Thirty minutes later, Ivy sans apron stood in front of a microphone with her guitar and a light shining on her. She recognized a few faces—locals and relatives—sitting at the tables and bar, but most were strangers, which she preferred. Though she’d never admit that to her family, who always came to hear her perform. No matter who was sitting in the audience, they deserved her best so she sang her heart out, as she always did.
For them.
For herself.
And for her dad, who’d always believed in her.
You’re going to be a star, baby girl.
Ivy hoped he wasn’t disappointed she’d never followed through with her—their—dream, but she enjoyed thinking about him as one of the stars in heaven, twinkling above them, their personal angel who watched over them day and night. She wanted to believe he would be happy with the decisions she’d made. She had a feeling he would enjoy the songs she wrote even if she rarely performed any.
Ivy ran through her set of covers, mainly country hits with a few crossover songs that pop radio stations also played. As her fingers strummed the guitar, she lost herself in the lyrics. It was as if everything had disappeared except this stage, the audience, and her.
She loved the feeling.
The connection with those listening to her.
Performing on stage was like going home. Not to her studio apartment, but to her parents’ house. When her dad was alive and her mom had eyes only for him. When Ivy was planning to move to Nashville to pursue a music career. When she dared to…dream.
Her set was ending. She had one final song on her list. But something else popped into her mind.
Should I?
Why not?
“I want to thank y’all for coming out to Quinn’s tonight,” Ivy said into the microphone. She might have been born and raised in Idaho, but whenever she performed, she let the country girl inside her come out. “I’m Ivy, and I hope you’re having a great time.”
The audience cheered.
“To close my set, I’d like to sing a song I wrote. This one is for Maggie and Ryder Quinn.”And for Dad.“Thanks for letting me perform tonight.”
With that, Ivy played the opening notes. The newly finished song didn’t have a title yet. But the gratitude she sang about was real, and she hoped meaningful to her sister and brother. And her two brothers who weren’t here.
Closing her eyes, she stopped playing but kept singing, repeating the chorus one last time. She held the final note for as long as she could before her lungs screamed for oxygen.
When she opened her eyes, everyone was on their feet, clapping, cheering, and whistling. A few shouted, “Encore!”
The crowd’s reaction overwhelmed Ivy. She bowed and headed toward the kitchen, needing space.
Halfway there, a bearded man stepped in her path.
He wore faded blue jeans, a blue T-shirt with the name of the hottest new video game on the front, a beanie pulled low on his forehead, and sunglasses.
Who wore a beanie in the summer and sunglasses inside at night? Must be a hipster. Probably from Portland or Seattle given his lumberjack-worthy beard, but she shouldn’t judge. Quinn’s was known for their friendly customer service. She wouldn’t disappoint. “May I help you?”
“Your set was great.” His lips curved into a charming smile. “You have a fantastic voice, and I won’t be forgetting that last song anytime soon.”
The compliment made her stand taller. “Thanks. I’m happy you enjoyed the show.”
“I did. I…” His voice trailed off. “Could I buy you a drink?”
She forced her shoulders not to sag and her smile not to falter. He was still a customer, but she hated that the guy couldn’t have just said his two cents before returning to his table. She hated being hit on at work.
“No, thanks.” She clutched her guitar like a lifeline. “I can’t. I’m busy.”
“Are you performing again?” he asked.
He must not be from around here, which meant he didn’t know she was on the staff. “No.”
