Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The next afternoon, after sitting at the parlor piano for the past hour, Ariel faced the facts. Tonight she had to tell the truth to the seven best writers in the country music industry: none of their new songs would work.
Worse, they’d delivered great new music. But nothing fresh.
Earl’s new song played on repeat in her mind. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to present it to the band. However, Aunt Dahlia would think it strayed too far from their brand. Ariel needed to show it to her before the meeting and get her approval.
But her aunt had left early in the morning again.
So, in her favorite straight-leg jeans, a lightweight white sweater, and Golden Goose sneakers, Ariel had ridden a rented bike to the farm for biscuits and gravy and grits with her family.
Despite the fifty-five-degree weather that felt chilly to this Southern girl.
Sammy’s lackluster greeting hadn’t warmed her any either.
Not surprising, considering his struggles.
But it had hurt. Even his new Barry the Bear toys hadn’t broken through to him.
Within the last few minutes, the sky had darkened and the wind picked up, stirring the cedar branches beyond the parlor’s wide porch.
A chill still hung in the air, even inside, so the warmer clothes felt good in this elegant room that spoke of past provision and opulence, its atmosphere dripping of long-ago hospitality and love.
Oh, the memories…
As she enjoyed this room alone for the first time, it transported her back to that evening—those last few hours she’d lived on island.
Snow melting in her hair, a few bruises on her knees, and a torn left leg of her snow pants.
An older boy in the crowd of shivering children giving her a ring of brass keys and asking her to unlock the big door so he could grab a stack of firewood.
She’d tried eleven keys before the heavy black-painted door swung open.
Ariel had thought she’d entered heaven itself as she gazed around the old Victorian-styled parlor with its fireplace popping and filling the room with delicious woodsmoke.
Mr. Kennedy played “Winterreise” by Schubert on an ancient-looking violin while his wife accompanied him on the piano, the aroma of hot cider with cinnamon and the fire’s warmth making the evening perfect.
How simple life had been back then.
Later, in the parlor, the air sparkled with the excitement of the production team’s first meeting and the band’s first rehearsal. But Ariel’s flicker had just about fizzled out, just from the thought of presenting the new song to Aunt Dahlia.
Ariel gazed across the parlor, which had come alive when their team—minus Aunt Dahlia—gathered around antique tables arranged in a circle near the food.
The way they devoured the massive platters of fried chicken, ham and cheese sliders, pimento cheese sandwiches, old-fashioned corn pudding, pecan pie, and hummingbird cake, her aunt had better hurry, or she’d go hungry.
Ariel grabbed half of a pimento cheese sandwich and a glass of sweet tea and handed a plateful of sliders and corn pudding to Caleb.
“I spent last night and this morning researching and brainstorming new ideas for the band. I decided to present Earl’s new song.
But things could get ugly if my aunt doesn’t like it. ”
Caleb chose the nearest table, set down his plate. “Even with all this Southern comfort food?”
Ariel sat next to him. “Your supper menu will improve her mood considerably. How did you find someone to cook like this way up here?”
He cocked his head toward the door. “See that dark-haired guy over there, fussing with the food? That’s my chef, Marcus. He grew up down south, in Vicksburg, so I asked him to make a Southern meal.” Caleb gave her a mischievous grin. “For y’all.”
Despite her worries, Ariel couldn’t help laughing at the way he butchered a Southern accent.
She took a bite of her creamy sandwich. Just as good as home. Apparently, Marcus knew pimento cheese spread should never touch whole-wheat bread. “Where is Aunt Dahlia, anyway? We start in five minutes.”
His mouth full, Caleb gestured to the entrance.
Beyond the giant front windows, Aunt Dahlia and Mr. Augo meandered up the old brick walk, despite the sudden wind blowing her hair into her face and shaking the branches of hundred-year-old cedar trees lining the pathway.
If those trees blew down in front of them, Ariel wasn’t sure either one would notice.
Aunt Dahlia’s entire focus and gaze rested on Augo Kennedy, her arm intertwined with his, her pretty face glowing.
Ariel blew out a long breath. “What are we going to do with those two?”
He laughed. “You and I are in danger of becoming in-laws.”
For pity’s sake. “Your uncle’s the reason she can’t seem to make time to hear my ideas. Caleb, this isn’t like her. I don’t understand what’s going on, and she won’t talk to me. She stayed out late again last night and left before I was up at seven.”
“Love can hit anybody at any age.”
Weren’t people supposed to get wiser as they got older?
“On the bright side, Granddad came an hour early. And he’ll probably shut down the evening.
” He pointed in the direction of the food table, where his grandfather gave instructions to Sarah rather than barking orders.
“Asking him to help was brilliant. It works better than physical therapy. So I guess he’s our grandfather now, not just mine, since you’ve adopted him. ”
It seemed so. Ariel liked it that way. Or would have, if she didn’t sense she was gaining an uncle too.
“What do you think of the parlor setup?” Caleb took a big bite of the corn pudding. “Hey, this is good. I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Most Northerners think it’s a dessert, so they don’t want to try it. And this room—it looks even more beautiful at night. Yesterday, I didn’t notice twinkle lights on the bookcases and around the entrance and windows. Did you put them up?”
“The ambience was Granddad’s idea.”
“You both did a great job. This room couldn’t feel more homey and inviting.
” The musicians had finished eating and scattered about the room, alone or in groups, talking and jamming, the sounds of stray notes and riffs punctuated by percussion.
Ariel and Caleb stood too, taking in the happy noise and anticipation in the room.
“I came by earlier, and your grandfather was in here alone. He gave me a lesson on the upright bass.”
“You’ll be popping that thing onstage in no time.
” Caleb stepped closer, deliciously invading her space a little, his dark eyes turning smoky and his voice deep.
His nearness and attentiveness felt right, felt safe.
At that moment, she wanted nothing but to close the distance between them, to let him take her in his arms, to kiss her.
Which might have been fine if it didn’t take place in full view of their entire team. And if Ariel didn’t have bigger things on her mind. She stepped away and turned her attention to the event, her face heating, sure he could hear her thoughts.
Aunt Dahlia and Mr. Augo made their appearance at last, then wandered from table to table, still shaking hands and making small talk five minutes after the meeting’s starting time.
Then Mr. Augo caught sight of Ariel and actually left her aunt’s side, ambling toward them while taking in the sight of the parlor.
Right. As far as she knew, he hadn’t been in this room for twelve years either.
“I heard you turned a fan into a friend, Ariel.” Mr. Augo turned his brown eyes on her, their gentleness startling her. “You’re the first ray of sunshine he’s had since—” He dropped his gaze, visibly swallowing hard. “Since the day our family fell apart.”
Fell apart. Her throat tightened at the words, at this man’s vulnerability.
And for the first time, she saw him. The raw, unguarded expression of grief in his eyes.
The roughness of his voice as he hinted at the pain of losing his nephew and niece-in-law, who’d probably meant the world to this single, childless man.
Grief he still carried today.
And while Ariel still didn’t feel ready to embrace him as an uncle, she did want to be his friend. So she opened her arms and gave him a quick hug, which he modestly returned.
Wouldn’t you know, he’d touched her heart and complicated her feelings about his budding relationship with Aunt Dahlia. If only Augo Kennedy wasn’t such a handsome, likeable man…
“Time to start.” Her aunt’s peppy, happy voice broke the moment as she called the musicians to the makeshift stage. Which was nothing more than an area the production crew had cleared near the piano and filled with instruments, speakers, mics, and music stands.
“Pray for me to make it through this meeting,” Ariel whispered to Caleb. “I believe in Earl’s song, but Aunt Dahlia’s gonna reject it.”
“You’ll do great. Look what you’ve accomplished in the last twenty-four hours.
You tamed the lion in his suite last night and lured him back to the stage.
Without even trying, you succeeded in acquiring the parlor for rehearsals.
And now you have some of the best minds in country music right here to help you with your next success. ”
“There’s a big difference between securing a venue and leading a band of highly experienced and respected musicians and writers in a new direction.
I should have refused this job and let my aunt reimagine her own band.
” Because what did Ariel know about image-making?
“I came into this agreement completely against my will.”
However, that didn’t mean she could fail.
“You’re up first,” he said. “Nervous?”
“Singing to an audience of five thousand is nothing compared to this.” She glanced around the room, at the musicians, the writers. At Earl, who sat tapping his pencil on the table. Debated for the hundredth time whether to present “Mercy Song.”