“No. I was away when my staff met with David. If I’d known you wanted to return to Nashville, I would have called you.” Ian studied her face. “Not signing the contract was the right thing to do.”
“I couldn’t work with David again.”
“I don’t blame you. Do you want to walk along the shore with me? I’ve been sitting on a plane for a few hours and need to ease the kinks out of my body.”
Despite how tired she felt, Willow smiled. “I thought you would have flown to Polson on a chartered flight.”
“That was the old days. Commercial flights suit me fine, especially when it was a last-minute decision to come here.”
Willow scuffed her feet along the dirt trail. “Why did you come?”
“I watched parts of last night’s fundraising concert on YouTube. When I heard you sing, it brought back a lot of good memories.”
Willow didn’t believe him. “You haven’t flown all this way to reminisce about my career.”
“Of course, I haven’t. But before I ask if you’ll work directly with me, I want to know how everything is going.”
“I’m not returning to Nashville.”
Ian wrapped his hand around her elbow and kept walking. “When you told me you wanted to go home, what did I tell you?”
Willow didn’t have to think about her answer. “You told me to find what makes me happy.”
“And have you?”
“I have.”
Ian smiled. “How does that make you feel?”
Willow looked along the trail, at the trees sheltering the worn dirt track from the worst of the weather. This was where she belonged, not a concrete jungle waiting to swallow her whole.
“If I told you I’m content, it wouldn’t be enough. I’ve found myself and I’m not losing sight of that person again.”
“What if I said you don’t have to? You could write new material and record the songs in Ryan’s studio. Unlike a lot of musicians, you have a loyal fan base. They’ll follow your career regardless of where you’re living.”
“I don’t want to be followed. I want to focus on my photography and build a great life here.”
“You can still do that. It’s been more than three years since you released your last album and people are still talking about your songs.” Ian turned toward her. “Creating music that touches people’s souls is a gift. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Willow valued Ian’s opinion, she really did. But returning to her old life wasn’t an option, no matter how different he said it would be.
Ian sighed. “I wasn’t joking when I said your voice is better than ever. Did Ryan write the new songs you performed or were they yours?”
“I wrote most of the songs. Music helped me make sense of how I felt after I left Nashville.”
“It would be a shame not to share them with the world.” When Willow didn’t reply, he continued. “Is there anything I can say or do that will make you change your mind about recording a new album?”
Willow shook her head. “I’m glad you enjoyed the songs, but I was only singing them because we were raising funds for the tiny home village.”
“In that case,” Ian said with a smile, “we should enjoy the stunning scenery. And while we’re here, you can tell me about the tiny home village.”
Willow leaned into Ian’s arm. “You won’t get around me that easily. Even though the village is important to me, you can’t use it as leverage.”
Ian patted her hand. “Would I do something so unscrupulous?”
“If it helped you get your own way, you would. But I know you better than a lot of people, Ian. Underneath your gruff, super-organized exterior, you’ve got a heart of gold. And because of that, I’m happy to tell you about the tiny homes. You’ll love what we’re doing.”
As they walked farther along the trail, Ian listened attentively as she described what the community and Pastor John were achieving. If nothing else, Ian would go home with a better understanding of why Sapphire Bay was so special.
