by Vella, Wendy
She produced another fake smile. “Of course.”
“How’s your family?”
“Good.”
She was closed up tight again. She didn’t want to discuss anything personal, which normally suited him. But not now. Not with her.
“I should start playing again. I’ll play two more sets.”
She turned back to the piano, and Joe watched her stretch her fingers, then rotate her wrists. She turned them over, and he caught a flash of a red scar. He grabbed her hand and pulled up the sleeve.
“What’s this?”
She tried to tug it free, but Joe didn’t release her. His eyes traced the scar that crisscrossed the lower half of her arm and down into her palm. It was raw, jagged, and looked painful. His guess was it hadn’t happened that long ago.
“What happened?” His words sounded gruff, because the thought of her in pain bothered him.
“An accident. Now let go so I can play, Joe. Your customers are waiting.”
He did, and she turned away from him. When was this accident? Frustrated, Joe walked back to the bar with more questions in his head than when he’d approached her.
“She gonna stay?” Em intercepted him.
“For a couple more sets, and come back a couple of times a week while she’s in Ryker.”
“She’s really good, Joe, and let’s face it, we should know, as we’ve had some bad ones. Plus, there’s you.”
“I’m good!” Joe thumped his chest, pretending to be outraged.
“You’re average. She’s a million leagues better.”
“There you go flattering me again. But like I told you, she’s a pro, Em.”
“It shows,” she said, and then headed off to clear some glasses. Joe served, and watched Bailey, and wondered again what had brought her back to Ryker, and why he was so pleased she had returned when there was so much they didn’t know about each other any longer, or the roads they’d taken.
To even contemplate her coming back because of him years after she’d left, he knew was a stretch, but still he wondered. And then he shut that thought away because he didn’t deserve that from Bailey. Not when he’d never returned a single one of the letters she’d written him. Not when her last words to him had been, “always remember I believe in you, Joe. Be the best person you can be.”
Weeks after she’d said that, and left his life, he’d failed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bailey woke slowly after sleeping deep, like she always did. Years of hotels had taught her to sleep anywhere. Pushing the curtains back, she saw the day promised to be a good one.
Maggs would be sleeping, as this was her day off, and she’d told Bailey she’d evict her if she made a noise and woke her.
Pulling on her robe, she tiptoed to the kitchen and made instant coffee, as she had no idea how Maggs’s coffee machine worked. She took it to the conservatory.
Mist still clung to the mountains, and she took a few minutes to just stand there and look, knowing no one and nothing had a claim on her time today. Bailey had experienced some awesome views in her lifetime, travelling the world, but she thought this may turn out to be her favorite.
She loved Maggs’s home, and the feeling of peace and solitude. She’d also enjoyed playing the piano last night, even if it was in Joe’s bar. But they could be acquaintances, she reminded herself. She just had to ignore the fact that when he was near her heart thumped harder in her chest. Their history was just that, history now. She could be friendly, and the more exposure she had to him, the calmer she would feel in his presence.
He’d called his bar Apple Sours. Bailey remembered the conversation they’d once had, where she’d said it would be a good name for a restaurant or bar.
“Let it lie, Bailey,” she told herself. There’s nothing between you now.
Deciding to walk into town to have her breakfast, and leave Maggs to sleep, she showered and dressed. Exercise had been something Bailey rarely had time for... actually, that was a lie, she’d never wanted to. Now she did.
Placing the strap of her small bag over her shoulder, she quietly opened and closed the front door.
The morning held a promise of good weather, and the air fresh as Bailey made for town. Passing the road that led to the house she’d grown up in, she walked the fifteen minutes it took to reach Ryker Falls township. It was still early, the hour just ticking over 8:00 a.m. Inhaling, she was happy the air was not filled with exhaust fumes or big city scents.
“Morning.”
Bailey smiled at the elderly man who was jogging past. If only she had that much enthusiasm for exercise. She had two passions remaining in her life, horses and music; the first she seldom had time for, the second kept her sane.
“Morning.”
“Phil’s Place has great donuts and coffee. Cinnamon and hazelnut’s my favorite. The tea rooms won’t open for another hour, so that’s your best bet if you’re heading into town for breakfast.”
The jogger was running at her side as she walked now.
“Phil, as in after the mountain, Phil?” Bailey looked behind her, and there he stood. Big and proud as he always had been, right beside but slightly back from his twin sister. She’d always thought that was because he was looking out for her.
“Roxy has her own place too. The best pizza in town.”
“Nice, and thanks for the recommendation.”
“Name’s Mr. Goldhirsh.”
Manners were something she’d had hammered into her for many years, and while she wasn’t someone who liked small talk, it would be rude not to at least give him her name. It wasn’t a secret, after all.
“Bailey Jones.”
“You played last night at Apple Sours.”
“I did, yes.”
“I was there. You have a special talent, my dear. I saw you in concert three years ago in Carnegie Hall.”
“Thank you,” Bailey said. She had learned to accept compliments with a smile.
“I never give praise if it is not deserved.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“You exercise, Miss Jones?”
“Ah—well, define exercise?” She shot Mr. Goldhirsh a look. “I mean, I walk places, and sometimes I even put in a jog.” Bailey stretched the truth.
“I mean regular exercise, the kind that has you sweating?”
He was adjusting his pace and almost jogging on the spot now, hazel eyes alert as he studied her.
“I’m really not into sweating, so I guess that’s a fail, right?”
“Never too late. I could take you running with me, if you like? Plus, we have the Ryker run/walk club. Meets Saturday morning. We could swing by and pick you up.”
Bailey stopped and faced him.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know people, and you’re trustworthy. You have an honest face.”
Until she’d come to Ryker, Bailey had kept to bigger towns, driving wherever and whenever she wanted since leaving Boston. She hadn’t struck up conversations, or made friends, just kept to herself. She’d only been back in Ryker a few days, and already she’d become reacquainted with more people than she could remember.
“I don’t trust that easily,” Bailey said before she could stop herself. “So thanks, but I need to get going.”
She walked on, certain that would be the last conversation she had with Mr. Goldhirsh.
Turned out she was wrong.
“Trusting doesn’t come easy for people, that’s true, and considering your occupation and the fame attached, I should imagine you’ve had your trust challenged a time or two, but if you don’t allow people in, then you can’t know how trusting you can be.”
He was jogging beside her again.
“You don’t deter easily is my guess, Mr. Goldhirsh.”
His eyes crinkled.
“I was born in a concentration camp, Miss Jones. I do not have time to take offence or be deterred.”
“I-I’m so sorry,” she managed to get out. The
horrors he must have known were nothing compared to her own. “I can’t image how you suffered.”
He waved her words away.
“I was but a child. It was not I who suffered, Miss Jones. I did not tell you for sympathy, just as a point of fact. Life is too short. Therefore, not trusting anyone is a shame, as it cuts you off from good people. And there are plenty of them around should you wish to look.”
You trust too easily, Bailey. Remember always that gullible fools end up hurt!
Her grandfather had loved that particular set of words.
“I’ll try to remember that, thank you, Mr. Goldhirsh.”
“And do you read, Miss Jones?”
“Read?”
“Poetry?”
She nodded, completely at sea as to where he was going with this.
“Then should you find yourself at a loose end on Sunday at 4:00 p.m., please come to my house. Right at the end of Main Street, then right. My house is the third street off the loop road. Number four, Niagara Street. I have a reading there every week. We’re into Moore at the moment.”
“As in Thomas Moore?” Bailey couldn’t help but ask.
“The very one.”
He lifted his hand and jogged away, leaving Bailey following him with her eyes. The man made her feel old, and he had years on her.
“Poetry and walking clubs, what’s next?”
Shaking her head cleared it slightly. Walking again, she saw a sign in the shape of a mountain that held a cup of steaming coffee, with the words Phil’s Place.
“That’s what I need,” Bailey muttered. That would right her world again.
Even early, it was busy. The decor was simple and modern, with white tables and chairs. One wall held leafy green plants, another a huge framed painting that looked like it probably came from Maggie’s gallery. She found a free seat at the counter.
“Morning. What can I get you?”
The woman’s smile was wide and looked familiar, but Bailey didn’t think they’d been introduced. Dark hair was pulled into a braid. She was tall, with a pretty smile, and Bailey imagined she was never short of admirers, especially given the confidence coming off her.
“Coffee and a cinnamon and hazelnut donut, thanks,” Bailey said, deciding to go with Mr. Goldhirsh’s suggestion.
“That’s my kind of morning meal.”
“They were recommended.”
“Mr. Goldhirsh, right?”
Bailey nodded.
“He’s personally increased the sales on those donuts single-handedly.”
“He’s good.”
The waitress smiled. “Sure is. Just stay strong when he tries to lure you into exercise. I couldn’t walk for days after he caught me at a weak moment.”
“I noticed he’s persistent.”
“He calls it tenacious, so be firm with him. He understands words like ‘no’ and ‘never again in this lifetime,’ but use stuff like ‘maybe’ or ‘I’ll see,’ and he’s like a rabid dog. He’ll never let go.”
Bailey found herself laughing again as the woman walked away to get her coffee. She’d done that a few times since arriving. It was weird how she’d safeguarded herself over the last few years from expressing or feeling emotion, but here.... In the place she’d been born, it was different.
“Coffee and donut.” The waitress placed her order on the counter.
“Thanks.” Bailey cradled the mug and sipped. She then ate the donut slowly, savoring the different flavors as they settled in her mouth.
“How do they rate?”
Bailey nearly fell off her chair as the deep words reached her. A large hand steadied her. Joe Trainer took the seat next to her, filling up far too much space.
His hair was damp. He wore a blue T-shirt today, and shorts sat low on his hips. He looked vibrant, alive, and sexy as hell.
“The donuts.” He pointed to her plate, and Bailey noted the wide silver band around his middle finger. “From memory, you always had a sweet tooth, so how do they rate?”
“They’re good.”
“Do I have to serve you again?”
Bailey looked at the waitress, who was smiling at Joe now. Another thought hit her then, one she’d never even considered. He could be married now, and possibly even have children. Why did that thought hurt so much?
“What’s that look for?”
“What look?” Bailey dragged her eyes from him, and focused on her plate.
“Like you just remembered something and it’s all bad.”
“No,” Bailey lied. Looking at the girl again, she saw something familiar in her face. “Are you two related?”
“I’m her cousin, what gave it away? The good looks, and sparkling charm? Although, to be fair, I’m more popular than Piper.”
“Like hell! I’m the Trainer hottie—”
“Said no one ever,” Joe drawled. He then laughed as his cousin poked out her tongue and walked away.
Bailey sipped her drink and felt suddenly uncomfortable. There had been a time she and Joe hadn’t needed words, just companionship. All that had changed now.
“Where’s Buzz?” Piper returned with Joe’s coffee.
“He stayed out late last night, so he’s snoozing in the pickup.”
“That dog has a better social life than me.” Piper moved on again to serve another customer.
“Piper is my Aunt Jess’s daughter. Do you remember the letter you—”
“I remember,” Bailey interrupted Joe. He’d wanted to write to his aunt, asking her to come and help them, and she’d helped him.
“Piper and Aunt Jess have been living with us for years.”
In spite of their backgrounds, they’d once been friends. Bailey had been raised in a household where everything had to be perfect, including her, and he was the exact opposite, raised with an abusive father, and a mother who had run away unable to cope, leaving her sons at the mercy of a bully.
“I never thanked you for that. For pushing me to write that letter.” His voice was low, so only she could hear.
“I-I’m glad it worked out for you all.”
“Donut.” Piper returned with a plate for her cousin, and broke the silence that had fallen between them.
“How are you enjoying living with Maggs, Bailey?” Joe asked.
“Bailey?” Piper Trainer studied her, then her cousin. “Bailey Jones, right?”
She nodded.
“Everyone’s been talking about you since last night. A famous person in Ryker is big news.”
“We get famous people, Pip, all the time.”
The girl braced a hand on a trim hip while she thought about that. Everything about her said strong to Bailey’s mind. Her clothes were bright, her lipstick red, and she had a confidence that Bailey envied. She’d been late to find her backbone, but it was there now, and she wasn’t going back to being submissive anytime soon... if ever.
“Sure, but they never perform. They’re usually up at the lodge holidaying. Any chance you could play tonight? I’ve got a hot date, and we’re coming to A.S.”
“Who is this hot date?” Joe was frowning at his cousin now, but she waved his words away with a flick of long fingers.
“I’m coming over for a free meal.”
“Why don’t you pay like everyone else?” Joe said.
“Family don’t pay?”
Bailey ate as they argued, intrigued that they did so openly. She’d been raised in a family that kept everything behind closed doors. To see Joe this way made her happy for him. He’d changed, and whatever path his life had taken after she left, it had directed him to the man he was today. Confident, happy, and from what she gathered, successful. Of course, she also knew how to put up a facade, so maybe he was hiding things like she was.
“Are you taking a break from performing because of your hand?”
She choked on the mouthful of donut. He pressed his palm into her back, and started rubbing circles between her shoulder blades while she coughed and spluttered.
“H
ere, drink this.”
She took the water Piper handed her before leaving to serve another customer, and gulped it down.
“Better?”
“S-sorry,” Bailey said, mortified. At least she hadn’t spat it everywhere.
“Those donuts really need to be savored,” Joe drawled.
“I—ah, need to go.”
“You got somewhere to be?”
“No... yes, I need to get back to Maggs. We, ah, have a thing today.”
“A thing, that sounds intriguing. I love a good thing.”
His face was right there as she turned. Lovely forest green eyes focused on her. This close, she saw a hint of brown in the green. She inhaled a deep breath of air and Joe. It was kind of spicy, with a hint of strawberries.
“Yes, she’s taking me around the town. Showing me changes.”
Bailey sniffed the air again; surely she’d got that wrong, as he didn’t seem the type to go for strawberry scent.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“What? No!” Bailey shook her head, horrified, but Joe laughed.
“It’s my shampoo. I thought I was getting just the plain no-scent type that any man would want to use; instead I looked closer at the label, and it has strawberry extracts.” His nose wrinkled. “Why the hell anyone would want to wash their hair in fruit is beyond me, but there’s no accounting for taste.”
She wouldn’t smile.
“That looks good on you.”
“What?”
“The smile. I remember those dimples.” He touched her cheek again, like he had last night. It left a trail of heat. “It’s sweet.”
“I-I’m twenty-seven,” Bailey said. “I think my sweet years are behind me.”
“I don’t think you could ever lose your sweet, Bailey Jones. You were special at thirteen, and from where I’m sitting you still are.”
Bailey got off the seat so quick she stumbled. Righting herself, she dug into her bag and found some money to pay for her meal.
“You d-don’t know me now. You can’t say that.”
“You’ll still be the same person inside, even if the facade has changed.” His green eyes were steady on her face. “Did you manage to fulfil those dreams you told me about, Bailey? The ones we shared on that winter day huddled in our secret place?”
