by Rula Sinara
“Lucky for me, I had followed a repairman in there one day to put something away, and let the door slam behind me. He taught me some very colorful language...and that giving the push lever a good kick would pop the latch. I didn’t have his height or girth, so it took a couple tries, but eventually it worked.”
“In that case, it fits.” Sam began counting on his fingers. “You’re a dynamite businesswoman, a great cook, a loving sister and daughter, a loyal friend, super easy on the eyes and an escape artist.” He shook his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t handle compliments very well, so knock it off, will ya?”
“If you want less praise, you’ll have to quit being so darned near perfect.”
Ciara leaned over to ask if Finn planned to give a speech welcoming everyone to the reopening.
“Not a chance.”
Sam hmphed quietly.
“What?” she said, elbowing him playfully. “You think I should?”
“Couldn’t hurt.” Nodding toward the reporters and cameras, he added, “They’ll eat it up.”
“I wouldn’t have a clue what to say. And I barely passed public speaking in high school.”
Turning, Sam gently gripped her shoulders. “Just be yourself and speak from your heart, and they’ll love you.”
She caught sight of the crowd in her peripheral vision. “And if they don’t?”
“I’ll eat my hat.”
“You aren’t wearing a hat,” she said, grinning up at him.
Sam helped himself to one of Rowdy’s chef’s caps and put it on. “Want me to get their attention for you?”
She stared out at the crowd, one of the biggest in The Right Note’s history, and laughed softly. “And just how would you do that? Jumping jacks? Tap dancing? Both?”
He patted his injured thigh. “Jumping and dancing? I dunno... But I’d do it for you.”
Finn believed him.
“I’ve mastered a whistle that’s guaranteed to quiet ’em down, at least long enough to make a proper introduction.”
She surveyed the packed diner again. “Oh, I don’t know, Sam...”
Before she had a chance to stop him, he brought his fingers to his lips. The shrill blast caused an instant hush in the room.
“Just a few words from your generous hostess, ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a loud, clear voice, “I give you Finn Leary, The Right Note’s owner.”
“You can do this, kiddo,” Rowdy said.
“Go get ’em, boss!” Bean added.
Connor and Ciara stood near the old-fashioned brass cash register, nodding and giving the thumbs-up sign. She could almost hear Pete saying, “Well, what’re you waitin’ for, Houdini...Christmas?”
“I just want to say how grateful all of us are that you joined us. It means so much that you’re spending part of your day here, helping kick off the new and improved Right Note. I think those of you who knew Pete can probably hear him saying, ‘Yer the best, all o’ yas!’”
“Atta boy, Pete!” said a man near the door.
“We’ll never forget you, Petey!” yelled a woman at the end of the snack bar.
Surrounded by friends—and Pete’s loving memory—Finn continued, “To show our appreciation for your support, dessert is on us today.”
She concluded with another thank-you and, moved by the hearty applause, headed for the kitchen.
Sam stepped up behind her. “See there? You did great.” He turned her to face him. “And they loved you, too.”
Why the emphasis on they?
“I don’t think I could have done it if you hadn’t been here to break the ice and introduce me...” And offer moral support.
“’Course you could have.” His fingertip traced the contour of her jaw. “You can do anything, remember?”
Finn held her breath; the last time he’d looked at her this way, he had kissed her. Or had she kissed him? Not that it made any difference. Standing in the circle of his strong arms, she’d felt vulnerable and safe and more womanly than she ever had before...all at the same time. And because it scared her, she’d tried putting some distance between them to figure out if she could trust him. Until this moment, looking into eyes that glowed with kindness and caring—for her—she hadn’t considered the possibility that he might be battling the same fears.
“Thanks, Sam,” she said, taking a half step closer.
“For what?”
Finn shrugged, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, and hoped the gesture would be answer enough. She wasn’t ready to say the words out loud.
At least, not yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“YOU FEELING OKAY, SWEETIE?”
Ciara groaned. “Why do you keep—keep asking me that?”
Finn smoothed her sister’s silky hair. “Because you’ve been a little peaked the past day or so. Are you sleeping okay?”
“I’m—I’m sleeping fine.” She rummaged through her closet and withdrew a knee-length skirt and long-sleeved turtleneck. “Do you think this will be okay for tonight?”
“The spotlights might make things hot if we’re sitting close to the stage. Maybe a lighter shirt will be more comfortable.”
“Good idea.” After returning the turtleneck to its shelf, she held up a white top. “This one?”
“Perfect.”
“And I could wear my cowboy boots?”
“You’ll look like a real cowgirl.”
“What time are we getting there?”
The earlier, the better, Finn thought. Get a seat up front, watch Connor play the first set and quietly leave during the break. She glanced at the black-and-white guitar clock Misty had sent Ciara for her last birthday. “If we leave here at eight, we can take our time walking over and still sit near the stage.” And get you home early enough for a good night’s sleep.
“It’s seven now, so I have a whole hour to get ready.” She smiled at Finn. “What are you going to wear tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Jeans and my pink blouse, maybe.”
“With your white sandals? It’ll be cold outside soon, and, and you won’t be able to show off your pink toenails.”
“Maybe. Call the diner office when you’re finished in the shower, okay? I have a few bills to pay.” Thanks again, Pete... The job would have taken half the time if she hadn’t been so stubborn about doing everything his way. Someday—
Ciara surprised her with a huge hug. “Thank you, Finn.”
“For what?” The exact words Sam had said...
“For being the best sister, ever.” Another hug, and then, “I’m so excited to see Connor sing and play. And Sam! Are you excited, too?”
Afraid was more like it. But instead, she said, “You bet I am.”
Finn sat at her desk and set a timer for twenty minutes, but even before filling out the first check, Connor barged in, shouting angrily into his phone. Normally, she detested using the speakerphone, but in this case...
Finn heard Misty insisting that it was her turn to take advantage of the extra sleeping space in Finn’s apartment.
“You shouldn’t be there in the first place,” she said. “Your addictions destroyed Ciara’s entire future.”
Finn wanted to shout that thanks to hard work, determination and a team of caring doctors, Ciara enjoyed a very happy, productive life. If Misty had bothered to stay in touch, she’d know it, too.
“You have no right to be there!”
“And you do? If your nagging hadn’t distracted me...” Connor’s voice trailed off. “No, no... I promised myself I’d never go down that road again.”
“What road?” Misty demanded.
“Blaming others for my mistakes. I was driving that night, so when all’
s said and done, you’re right. It’s my fault that Ciara has had to work harder than other girls her age. I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did—and the things I didn’t do—and making up for it.”
Misty’s shrill, mean-spirited laughter punctuated his confession.
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still saying whatever it takes to make yourself look good. Smartest thing I ever did was to divorce you.”
“Need I remind you who filed the papers?”
Finn had to give him credit for holding his temper in check—not an easy feat when dealing with Misty—and for cleaning up his act. Suddenly Finn felt protective of him.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, standing beside him.
Her mother’s voice rang with sarcasm. “Well, well, well. It’s good to hear your voice, too, Finn.”
“Where are you, Misty? Chicago? New York? Seattle?”
“Miami, but I can be in Nashville tomorrow...if you still want to see me.”
Based on Connor’s expression, he was fighting the urge to hit the end-call button.
“If you’re definitely arriving tomorrow, I’ll make you a reservation at Embassy Suites. You’ll have all the space and privacy your heart desires over there, and it’s right up the road from the diner, so we can visit whenever you—”
“I’d rather stay with you girls.” Her whimper changed to a growl when she added, “But thanks to your father, I guess a cold and impersonal hotel will have to do.”
In the silence that followed, Finn and Connor exchanged an exasperated glance.
“Just so we’re clear...I can’t afford a hotel.”
“I figured as much. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, as usual.”
“Better reserve a room for two, then. I’d hate to see you get into trouble if the hotel staff sees Carl going in and out.”
Carl? Connor and Finn mouthed together.
“We’re...we’re engaged.”
Connor chuckled. “Another engagement? So soon after Lester?”
“You have no right to pass judgment on me, Connor Leary, and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Hit the mute button,” Finn whispered as Misty ranted on. He looked uncertain, but did as she asked. “This is a big night for you, so give me that phone and let me take it from here.”
“Are you sure, honey? She’s a handful...”
As if I didn’t know! “I pressed your favorite shirt, and it’s hanging on my closet doorknob. I gave your boots a going-over, too. You don’t want to be late.”
Connor’s uncertainty morphed into wariness as he held on to the phone.
Finn held out her hand. “Tell Ciara I’ll be up in a few minutes, but don’t tell her that Misty called. She’s really looking forward to seeing you open the show tonight. We can’t let Misty spoil the excitement for either of you.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree. Instead, Finn took the phone and made a flicking motion with her fingers, signaling him to head for the stairs. She waited until the apartment door closed to unmute the call.
“...and furthermore,” Misty was saying, “I resent—”
“It’s just you and me now, Misty. I sent Connor upstairs to check on Ciara. Do you have any idea what time you might arrive? So I can make sure your room is ready?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How will you get here?”
“Carl is driving, but he’s at work right now, and I don’t know when he’ll want to hit the road.”
In other words, if Carl decided he’d rather not make the trip, Misty wouldn’t, either.
“Are you calling on your cell phone now?”
“Yes...”
“Then, this is what we’re going to do—you’re going to call me from the road. When you reach, say, Atlanta. That’ll give me plenty of time to call the hotel and book you a room.”
Misty exhaled a heavy sigh. “All right.”
Finn didn’t give her an opportunity to nix the idea. “Talk to you tomorrow, then. Have a safe trip!”
Connor was ready and waiting when she entered the apartment.
“You sure got the short end when it came to parents, didn’t you?”
“Oh, you’re not all bad,” she said with a wink. “And you look very...musiciany tonight.”
He grinned. “Guess I’d better get a move on. Sam might change his mind about letting me open if I show up late.”
“We’ll be along shortly. Save us a seat near the stage!”
“Will do.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I have a few dollars saved up...”
He’d been taking odd jobs—emptying trash, sweeping up, doing dishes—for a couple of restaurants along Broadway.
“It isn’t right that you have to pay extra for Misty’s, ahem, fiancé. Let me help you pay for the room.”
Finn kissed his cheek. “Thanks, but you worked hard for that money. I can afford a couple nights at the hotel...if she even shows up.”
“Good point. There’s at least a fifty-fifty chance she won’t. But it doesn’t seem fair for you to be saddled with two deadbeat parents at the same time. I don’t mind helping out.”
“You’re not a deadbeat. You’re working now, remember?” She gave him a gentle shove. “Now go, so you can get first dibs on the best mic.”
He picked up his guitar case but dawdled at the door.
“There’s absolutely no reason for you to be nervous,” Finn told him. “I remember how you wowed the audiences everywhere you played. And this time, you’re working with at least one friend. And you’ll have Ciara and me, front and center, cheering you on.”
“Yeah, but this’ll be the first time in I can’t remember when that I’ve performed sober. Well, except for the audition, of course.”
“Of course. And I have a feeling that’s just going to mean you’ll be better than ever.” Finn blew him a kiss. “I believe in you...Dad.”
He laid a hand over his heart, telling her without words how much her faith in him meant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TORRY GREETED THEM at the door and made his usual fuss about how adorable Ciara looked.
“We need to find an excuse to get you onstage,” he said, offering her his elbow, “so everybody can see how pretty you are.” He led her to a table close to the stage. “Your dad told me to save this one for you two.” He pulled out a chair, and once Ciara sat down, he turned to Finn. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”
“Anything cold. And decaffeinated.”
Ciara said, “Who’s that—who’s that man? He looks familiar.”
Finn and Torry followed Ciara’s gaze to where a middle-aged gentleman sat alone, alternately typing on his tablet and checking his phone.
“His name escapes me at the moment, but I know he’s a big-shot producer.” Torry rapped his knuckles on the table. “I’ll be right back with two ginger ales and a bowl of beer nuts.”
Everyone in Nashville knew that scouts sometimes visited the pubs, searching out new talent. Had this one stopped by to check out Mark and the Marks Brothers? Or Sam?
As if thinking his name had conjured him, Sam stepped out from behind the sparkly black backdrop, completely engrossed in the music sheets he held. The producer called his name, captured his attention and waved him over. The men sat nearly head to head for a full five minutes, and might have talked longer if Mark and the rest of the band hadn’t appeared at the end of the hall, one carrying drumsticks, one adjusting the shoulder strap of a bass. Mark was wiggling a pick under his guitar’s strings. As they took their places onstage, the producer shook Sam’s hand, then sat back, arms crossed.
Her heart sank. Finn didn’t know how to feel, because she liked Sam and wanted what was best for him. And yet...
Sam stood center stage and adjusted his mic stand. Eyes closed, he concentrated on tuning his guitar, oblivious to the din of the quickly growing audience.
“Sam!” Ciara hollered. “Hey, Sam, down here! Me and—me and Finn came to see you and Dad!”
Instantly, his intense expression vanished, replaced by a genuine happy-to-see-you smile. “Hey, yourself! I’m glad you made it. Your dad and I can use your support.” He met Finn’s eyes and winked. “Yours, too.”
“Mic check,” Mark said.
Ciara’s eyes widened as the guys flipped switches and twisted dials on the amps, tapped the silver globes of their microphones. She and Finn faced the back of the room in time to see the sound engineer give a thumbs-up to the band. Mark nodded, his signal to dim the club’s lights and throw the stage into absolute darkness.
The stage went pitch-black, then a spotlight beam puddled in a slowly growing oval, center stage. The music started soft and slow, building second by second until Connor leaped from the darkness and sang the first rib-racking notes of the opening number. The band’s tight five-part harmony equaled anything Finn had heard on the radio. Any one—or all of them—deserved a recording contract. So why did the idea make her heart ache?
The group slid from song to song, each highlighting one of the Marks Brothers, and when the set ended, Connor and Sam headed straight for Finn and Ciara’s table. Halfway there, the long-haired producer pulled Sam aside.
Connor’s sympathetic smile told her that he’d read her heart and understood exactly why tears stung her eyes.
“You sounded—you sounded so good, Dad!” Ciara said as he reached them.
He scribbled something on a cocktail napkin and tucked it into her hand. “Take this to Benny behind the bar,” Connor said.
“What is it?”
“You’ll find out when you give him the note.” He winked—more than enough to encourage her cooperation.
“What is it?” Finn echoed.
“An order for a root beer float.” He chuckled. “I figured it would take just long enough to give us time to discuss—” he nodded toward Sam and the producer “—that. Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s probably nothing.”
