The lights of the neighborhood reflect across the lake, and the moon is full.
“You picked a good song for tonight.” We walk through the French doors holding glasses of wine, and I stop in front of the two easels.
Lillie’s painting is bold black lines and large patches of dark and light blue, but Ruby’s looks like something out of a gallery. It’s delicate abstract with short brush strokes and subtle gradients of color.
“This is really good. Did you minor in art?”
“Heck no.” She laughs and shakes her head as she sips her wine. “My dad would never approve of such a useless degree.”
“Art’s not useless.”
“It’s not something Kenneth Banks was willing to fund, and I caved just like the pushover he always said I was. Always second-guessing myself…” She steps up beside me looking at the canvas, her slim brow furrowed. “But never mind all that. Earlier today you said something that confused me.”
I’m still trying to get over this little reveal she just gave me about her childhood. I can’t help wondering how much we have in common.
“How did I confuse you?”
“You said your dad criticized you. What in the world could he criticize? You’ve done really well. You served in the military, then you were a huge tech success…” Her dark brow furrows, and she seems almost protective—of me. It’s completely out of left field.
My father is not my favorite topic, but I’m intrigued by her interest. “I was successful because I followed the plan he approved.”
“You’re saying there was an alternate plan?” Her eyes narrow, but a smile hints at her lips, those full, kissable, rosebud lips.
“A plan my father called absolutely ludicrous.” Glancing down, I clear my throat. Not many people know this part of my history. “I wanted to be a singer.”
Her jaw drops and her pretty, pretty eyes go round. “Shut up.”
“It’s true.” I walk over and sit on the sofa in the center of the patio.
She follows me and sits on the table in front of me, excited. “You can sing?”
“I was in a band in college… for about a minute. Until Howard found out.” I take a sip of the dry wine. “Naturally, he was horrified.”
“I take it Howard’s your dad?” I nod, and her lips press into a knowing smile. “That explains it.”
“What?”
“Lillie has a great ear for music. She never gets off key, and she keeps the tempo steady, even a capella. That’s really huge for a four-year-old.”
Not what I expected, although I like hearing it. “I thought all children could sing those songs. They all seem to.”
“Um, no. Most little kids are all over the place. Lillie’s special.” Her voice turns soft. “Like you.”
An unexpected compliment. It sends my mind flying down that old familiar rabbit hole, but she changes direction quickly. “What kind of band were you in? Rock and roll?”
“Classic country.”
She almost chokes on her sip, covering her mouth and laughing. “No way!”
“Way.”
“You are a very unexpected man, Remington.”
“Call me Remi.” I give her a wink and polish off my glass. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know a song on our set list.”
“Ha! That’s where you’d be wrong.” She points her finger as she polishes off her wine. I reach for the bottle and pour us each another glass. “My mom is a huge classic country fan. It’s how I got my name.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “You’re named after the Kenny Rogers song?”
