’t believe you came to the Cove.” Rory waved to me. “Nice to see you too, Ocean Breeze.”
I took a turn with the hearty hug. Rory was a bit shorter than my brother and as charming as he was talented.
“It was O’s idea to rent a house on the lake for all of us.” Q grinned at me. “Don’t think a blizzard was on the rental agreement, though.”
“This is even a bit much for Crescent Cove, to be honest. It’s not unheard of to have a foot or two, but the snowbanks are taller than me .”
“Not hard,” Quentin teased.
Rory elbowed him. “Just because you and your brothers are freakishly overgrown doesn’t mean I’m a little guy.”
“Hi.” A girl that had to be heading for double digits clomped outside with pink winter boots, a matching unzipped jacket, and a fuzzy reindeer sweater with a jaunty red ball for a Rudolph nose in the middle of her belly. “Are you a friend of Da’s?”
“Ri-Ri, this is Quentin. I think you might have met him once at the studio.”
She waved. “I meet lots of musicians at Da’s studio.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment before recognition hit. “Oh, my bestie’s big sister has a poster of you on her door.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think she kisses it—a lot.”
Q laughed and tugged her messy braid. “We’ll let that be our little secret.”
She grabbed Quentin’s hand. “Come inside. Mama said she made your favorite ice cream into a cake.”
I glanced at Rory.
He shrugged. “Ivy makes specialty ice cream. It’s the off-season, but she loves to show off for guests.”
“How’d she know my favorite ice cream?” Quentin asked as he was dragged along by Ri-Ri—aka Rhiannon.
“I’m not sure how my ginger fairy knows anything, but she has her ways.”
I bumped companionably against Rory. “Probably from the Variety interview. They asked him some wild questions. It reminded me of the Teen magazines when I was a girl.”
“Knowing Ivy, you’re right. Ian and Simon showed up with a song idea so they’re inside too.”
“Ian and Simon Kagan?” My belly did a little dip. I was mostly immune to musicians after working for Q, but the Kagan brothers were…different.
“Yeah, they’re locals. Kind of.” Rory gestured for me to go up the stairs before him. “Their family owns Happy Ac—uh, Brothers Three Orchard.”
“Oh, Laverne!”
“You’ve met the fair Laverne. She’s a goddess.”
“That she is. I’m pretty sure I bought out half of her gift shop to decorate the cabin for my crazy family.”
“Oh, I bet you did. She’s got a good eye for everything. Ian’s wife is Laverne’s niece. The kicker to that is Simon’s best mate is married to Laverne’s daughter Lila.”
“Wait. You mean Nick Crandall from Oblivion?”
Rory grinned. “That’s the one.”
“You say mate like he’s not one of the most famous songwriters and guitarists of our generation.”
He shrugged. “Just Nick and Li to me.”
Just Lila. I couldn’t wrap my head around that.
Lila Crandall was the second-in-command at my brother’s record label. She and Donovan Lewis were career makers. We didn’t deal with her or the owner all that often, but they definitely were not hands off when it came to being involved with Q’s career.
Gobsmacked, I walked inside the warm house. It was decked out with more of the vintage-style decorations that were outside. A smaller version of my Christmas tree stood in the corner near a wide bay window that showed off a massive snow-colored backyard.
A wide, U-shaped couch surrounded a coffee table full of snacks. A man was perched on the edge of the couch, his riot of dark curls messy around his shoulders. His bright blue eyes danced as he spoke to Ivy.
He popped up as we walked through the entryway. “Hello!” He came right over and held out his hand. “I’m Ian.”
Exasperated and slightly starstruck, I stammered, “Oh, I know.”
His grin spread into a delighted smile. “You must be Ocean Breeze.”
“Ocean,” I corrected.
“Rory talks of you and your brother all the time. Come, come. Ivy has a brilliant spread of food.” His British accent was as musical as his singing voice.
“Let the girl, breathe, Ian.” Simon Kagan came out of the kitchen, carrying a tall glass of iced water.
He was as stunningly attractive as his younger brother. The same inky hair, though shorter and probably shorn in a three-hundred-dollar haircut, but the ice blue eyes were eerily identical, if maybe a little more reserved.
Ian was like a puppy, where Simon was a bit easier in his skin. He wore all black and made my heart flip.
Oblivion was one of my favorite bands—and they had been especially so during my formative teen years. I’d been to a few shows over the years and seeing him five feet from me in a homey living room was more than a little surreal.
“Sorry to crash your party.” Simon nodded to Ian. “This one wouldn’t let me enjoy my vacation with my family until we got this song out of his head.”
“You’re singing together?” I blurted out.
Simon smiled the crooked smile that had made my teen—and twenty-nine-year-old—self swoon. “I told him it had to count as one of his Christmas presents.”
I laughed. “Sounds like my brothers.”
“Bartering is the way the world works when you have so many people invading your life.” Simon waggled his eyebrows and slipped by me to join his brother near the food.
“Surreal,” I whispered.
“I know. I still have to pinch myself half the time. Nice to see you again, Ocean.”
“Hi, Ivy.” I smiled as my brother got in the middle of Simon and Ian and they all started talking about music. Half notes, eight-quarter somethings in a song and a bridge that Ian and Simon were wrestling with.
My brother was quiet at first, but I watched a little spark unfurl as he threw out a few words for a lyric.
Ian jumped up. “Yes! Wait! I need my notebook.” He whirled around twice as if confused.
Simon rolled his eyes, then he held up the leather journal and Ian snatched it. “Thanks.”
The three of them bent their head over the pages. The language of music was nearly indecipherable to me, but my muscles relaxed as Q melted into the moment.
Rory came into the living room with a beer. He stopped at Ivy and gave her a quick kiss. “I promise, we’re not going to work all night.”
She shook her head. “You know that’s a lie.” She nodded her head toward the guys. Three acoustic guitars had appeared, and the coffee table had been pushed back to make more room.
Rory sighed. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She looped an arm around his back. “Ellie just texted me that she has an opening for tonight. I’m going to drop Rhiannon at her bestie’s house, and you guys can play.”
“What about Ocean?”
I glanced from Ivy to Rory. “Actually, I have an ulterior motive for my visit. And it has to do with Ivy.”
“Oh.” He looked blankly at me, then realization dawned. “Oh, girl talk.” He looked as if he had more questions, but then he just shook his head. “My ginger fairy will fix it all. I’ll leave her in your capable hands.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “You just want to go play with your friends.”
“They are my best mates…”
“Go. I’m going to go spend your money on very fabulous hair.”
He laughed as he headed over to the guys. “You already have fabulous hair, love.”
Ivy waved him off. “We all need a little spiffing up,” she whispered to me. “Honestly, this works out. Especially since I have a very special present for Rory for Christmas.”
“Mama!” Rhiannon clomped over, still in her boots. “Can we go to Katie’s house now? Da’s being boring with his music friends.”
We both laughed.
“Get your coat on.” Ivy tucked a strand of ginger hair around Rhiannon’s ear.
She nodded and took off, clomping to the closet.
“I’m sorry to kind of put you on the spot, but I’m a little desperate.”
“Really? What can I do to help?”
“How about I drive, and I’ll tell you in the car?”
“Deal.” Ivy grinned. “I hate driving at night.”
We all put on our winter gear again and waved to the men, who barely looked up. They’d be at it for hours, I feared.
Rhiannon sang along to Taylor Swift as we drove the winding roads of the suburbs to her bestie’s place a few streets over.
“Is something wrong with Quentin?”
“Oh, no. This is all about my drama.”
“Good.”
I laughed.
Ivy snorted. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just know Ian has been through the ringer with the fame stuff. I didn’t want it to be the same for Quentin.”
Since the trip to Katie’s house was so short, I didn’t get into my story until after we dropped off Ivy’s daughter.
Katie’s mom waved from the porch as Rhiannon jumped down from the backseat. “See you later, Mom!”
Ivy rolled down her window. “Call me when you want to get picked up. Your dad sucks at checking his texts.”
Rhiannon stopped beside the car. “It’s okay. Katie’s mom said she’d drive me home. We’re gonna watch movies and play a new game.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you!” She waved as she took off up the driveway to the house. A blond girl met her on the porch and little girl squeals split the night.
“Not mad about having a few hours away from that.” Ivy sagged against her seat. “She’s always screaming about something lately.”
I glanced down at Ivy’s hand placement on her middle, then at her shining eyes.
“Christmas bundle?”
Ivy swiveled to look at me. “Oh, God, can you tell?” She patted her middle. “It’s mostly ice cream and sweets, I swear.”
I laughed. “You’re beautiful as ever. Just inferred from what you said earlier and then…” I gestured to where her hand was laying over her belly protectively.
She sighed. “It’s been tough to keep it from Rory. I want it to be a surprise. We talked about another one, but things are always so crazy with his job and the travel. But since we’ve been sticking closer to the Cove…” She trailed off.
“Are you happy?”
“Oh, definitely. Rory loves being a dad. Just so funny that the water struck again. It’s kinda how we got together the first time.”
“The water?”
“It’s sort of part of town lore. Mostly because the baby boom is fast and furious in Crescent Cove. Surprise babies are a staple here.” She exhaled. “Rory and I met because of a snowstorm. Not as bad as this one, but he ended up stranded at the diner I used to work in. One thing led to another and welp! Baby makes three. Well, at first, I thought it was just baby makes two. Rory was only in the area for work, and we had a bit of a fling.”
“Wow.”
“I know. Kismet, I guess. Not as easy as all that, of course, but snowstorms always make me a little nostalgic.” She grinned over at me in the dim lights shining into the SUV from the holiday decorations on Katie’s house. “Rory too. Last night was a little wild. Kinda like when we first got together.” She fanned her face.
Laughing, I put the car in reverse to back down the driveway. “Where are we headed?”
“Into town. To Dye For is right on Main Street.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
I was stunned that Rory and Ivy’s story was so much like mine and Hudson’s.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“It’s kind of a shot in the dark. After you telling me your story, you’re not even going to believe mine.”
“Try me.”
I told her about the storm and Hudson’s car spinning out into the yard of my rental.
Ivy’s slapped her hand over her mouth, then she gave a bawdy laugh. “You did not have a mystery fling with a stranger too!”
“I did. I can’t even believe I’m saying it, but I did.”
I turned onto Main Street and scanned the street for a parking spot when Ivy warned me the salon was close by.
“I mean, I love a good romantic story, but I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Well, you’re from this town. The way Rory tells it, you kinda know everyone.”
“Your guy is a local?”
“Not exactly.” I spotted an open parking space and flicked on my blinker before someone else saw it. Quickly, I parallel-parked right outside a clothing shop.
“I’m jealous that you can do that,” Ivy said as she unclipped her seatbelt. “I’m lucky I can pull into a parking spot without having to straighten out.”
I laughed. “My dad and four brothers were very thorough on the driver’s lessons.”
I grabbed my bag and hopped out, meeting Ivy on the sidewalk. The streets were plowed as well as possible, but at least the sidewalks were salted. Main Street was a postcard, even with the mounds of snow.
The streetlights reminded me of old gas-lit lanterns. A horizontal pole stuck out from each where evergreen wreaths swung in the breeze, alternating red and gold bows fluttering happily. The storefronts were decorated in varying levels of cheer. Some quiet and traditional, some wild with color.
Last-minute shoppers bustled around us as the stores had signs welcoming people in with extended holiday hours for one more day.
Somehow Christmas Eve was tomorrow.
Ivy and I moved into the flow of traffic, hanging a left when we reached the To Dye For sign. It shouted farmhouse chic with white lights and buffalo-check plaid bows being their main source of holiday decorations.
The bell jingled above us, a sprig of mistletoe dancing with it.
“Ivy! You made it.” A woman with light brown hair came forward clad in a black apron with a half dozen pockets. Embroidered mistletoe decorated the top right near her name, Ellie, in gold thread. “Oh, and you brought a friend.”
Ivy smiled sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. Rory is in work mode and the little get-together became a writing session.”
Ellie laughed. “No problem. Same thing happens in my house only our version includes paints and graphite dust everywhere.”
The two laughed. All but Ellie’s chairs were full, including a barber’s chair with a mountain of a man splayed out with shaving cream down his neck. The smartly dressed barber was wielding an honest-to-God straight razor, making very precise swipes over his client’s stubble.
“Would you two like some Prosecco? Or maybe still or sparkling water?”
“Sparkling water would be great,” Ivy said.
I nodded. “Same.”
Ellie patted her black hairdresser’s chair, and then she disappeared.
Ivy climbed up into it and turned to me. “So, who are you looking for?”
“Hudson’s brother is local. His name is Callum MacGregor. I thought you might know him.”
“Did you say Callum?”
I turned to Ellie’s voice. “Yes. I think that was his name. Hudson kept calling him Cal.”
Ellie’s friendly eyes went cool. “Callum is my husband.”
Well, shit.