Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Cece listened to the final thirty seconds one more time, finger resting lightly on the trackpad. Her own voice faded out, Joe’s music rising underneath it. She let it play through to silence, then closed the laptop.
That was it.
She sat there for a moment longer, hands folded, resisting the urge to reopen it and change something small just to be changing it. She’d done that twice this morning. At some point, you had to let a thing be what it was.
A knock sounded at the front door, Joe’s familiar three-beat rhythm.
Cece smiled and went to let him in.
He stood on the porch holding a bakery box in one hand and a Publix bag of grapes and strawberries in the other, sunglasses perched on top of his head. “Breakfast has arrived.”
“So I see.” She took both. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen. “I bought quiche and fruit. A much more balanced offering than the coffee cake and ice cream I was considering.”
She laughed. “You were not.” He ate much better than that. “What kind of quiche is it?”
“Spinach and feta, which I think you said was one of your favorites.”
“It is. I’m impressed you remembered.” She set the box on the counter.
“I do my best.”
His best was pretty good. Cece turned on the oven and slid the quiche inside to warm while Joe washed the fruit at the sink, at home in her kitchen. She poured coffee for both of them, added a splash of creamer and a little sweetener, then carried the mugs out to the porch.
Joe joined her and they sat side by side, the morning light still soft. A gentle breeze moved through the palms, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass. Somewhere nearby, a screen door clanked shut.
“So,” Joe said, lifting his mug. “Did you finish the first episode?”
“I did,” she said. “At least, I’m done fooling with it. Which is probably the same thing.”
He smiled. “At a point, you just have to decide you’re done. I think songwriting is sort of the same way.”
They drank their coffee, going quiet for a moment.
“There’s something new going on,” Cece said, because she was interested in his take. “With the Queen Bees, I mean.”
“Oh?” Joe turned slightly toward her, listening.
“A new resident. Darcy Lane. She had an uncomfortable run-in with Paige at the fitness center, even implied she knows something personal about Paige’s past. Maude’s been looking into her online.
So have I, a little. Not much there so far.
” Cece paused. “Then her name showed up on the new resident list I got for The Buzz.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “And?”
“I reached out to her for an interview,” Cece said. “Haven’t heard back yet. But if she agrees, I’ll have a chance to talk to her. See what she’s about.”
Joe considered that. “You think she will?”
“I do,” Cece said. “People who think they’re important, which is how she comes off, usually say yes. Anything to talk about themselves.”
“And you’re thinking you might get some questions answered. More than just the standard interview kind.”
“Exactly.”
The oven timer went off. Cece stood. “Let’s eat.”
They went back in and fixed up plates, then brought the quiche and fruit out to the porch to sit, plates balanced on their knees. Joe took a bite and nodded, satisfied.
“This is good,” he said.
“That bakery is great,” Cece replied. “I think Maude does their website.”
“Maybe I should get her to do one for my songwriting.”
“Not a bad thought. You never know what might come of it.”
They ate slowly, the conversation drifting back to the podcast, to music, to nothing in particular. Still, Darcy lingered at the edge of Cece’s thoughts. She had so many questions waiting to be answered.
And maybe they would be soon, she thought. If Darcy thought she was all that, Cece couldn’t see a reason she’d turn down the interview.
She broke off a piece of the quiche with her fork, then glanced over at Joe. “How are things with Natalie’s divorce?”
He didn’t answer right away. He chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of coffee. “Getting there,” he said. “It’s going to be a long road, but we’re headed in the right direction.”
“That sounds good. Like progress, anyway,” Cece said.
“It is,” he agreed. “She’s tired, which I’m sure you know. This divorce is wringing her out more than she lets on. But I can tell she’s starting to look toward the future again instead of just bracing herself for what’s coming next.”
Cece nodded. She’d seen that look on Natalie’s face before—the one that said I’ll handle it, even when that was hard. “She’s stubborn,” Cece said.
Joe smiled a little. “That might run in the family.”
“Maybe,” Cece said, shooting him a look. “By the way, I told her what was going on with me.”
“I heard,” he said. “She mentioned that the last time we spoke. She’s very concerned about you.”
“I feel the same way about her.”
“I’m doing everything I can for her and Tyler. They’re going to be fine.”
“I have no doubt, not with you helping them.” Cece smiled at that and reached for her coffee again. “And for that, I’m very glad.”
Joe popped half a strawberry in his mouth and looked out toward the water while he chewed. “She asked about the podcast, by the way. Wanted to know if I knew when it was going live.”
“That’s sweet,” Cece said. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let her know. I really need to get the second episode done. Or at least in progress. I can’t just put the first episode out there without having the next one in the works.”
“You going to do one a week?”
“That’s my plan.” And a good reminder that she needed to follow up with the folks she’d reached out to again. She’d done that with a few who’d responded, but she needed to get them scheduled and start working on questions for them.
“Natalie also said she’s proud of you,” he added. “I could tell she meant it, too.”
Happy warmth filled Cece. “She’s the best.”
They finished their food, then both went back in to clean up and refill their coffee before returning to the porch.
Joe tipped his chair back slightly and rested one ankle over the other. “So who’s up next?” he asked. “For the second episode, I mean.”
Cece laughed under her breath. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. But I’m working on it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve reached out to a few people, and everyone is busy. Or traveling. Or meaning to get back to me. Makes it hard to schedule anything.” She lifted one shoulder. “I get it. Life doesn’t stop just because I decided to start a podcast.”
Joe nodded. “True.”
“I want the second episode’s guest to feel planned,” Cece went on. “Not like I grabbed whoever happened to be available. I’ve got a list, but coordinating schedules is turning into its own full-time job.”
She took a sip of coffee, then stopped, her gaze sharpening as a thought clicked into place. She looked at him.
Joe noticed. “Uh-oh.”
She lowered her mug slowly. “What would you say to being my second guest?”
He blinked. “Me?”
“You,” she said. “You already wrote the music. Which makes you a part of this from the ground up. And you’ve got stories to tell, I know you do. About your work, about retiring, about pursuing something that was always a dream. You’d be perfect.”
He considered that, rubbing his thumb along the handle of his mug. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly headline material.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Cece said. “Neither am I. Neither are any of these people. Okay, maybe Blaise is a little, but I wanted to start off with someone big to get some attention. You’d be great.”
He smiled at that. “You’re serious.”
“I am,” she said. “We could talk about creativity, about second chances, about how you were able to take a chance and try something you always dreamed about. It wouldn’t be an interrogation, I promise. Just a conversation.”
Joe was quiet for a moment, the breeze dancing across the porch. “Let me think about it,” he said finally.
“Of course,” Cece said. “No pressure. You can listen to the first episode, if you want. Get a feel for how it would go.”
“I might do that.”
“I’ll send you the file today.”
Joe shook his head and let out a small laugh. “You know, I should probably say no just to preserve some of the mystery in this relationship.”
Cece smiled. “You don’t have any mystery. I’ve heard all your stories. Well, most of the good ones.”
“Fair point.” He glanced out toward the water, then back at her. “What would you actually want to talk about?”
She thought quickly, coming up with a few concrete topics. “Your music,” she said. “How you ended up where you are now. What it’s like to be creative at this age, because I think a lot of people believe you hit a certain age and the well dries up.”
“That is definitely not true.” He considered what she’d said, nodding slowly. “That sounds good.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a maybe,” he said.
“Is there anything you don’t want to talk about?”
“Why I left the law. I can talk about it vaguely, but no details.”
Even she didn’t know that story, so she was okay with that. People were allowed to have secrets. “I’m fine with that. We won’t talk about anything you don’t want to.”
“Okay.” He took a breath and nodded. “Then that’s a yes.”