Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ESTELLE
Then
Estelle paced back and forth behind the small, canopy-covered stage where she was about to perform, her long skirt swishing around the scuffed cowboy boots she’d picked up at a flea market outside Tuscaloosa back in July.
Raymond—or Ray as he’d asked her to call him—had said he’d be there, but so far, she’d not had a single sighting.
She peered around the corner again at the crowded lawn. Where was he?
They’d been trying to get their schedules to match up ever since she’d reached out back in August, but he was a busy man who traveled a lot, and she hadn’t exactly been able to predict where she’d be from week to week.
After the county fair fiasco, she’d headed back to Alabama for a while, landing a few gigs in the Huntsville area.
One bar had even booked her two weeks in a row when their regular act got sick, so she’d been able to rent a room at a nearby motel for a change.
But then Ray had told her it wasn’t likely he’d make it out that way any time soon so if she could find something closer to where he was in Memphis, that would be better.
Consequently, she’d called every small town from Starkville, Mississippi to Dyersburg, Tennessee asking about work, and the Fall Fest organizer here in Tupelo was the only one that had come through.
The folk trio currently on stage finished their set to rowdy applause that made adrenaline course through Estelle’s body like it always did before she went on.
Her fingers fiddled with her favorite pick as she tipped her head and said a quick prayer.
Thank you for your blessings and please let Raymond Clark show up. Amen.
After finding his business card that night in the car, his name had become synonymous with hope for Estelle.
He’d been interested in her work. Encouraging.
Invested possibly. She was vaguely aware that she might have embellished the memory of their conversation along the way, but with no other glimmers of light on the horizon, the dreamer in her had taken full reign of this one chance.
She’d rather be disappointed later than never try at all, and in this case, that meant getting Ray to come watch her perform again.
Something good would happen if he did. Something better than her current situation. Not that the bar was very high.
Her name was called, and the crowd’s lukewarm welcome laid down the gauntlet for her set. She’d show them. Make them miss her when she was gone. They just didn’t know it yet.
She sat down on the stool provided and slung her guitar into place.
As she introduced herself, she tried to shade her eyes against the blaring spotlight to see if she could spot him, but it was no use.
The audience melded together into a chattering gray mass, so all Estelle could do was play her best and trust that it would pay off.
She needed a change like the farm fields around them needed water, and Ray Clark had to be the conduit because there was no one else.
She warmed up with a few crowd-pleasing covers, the guitar and her voice rising toward the darkening sky like a beacon in the night, drawing the attention of anyone with a soul within hearing range.
She knew she had them when her first original song, “At My Father’s Side,” brought out lighters waving in time with her strumming, and when her forty-five minutes were drawing to an end, she noted absently that the talking had stopped completely.
It was just her on stage, speaking to them, and there was no doubt they were listening.
The question was, was he listening too?
As Estelle got off stage to thunderous applause, she paused at the bottom of the stairs leading down onto the grass and closed her eyes to try to capture the feeling.
Chances were, everyone here would have already forgotten about her tomorrow.
The beer was flowing, and the next band was lining up to take her place, which meant the brief time she’d just shared with these people had been as fleeting as a dream the second you wake up.
The only way to make it more substantial was to repeat it often enough that the memory of it didn’t have time to fade between each encounter.
Her breaths came rapidly where she stood, skin damp and tingling as she tried her best to hold on to that rare lightness in her heart that only ever blessed her in the wake of a performance.
It worked for a minute, but then the MC picked up his mic to introduce the next act, feedback cutting through both the cooling air and Estelle’s oasis.
“Ugh,” she groaned, her hands flying to her ears as she tipped her head up, and there he was, watching her from only a few yards away.
“Aren’t you a sight tonight,” Ray said, a grin stretching his lips wide. “Now that was a great show.” He nodded toward the stage.
His skin was tan against a light-blue shirt, his hair sun streaked and longer than last time she’d seen him. She pictured him on board a sailboat, dominating the glittering expanse with a drink in his hand, certain that’s how he’d spent his summer even though she’d never set foot on a boat.
Estelle dropped her hands to her side, smiling back. He’d come. He’d seen her play. He…
A pretty woman stepped out from behind him.
He wasn’t alone.
Her greeting stuck in her throat.
“This is my friend, Darla,” he said. “Her sister lives in North Haven, so she decided to come along.”
Friend? Estelle covered her surprise behind a renewed smile as she took stock of the other woman. Darla was younger, mid-twenties maybe, and a true Southern belle, polished and prim. Estelle stepped forward and offered her a handshake. Darla’s grip was delicate but her gaze snide.
“So you’re the singer,” she said. Not “hello” or “nice to meet you.”
Estelle shook it off. “I am.”
“And a damn fine one,” Ray said, beaming between the two of them. “Now let’s talk. Can I buy you ladies a drink?”
He steered them, one on each arm, to the beer garden where he paid someone off to clear a table for them.
Estelle caught the cash changing hands but only barely—the move was so suave.
Here, finally, was a man who knew how to carry himself in the world.
Who made it work for him. Greg had always been clueless.
She watched Ray get them beers, aware of Darla’s eyes being on him too.
“So how do you two know each other?” she asked to fill the silence.
“Our parents are friends,” Darla said. She opened her clutch and checked her make-up in a pocket mirror. “So we go way back.”
“Do you work?”
“No.”
Estelle waited for Darla to elaborate, but she didn’t, instead digging for a lipstick and reapplying. A perfect pout, fluttering lashes, a coquettish tilt of the chin…
Estelle looked down at one of the two nice blouses she owned and straightened its shoulder pads. She tucked her hair behind her ears and ran a finger under her eyes. Not that it would make much of a difference. She was a realist—next to Darla’s gazelle-like grace, she was a wildebeest at best.
“So what do you do?” Estelle pressed on. There were other ways than looks to impress a man like Ray. Ambition for one. Purpose. She knew she wasn’t imagining the mutual interest between her and Ray.
“I recently returned from Europe where I volunteered at a children’s hospital among other things. My father thought I should ‘see the world’ before settling down after I got my degree in nursing. France was lovely. As was Portugal.”
“You have a job lined up then?”
“No,” Darla said again, wrinkling her nose at Estelle. “I have other plans.”
Before Estelle could dig further, Ray returned with their beverages. “I see you’re getting acquainted,” he said. “What do you think, Dar? Isn’t she fascinating?”
The two of them leveled assessing looks at Estelle, with one being decidedly friendlier.
Darla shrugged. “This kind of music isn’t really my scene.”
“And yet here you are,” Estelle said, keeping her tone as cordial as she could muster.
“Perhaps there are more draws than one in a place like this.” Darla flashed a white smile at Ray.
Estelle suppressed a laugh. She and Darla may never be best friends, but there was something unexpectedly impressive about her lack of subtlety, and she could respect a woman with goals.
Not that she’d stand idly by and watch it happen.
A man like Ray could weather storms both real and metaphorical, and if she was ever going to have someone by her side again, his type would be the sensible choice. His good looks were, of course, a plus.
Raymond lifted his glass and proposed a toast “to new endeavors,” and when they’d finished drinking, he placed his hand, palm down, on the table between him and Estelle. “So,” he said. “Let’s get down to business. I have a proposition for you.”
Darla stirred next to him but hid her face behind another sip.
“I like the sound of that,” Estelle said.
“Come to Memphis over the holidays. I have an in with a good friend of mine who owns a restaurant that does live music. A professional sound booth. Ceilings and walls for a change.” He gestured to the open-sided tent they were in.
“We’ll call it a… collaboration. See how things go.
I’ve been wanting to dip my toes in new ventures, so why not talent management?
Especially when the talent is so delightfully… untapped. What do you think?”
Estelle held his gaze while her fingers found a lock of hair at her neck to play with.
The blush rising on her cheeks was equal parts gratification and strategy, the thrill of his pursuit made even sweeter when she glanced at Darla to see her lips flattened as if the beer was sour.
If this was a competition, Estelle was currently the one with a leg up, and that was her favorite position.
She returned her attention to Ray. “Several gigs per week?”
“Certainly.”
“Where would I stay?”
Ray paused, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Then he turned to Darla. “You’ve seen the guest suite above my garage. Do you think that would be comfortable enough for a lady?”
Darla’s lips popped open.
“Yes, I believe it would be,” Ray said in answer to his own question before facing Estelle again. “Would that work for you? It’s completely separate from the house, with a small kitchenette and a full bath.”
Estelle wanted to say yes, but there was one small problem that followed her like a stubborn stain. She hated to bring it up but had no choice. “How much?” she asked. Her wallet was light, and her income stream slow.
Ray’s eyebrows rose. “Oh no. You misunderstand. You’d be my guest. Free of charge.”
She squinted at him. Tried to camouflage her confusion at his generosity with what she hoped was a playful sparkle to her eyes. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”
He lifted his glass and drank, watching her over the rim the whole time until he set it down. Turned it on its coaster. “Not at all,” he said in a slow drawl. “I believe it to be a sound investment.”
Well then… “It’s tempting,” she said, playing coy. More tempting than any flavor life had offered in a while.
“Then you’ll come?”
It would be nice to stay in one place for a while.
Get to know Ray better. And it would also allow her to hold on to the meager funds she’d saved.
She probably needed to send something home to Greg too so he couldn’t claim abandonment and make her look completely uncaring when she filed the divorce paperwork that was still sitting in her car.
Estelle smiled and raised her glass. “I will.”