by Rula Sinara
Finn hit her phone’s end button and opened her closet door. Among shirts, skirts, jeans, sweaters and dresses that hung in order of hem and sleeve length, she chose a pale yellow sundress. Strappy white sandals and a cross-body purse completed the outfit, and she placed them all at the foot of her bed.
She’d just kicked off her shoes when the phone buzzed on her nightstand.
“Wow,” she said, tidying the doily, “when you say you’re going to get right back to someone, you aren’t kidding, are you?”
The sound of his rumbling laughter made her smile. Her amusement disappeared, though, when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, finger combing her bangs and grinning like a love-struck schoolgirl.
“Got a pen and paper?”
Her hurried search through the nightstand drawer produced a small tablet and a pen, but a few squiggly lines proved it was dry. “Figures,” she muttered. “If the pen writes, there’s nothing to write on.”
“Or the other way around.”
“Exactly! Okay. I’m ready. Finally. Sorry to waste your time. I know you’re busy.”
“No busier than you. And believe me, Finn...time with you is never a waste.”
It was what anyone would say to a chronic apologizer, right? So why had his simple statement made her misty-eyed?
As promised, Sam provided three names. “Will you let me know who ends up doing the work?”
“Ah, so you can collect your finder’s fee, huh?”
A moment of silence preceded a hoarse sigh. “I, ah, I’d better get back inside before they start throwing spitballs or something. Catch you later.”
He hung up before she got a chance to thank him. A pang of guilt shot through her. She hadn’t intended to insult him, but apparently, that was exactly what her sorry excuse for a joke had done.
And there it was again: sorry.
You’re sorry, she thought, dropping on to the foot of her bed. A sorry mess.
“Instead of sitting here wasting time,” she told her reflection, “get busy.”
She dialed the first number from Sam’s list, and while waiting for an answer, Finn remembered something he’d said. “Time with you is never a waste.”
Bet he doesn’t feel that way now!
Logic told her his opinion shouldn’t matter so much.
But when it came to Sam Marshall, she felt anything but logical.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN AGGIE HEARD why he was limping more than usual, she clucked her tongue.
“I think you know what I’m going to say.”
He didn’t, but Sam played along.
“No woman is worth all that pain.”
She was clever, that landlady of his. He’d stopped by to drop off the rent check, but by not accepting it, she’d more or less trapped him there on her ornate red velvet sofa. Never should have told her what happened at The Right Note, he thought as the lecture continued.
“Finn Leary is a gorgeous little thing, so I’m not the least bit surprised that a man like you is attracted to her.”
A man like him?
“But nothing you do or say will soften that hard heart of hers. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s friendly enough...if you’re a paying customer. I don’t know what her type is, but you’re not it!”
“Oh, you’re great for a guy’s ego, you know that?”
Aggie ignored his comment. “I’ve seen that girl smile like a beauty queen, all the while telling handsome singers and musicians to buzz off. She doesn’t say it in so many words, of course, but they get the message, believe you me!”
“Well, at least she softens the blow with a smile.”
“My advice? Save yourself a lot of misery and aim those gorgeous blue eyes of yours elsewhere.” She adjusted the hem of her sparkly red skirt. “And wipe that look off your face.”
“What look?”
“That cow-eyed, hopeful look. It’s useless with a woman like her, I tell you. Useless!” Aggie picked up a store-bought cookie and took a bite, oblivious to the crumbs that rained to the floor. “So tell me, how are the classes going this time around?”
“Good. Fine.”
“But you’re still hoping to get back on a truck someday, aren’t you?”
“Nah, I accepted the hard facts long ago.”
“Probably for the best, considering...” She pointed at his left leg. “You’re satisfied with the teaching position, then?”
Sam nodded. “I get far more out of it than I put in.”
“I imagine it’s very fulfilling, knowing your instruction will help keep those youngsters safe out there on the job, and that once they’re trained, they’ll save lives and property.”
She pointed at the cookie plate, his unspoken invitation to take one.
Sam held up a hand. “Just had a sandwich, but thanks.”
“So tell me, Sam, are you happy?”
“Well, sure. Yeah.” What a strange question, even from Aggie. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you don’t look it. Oh, you can flash that dazzling smile till the cows come home, but you’re not fooling this old broad.” She leaned forward and patted his knee with long-taloned red fingertips. “You’re a good and decent man, one of the best I’ve had the pleasure of knowing—and at my age, you should take that as an enormous compliment—and you deserve all the joy this life has to offer.”
She took another bite of her cookie, then used the remaining crescent as a pointer. “That’s why I don’t want to see you getting tangled up with that girl. She’s a big, fat heartache waiting to happen.”
He remembered Finn’s wisecrack—about him getting a finder’s fee for recommending the contractor—and wondered how close to the truth Aggie’s warning might be.
“Have you talked to your folks lately?”
“Yeah, and they send their love.” They hadn’t, but Aggie had no family, so what could it hurt to let her believe they’d been thinking of her?
“You really ought to visit them more often. Man only gets one family, you know.”
Sam agreed, then told her about his cousin Nate’s upcoming wedding, adding that he planned to spend Christmas at the Double M.
Aggie exhaled a soft sigh. “Bet Denver is beautiful in the wintertime, with all that snow and the mountains in the background...”
“Yeah. It’s a sight to behold, all right.”
“But I’ll bet it doesn’t compare to Nashville at Christmas.”
The city did a great job trimming lampposts, storefronts and municipal buildings, but Sam preferred nature’s decorations.
His landlady launched into a recitation of the city’s history, starting with the cable cars that once clanged through the streets, ending with the story of the great fire of 1916. She wasn’t old enough to remember any of that firsthand, and he wondered where the conversation would lead.
“I’m thinking of going to one of those jazz-fest things down at Riverfront Park. You wouldn’t want to go with me, would you?”
She was lonely, which explained why just about anyone who showed up at her front door could expect to stay at least thirty minutes. Sam had never been a jazz fan and didn’t like the idea of lumbering down that steep hill on his bum leg to search for a flat spot in the lawn near the amphitheater.
And yet, he said, “Maybe, if I don’t have to work.”
Aggie threw back her head and cut loose with a laugh that sounded more like a roar. And with her mane of wild red hair, it fit.
“All right, get on out of here, you big-hearted goofball, you. I know you have a to-do list as long as my arm, but you’re sweet as rock candy for trying to placate an addle-brained old lady.” She waved him closer and hugged him tight.
“You’re about the least addle-brained person I know,” he said
, handing her the check.
He was halfway to the door when she grabbed his arm. “Take some time to prop up that leg, first chance you get.” She stood on tiptoe to plant a big kiss on his cheek, then jabbed an arthritis-crooked forefinger into his chest. “And remember what I said about that Leary girl, you hear?”
Nodding, Sam headed for the parking lot. What would Aggie say if she found out that her warnings had made him more curious than ever about the people and events that turned Finn Leary into the most intriguing woman he’d ever met?
* * *
IT COULD HAVE been frustrating that none of the contractors could stop by today. But Finn decided to follow Pete’s advice and look for the silver lining. She and Ciara had the day to themselves.
When she broke the news, Ciara clasped her hands. “For—for real?”
“For real. Now put on something pretty, and let’s hit the bricks, kiddo.”
“No stocking shelves?”
“And no scrubbing floors.”
“No wiping sticky stuff off the menus?”
“And no refilling condiment dispensers.”
“Or napkin holders...” She grinned. “I’ll be ready in—in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”
Another Pete-ism. Once, when Finn had asked how many adages he might have in that white-haired head of his, he’d imitated Humphrey Bogart: “Schweetheart, I probably have about a million of ’em. More than a million, maybe.”
Pete fooled a lot of people with his gruff, growly manner, but he’d never fooled Ciara. Within ten minutes of their first meeting, she’d figured out that deep in that barrel chest beat the heart of a softie. “His eyes sparkle when he talks,” she’d told Finn, “just like Grandpa’s.” That was before the accident that changed everything—except her sister’s uncanny talent for finding the good in people, even the parents who came and went like one of Pete’s proverbial bad pennies.
Finn squeezed her eyes shut. Forget about it. Just forget about it. It wasn’t as though rehashing the ugly scenes would turn Connor and Misty into caring, responsible parents. Besides, she and Ciara were safe now. And they had Pete to thank for that.
“Are you almost ready, Kee?”
“Almost.”
Finn slid her wallet into her purse. As she prepared to drop her cell phone in beside it, she saw Sam’s number in the recent calls list. Ciara liked him, so he couldn’t be all bad, even if he was a musician.
She snapped the purse shut and whispered, “Wonder what Pete Maxon would think of you, Sam Marshall?”
Ciara appeared in the doorway. “Aw, you look adorable, sweetie!”
“You said that yesterday.”
“It’s just as true today. So are you ready for another day of fun?”
“You mean not just eating and shopping at Puckett’s again?”
“Oh, we’ll do that and a whole lot more.”
“You’re the best sister ever, and the prettiest, too!”
For the moment, she felt pretty. Almost as pretty as when Sam told her she ought to smile more often.
“So—so where are we going first?”
Finn linked arms with her sister. “Today, young lady, you and I are going to do everything the out-of-towners do!”
They started out at Riverfront Park, where they boarded a trolley packed with tourists. It took them downtown. When they grew tired of walking Music Row, they’d hop a trolley going back the other way.
The sisters toured Fort Nashborough, the Old Spaghetti Factory and its dozens of Victorian antiques, the Ryman Auditorium, the Tennessee State Capitol and Printer’s Alley.
“Are your—are your feet tired, Finn?”
“To be honest, all of me is tired!”
“Then, can we sit down and eat now?”
It wasn’t in Ciara’s nature to complain. For her to admit she wanted to take a break spoke volumes.
“You bet we can. It’s just a short walk from here to Church Street. After lunch, we’ll ride home from Puckett’s in a taxi.”
A deep voice behind them said, “No need for that. I’ll take you home.”
Ciara squeezed Finn’s arm. “Look, Finn, it’s Sam! Sam Marshall!”
“So it is.” Just as she’d suspected, he looked good in uniform. Real good. “So what are you doing on this side of town, Sam?”
“Errands, mostly. You?”
Ciara grabbed his hand. “Finn said we could be tourists today, since we didn’t have to fill catsup dispensers.”
He winked, then met Finn’s eyes. “I think that’s a great idea. All work and no play—”
“—makes Jack a dull boy,” Ciara finished with him.
“Mind if I join you at Puckett’s?”
“Oh, oh, can he, Finn? Can he?”
Her tone reminded Finn of the day last spring, when Ciara had found a half-dead baby bird. “Can I keep him, please?” That day, she’d had no choice but to say no. Now, she didn’t have to. It was nearly two; the worst of the lunch rush should be over, meaning they’d get in and out quickly.
“Sure, sweetie. I think it’d be real nice if Sam joined us.”
Ciara glanced from Finn to Sam and back again. “Hey, Finn. His eyes sparkle when he smiles, just like—just like Pete and Grandpa.”
“So they do,” she agreed, accepting his extended elbow.
Sharing a meal with him would be a lot of things, but boring wouldn’t be one of them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CIARA LEANED FORWARD as far as the seat belt would allow and squeezed Finn’s shoulder. “Wasn’t that just—just the most fun day, ever?”
“Yes, sweetie, it was.” Finn gave her hand an affectionate pat. “Now sit back, okay, so you’ll be safe...and so Sam won’t get a ticket.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah. Right.” She squeezed Sam’s shoulder, too. “We don’t want that, do we?”
“Nope, we sure don’t want that.”
He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Ciara sitting ramrod straight and barely able to contain her excitement.
“This was the best day ever!” she repeated.
That was exactly how she’d sounded when a dog walker had led a motley assortment of mutts past the truck window. He liked seeing her happy, excited, enthused. Seemed to him that after all she’d been through, Ciara had a right to all the pleasure life could offer. If half a dozen shaggy pups could inspire giggles and finger-pointing, how much more would she enjoy a trip to the zoo?
“The fun doesn’t have to end yet, y’know.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Finn’s “What are you up to” expression, and suddenly, the surprise didn’t seem like such a great idea after all. Another peek in the mirror told him that the sightseer-stuffed trolley parked beside them at the traffic light had fully captured Ciara’s attention, and he used the moment to run the concept past Finn.
Nashville Zoo? he mouthed.
Tension furrowed her brow, but all it took was a quick glance at Ciara to erase it.
“Oh, why not? It’ll be fun.” She faced the backseat. “Sam wants to know if we’d like to go with him to the zoo.”
“The zoo? Really?” Ciara bounced up and down. “You’re right, Sam. The fun doesn’t have to end yet! Finn and me, we haven’t been to a zoo since we were really little. Where was that one, Finn?”
“Chicago, I think. Or Baltimore.” She shrugged. “I forget.”
He couldn’t imagine living in so many places that what should have been standout childhood memories blurred into each other. Sam turned to Ciara. “So what’s your favorite animal, kiddo?”
“Oh, the giraffes for sure. I just love watching them walk around on those long, skinny legs of theirs.” She craned her neck to look out at the sooty sky. “Do you think we’ll get rained on?”
&
nbsp; Half a dozen sentences in a row without the halting, without word repetitions...
“The weatherman said we might get a storm after supper,” he said, “but we should be okay through the afternoon.”
“Oh—oh, no. I—I hope it doesn’t storm.” Eyes shut tight, Ciara covered her ears. “I don’t—I don’t like thunder!”
Finn looked directly at her sister. “When we get inside the park, keep a lookout for a snack cart. We’ll get you some peanuts to feed the giraffes.”
Ciara picked up on her calm demeanor. “Okay, okay! That will be fun!” She giggled. “Remember the time when a giraffe tried to eat your hair?”
“Tried to eat it? I had a bald spot the size of a quarter for months!”
Sam turned off the radio because in his opinion, there was no sweeter music than Finn’s laughter.
The threesome chatted amiably for the remainder of the drive to the zoo, then entered through a temporary entryway. Just beyond the Pardon Our Dust and New Entrance Opens Soon! signs, Ciara pointed out the peanut vendor. The brown paper sacks looked pretty small, so Sam bought two and handed one to Finn and the other to Ciara.
Half an hour into their tour, he noticed that Ciara was moving more slowly than usual. Finn must have seen it, too, for she slowed her pace and lingered longer than necessary at every enclosure on the Jungle Loop—even those that housed sleeping animals. His own leg felt pretty good for a change, but then, he’d taken ibuprofen before leaving the house.
He pointed north. “How would you ladies like to ride the Wilderness Express? I read an article that said it’ll take us places we can’t see on foot.”
Ciara considered the train and, frowning slightly, said, “But—but does that mean we have to walk all the way back to the gate?”
“No, ma’am. I took care of that when I got our tickets.” He patted his shirt pocket. “Just so happens I have six tokens right here.”
