He laughed.
“Big city girl.”
He turned and walked away. After a moment, Angelica hurried to catch up.
The sooner she got this over, the sooner she’d be on her own.
It was after lunch when Kirk walked with Angelica back to the cottage. She’d met a half dozen people, including Dottie Ferguson and Paul Cantwell who played with Webb Francis. Each person she met had been friendly and happy to talk with her about the songs she wanted to learn. She had collected phone numbers and jotted down names and addresses and drawn a sketchy map so she could find her way around Smoky Hollow.
Kirk was hard to figure out, she mused as he stopped in the road in front of her house. He’d done his duty, actually gone beyond in her opinion, buying her lunch at the local diner. Now he was free of any obligation. She should be relieved. She felt cut adrift.
He reached out and took the small spiral bound notebook she still carried in her hand and wrote his phone number down.
“You’re right next door, but it is easier to call sometimes. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I can manage.”
His intense gaze was something she wished she could get used to. She wasn’t accustomed to people focusing so intensely on her and it caused a chain reaction inside that threatened her equilibrium. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She wasn’t talking.
Was he thinking what she suddenly thought about? Kisses, long and drugging and fantastic.
She groaned softly and looked away before she did something beyond foolish.
“Thank you.”
Hurrying toward the cottage she resisted the urge to look behind her, to watch as he walked away. Once inside, she leanedagainst the front door, refusing to look though every cell in her body clamored to do just that.
Pushing away, she went into the kitchen. She’d have something cold to drink then decide what to do next.
Resisting temptation proved too much. She looked out the side window of the kitchen. She saw nothing but the house next door. He either had already gone inside, or had gone somewhere else.
Soon thereafter Angelica retraced her steps to the library. Mary Margaret sat with a large pile of books in front of her, jotting notes on a tablet. She looked up and smiled when Angelica entered.
“Come to hear those CDs?” she asked.
“If now is a good time.”
“Of course. Come back to the media center. They’re readily available. I’ll show you the lot and then you choose and play whichever ones you want. Take some home if you like. The DVDs are clearly labeled, too.”
Angelica dutifully followed. The room in the back was bright and airy with an expanse of windows across the back wall. Several new computers lined a side wall, none in use at the moment. There was a large-screen TV with audio-video equipment beside it, a DVD player, a VCR, and several other items she didn’t know. Two CD players with headphones were on a table by themselves. Across the middle of the room was a chest-high double row of shelves housing CDs. How did such a small town get such a state-of-the-art media room in their library?
As if she’d asked the question aloud, Mary Margaret smiled at her and said, “Kirk gave us all this, isn’t it grand? I have one of the best media rooms in the state, thanks to his donations. Makes some of my colleagues in other towns envious, I can tell you. Come here and I’ll explain the system.”
She led Angelica to the shelves and explained how the music CDs were sorted.
Once she was sure Angelica understood how to operate the equipment, she left her on her own. Angelica picked out a CD that had Webb Francis’s name on it. The earphones were excellent. How had Kirk managed to sponsor all this? Construction must pay more than she thought.
In no time she was enjoying the music. From one fast paced song, to a very slow ballad, to music that sounded like someone could dance a jig to it, the recording played tunes so foreign to her ear she couldn’t believe it had existed all this time and she’d only touched a bit of it in her one class at the conservatory.
By the end of the CD, she could hear more and more people from the town joining in. It sounded as if Webb Francis had just recorded a jam session that grew and grew and then burned it on a CD.
Soon the background changed again. Now it sounded as if they were playing for an audience. Casual, informal, with clapping at the end of each song. She heard people calling requests. It was as far from a symphony hall as anything could be.
As was the music. The fast songs were upbeat and fun. The ballads tragic and sad. The wide range had her interested as she hadn’t been in a long time.
“I have to run out to do a couple of errands,” Mary Margaret said from the door to the media room.
Angelica pulled off the headphones. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
