Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“You’re later than usual,” Gram said when Nora came into the living room.
“I had to drive Ivy Ryman home after school. Her car wouldn’t start.”
Gram closed her novel around her finger to hold her place. “I don’t really think that’s your job, is it?”
“Definitely not.” Nora lumped her bag on the floor.
“Her millionaire father couldn’t fire up one of his sports cars to come get her?”
“He wasn’t home. He was flying to New York.”
“So what would the girl have done if you hadn’t driven her home?”
Nora pulled a throw pillow from the corner of the sofa and sat down, hugging it in her lap. “I have no idea.” She twisted around into a lying position and stuffed the pillow behind her head. “And I think she’ll be in that big mansion all alone for the night.”
Gram’s eyes rounded. “That man left his seventeen-year-old at the house all night by herself?”
“As far as I can tell. The housekeeper lives in the guesthouse, apparently, but there’s no one in the main house to watch over her.”
“That’s unbelievable.” Gram opened her book back up, dog-eared the page, and set it on the table. “Do you have her number to check on her or anything?”
Nora shook her head and closed her eyes. “No. But she’s coming to my office during first period, so if she doesn’t come to school for any reason, I’ll know right away.”
“That’s not going to help her tonight, though, is it?”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. Ivy’s after-school activities aren’t my place. You said yourself that I shouldn’t bring my work home with me. And I have to draw the line with what’s appropriate.” The words were easy to say, but she couldn’t shake her worry for Ivy.
Gram clapped her hands together. “You’re right.” She stood up. “Come to the kitchen table with me. I want to show you what I’ve got planned for our trip. It’ll be the perfect way to take your mind off work.”
Nora swung her feet around to the floor and stood.
“I got us the cottage,” Gram said, bringing the laptop to life at the table.
Nora rooted around in the fridge and pulled out an apple while Gram pulled up the online listing. “You haven’t seen all the pictures of this place.”
Nora sliced the apple on a plate and added a dollop of peanut butter. Then she took it over to the table and pulled up a chair beside Gram. Her grandmother scrolled through the photos of serene beach images, one by one. The white bungalow on a beachside hill was the epitome of relaxation with its wide porch on stilts and cushioned porch swing. Nora could almost hear the softly lapping turquoise water on the white sand beaches as she nibbled her apple slices.
Gram tapped the photo of a white porch swing full of pillows with a view of the Gulf of Mexico. “You can pile all your favorite books on that little table next to this swing and read to your heart’s content.”
The location seemed secluded; the nearest cottage was a couple of minutes’ walk down the beach. It would be the perfect place to recharge.
“It looks absolutely amazing.” Nora couldn’t wait to feel the sand between her toes and fill her lungs with briny air, leaving all her troubles behind.
“And there’s a crushed seashell path leading right down the hill to a patio full of Adirondack chairs that overlook the water,” Gram added as she showed her a photo. “It even has a fire pit. We could make s’mores.” Her eyes glittered with anticipation.
Nora dipped an apple slice into the peanut butter and scooped some up. “When do we leave?”
“The day after school ends.”
“And you’ve got it all reserved and everything?”
“Yep.” Gram flashed a wide smile. “It’ll be the perfect retreat for the two of us. We can make ice-cream sundaes, carry cocktails down to the beach… I’d like to start packing right now.”
Nora laughed. “How long’s the rental?”
“Well, the cancellation they had was a two-week wedding and honeymoon—the couple decided to elope in the Bahamas instead.”
“Two weeks?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a long time. Are you sure you want to spend that amount of money? That cottage isn’t cheap.”
“You can’t put a price on relaxation,” Gram said, taking Nora’s hands. “We’ll spend our days basking in the glorious sun until we doze off. We’ll read books, drink wine, and sit on the porch until the stars fill the sky. I want that as long as I can have it. No matter the price.”
“It will be so nice to spend time with just the two of us,” Nora said, getting excited. “We could hunt for seashells, browse the beach shops, and play cards like we used to on holidays.”
“That’s the spirit.” Gram stood up and scooted the laptop toward Nora. “You keep browsing all the fun things we’ll do. I’m going to get a bath and put on my nightgown. My shoulders are aching, and I need to soak them.”
“Are you going to have dinner?”
“I ate early,” Gram said. “But I did leave you the rest of the pizza. It’s in the fridge.”
Nora’s face lit up. “You made pizza?”
“I did. And it’s your favorite—the sourdough with three cheeses.”
“That sounds delicious.” Nora rolled her head around. “I might eat and then come in after you.”
“You should.” She put a hand on Nora’s arm. “Don’t overwork yourself in these final days of the school year. Just wrap things up and get your mind into summer mode.”
“Okay.”
When Gram left, Nora tried to follow her grandmother’s advice. She chewed her lip in thought as she slid the pizza in the microwave. It would’ve been easier to put a finishing touch on things if she hadn’t run off Ivy’s family therapist. Now she’d somehow managed to put herself in charge of finding the girl’s next therapist.
The microwave beeped, and she added the warmed slice to her plate of apple, returning to the laptop at the table.
Ivy was like high tide, that swell of water that could overtake Nora. She couldn’t wait for the summer when she could wade into the warm months slowly and bask in the calmer pace of life. But she’d never get to that point if she didn’t get Ivy’s therapy squared away. She needed to speak to Blaze. How should she approach him?
She took a bite of savory pizza and focused on the laptop in front of her. While the water ran in the bathroom down the hall, she clicked off the cottage and opened her social media, then typed “Blaze Ryman” into the search bar. His public page came up. Her eyes widened at the number of followers: 104k. How many people was he following? Twenty-six. Sheesh.
His most recent post was a photo of him and a tall, thin, doe-eyed redhead with perfectly pouty lips, her arm draped around him. The caption read: Stealing the fabulous Kasey Miles, Broadway sensation, and bringing her to Nashville. New York, I might let her come back… #risingstar . That must have been the singer Ivy had mentioned. The woman’s sequined mini-skirt, oversized dangly earrings, and stilettos were a far cry from Nora’s cotton blouse and wide-legged trousers. She turned her attention to Blaze, with his massive watch that peeked out from the sleeve of his high-end suit. A couple of half-empty champagne glasses sat on the table next to them. Even in a photo there was an air of confidence about him that made Nora feel small. He seemed so sure of himself, almost superior or self-important. Was he that stylish in real life? Or had he put on his best in an attempt to impress Ms. Miles?
She’d find out soon enough. She needed to know when he was coming home so she could schedule a meeting. With another bite of her slice, she scrolled through a few more posts, looking for any clue as to when he’d return. A photo of him at the airport came up—a selfie in front of the window with a view of the plane. The caption read: Headed to the stars. Back soon, Nashville!
Nothing helpful.
She continued. There was a photo of him with Dolly Parton, the two of them laughing together, and another of him fist-bumping Willie Nelson. He certainly knew the best in the business. He probably dated the best too. She tore her eyes from his kind smile and rugged good looks and tried to focus on her task. She went into his stories to see if she could find anything there. The first one was a video of him in a taxi, filming the New York streets. “Here I am, in the Big Apple. It’s looking gorgeous, don’t you think?” He turned the camera around and offered a goofy, cheesy smile, making her laugh.
She clicked to the next frame: his feet, walking along the sidewalk during the day. He had some kind of designer sneakers… “I’m starving,” his smooth, deep voice said through her laptop speakers. “I’m probably going to have sushi to impress a client, but I really want a slice of pizza and a beer…”
She stopped, mid-chew, feeling a small bond with him just then. But pizza wasn’t exactly a unique preference. She took another bite.
In the next story, he tossed his suitcase onto a hotel bed. “Made it! I’m off to meet a talented singer tonight.” He turned the phone around. “I’m so excited to get her into the studio. I love giving new talent a shot. We all start at the beginning, don’t we? Wish me luck!”
After a few more videos, Nora landed on one where he’d put on a fur coat in a designer shop. He filmed himself in the mirror, looking absolutely ridiculous. “What do you think? Is it me?”
“Definitely not,” she said.
He slipped it off and handed it to the store clerk. “I’ll think about it.” He made a face into the camera.
She chuckled.
Blaze Ryman didn’t seem as intimidating as he had in the glossy photos on his timeline. She preferred hearing him talk. He had a personable, casual way about him, and she could see why he was so popular. But no matter how successful he was—he was doing something most people would give their right arm to do for a living—he should be home with his daughter. At least more often.
She refreshed the feed, and a brand-new story popped up. She opened it.
“After a full day, I’m heading to the airport tomorrow! Back home I go,” he said. “Another amazing day.”
Perfect.
Nora channeled her determination to get ahold of this man as soon as he landed in Nashville.