“You don’t have to do that,” Stevie said, embarrassment scalding her cheeks.
“But, Mom, it’s a long drive,” Joni said.They both knew the truth.Joni didn’t want Stevie to tell Sam’s parents that she’d driven from LA to Berkeley.Only very poor people did that.Only very poor people opted not to fly.Stevie suddenly hated to see herself in her daughter’s eyes.
Eventually, to avoid a fight, Stevie agreed to take the flight from LA to San Francisco, where she insisted on taking the BART train from SFO to Berkeley.She didn’t have money for a cab, and she definitely didn’t want Sam’s parents to send a driver or, worse, pick her up in whatever fancy car they’d opted for that day.In a public bathroom near the train station, Stevie did her hair and makeup and told herself everything would be okay.It was Stevie and Joni against the world, wasn’t it?Sam was just the necessary next step for Joni.Plus, Joni was in love.That was the kind of thing that mattered.The kind of thing that needed celebrating.Right?
No surprise that the dinner with Sam’s family was nothing short of a disaster.Sam’s parents did little to hide their confusion at Stevie’s appearance—and her name.Apparently, being named after one of the biggest female rock stars of all time was proof of something not so savory in their world.
“We like her.Stevie Nicks.She’s really got a nice voice.Shame about her behavior,” Sam’s mother, Sharon, said as they gathered on the veranda behind their home, the one with the gorgeous views of the sweeping hills behind their mansion.Stevie could see vineyards peppering the horizon.
Stevie couldn’t help but ask, “What behavior do you mean?”
“You know what her lifestyle was like.”Sharon wrinkled her nose before muttering, “That rock-star lifestyle really scares me to think about.Imagine not caring about anything but yourself, music, and alcohol.I mean, it’s so empty, isn’t it?”
At that moment, Joni came onto the veranda, carrying a bottle of what looked like (and probably was) costly wine.Stevie was caught off guard at the sight of her daughter, out here in the gorgeous hills overlooking the bay.Joni fit right into their home and their family.And as she filled Stevie’s wineglass, she spoke about a tasting they’d attended at a winery a few days ago, about the soil and the sommelier and everything she’d learned.
Stevie felt as though she didn’t recognize her.
Now, years after that fateful day, as Stevie sat in her hotel room overlooking the bustling Chicago streets, her phone buzzed with a text from Reggie, of all people.She felt grateful to hear from her old life and opened it swiftly to read.
REGGIE: Look what I found!Are you on tour?
Beneath it was a photograph of Stevie Franklin, singing on stage with James, the saxophonist.Stevie shot to her feet, her head spinning.Because she couldn’t stop herself, and maybe because she was lonely, she called Reggie right away.She could hear that he was at the concert venue in Venice Beach.
“Where did you see that?”she gasped.
Reggie laughed.“It was on social media.I got a new account on there the other week and followed all these music sites.Apparently, you performed for a Chicago music journalist by the name of Addison Quail.”
“Addison Quail?”Stevie shook her head and caught a look at herself in the mirror across the hotel room.She hadn’t realized how big she was smiling.Her cheeks ached.
“The journalist called your performance ‘incendiary,’” Reggie said.“Said you brought heart and spirit to that jazz club in downtown Chicago.Said you’re what the ‘new era of jazz’ needs.Tell me, Stevie.How on earth did you finagle your way onto a stage in Chicago?And why are you half a continent away?”
Stevie laughed.“Thank you for sending this.”
“I see you won’t tell me a thing about your life.”Reggie sighed.“I told Baxter that you were gone with the wind yet again.I hope you’re taking care of yourself.I hope to see a lot more photographs where this came from.Be well, Stevie.”
“You be well, too,” Stevie said.
When they hung up, Stevie collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding.Her performance with James was the second in the past week, after many years offstage.She’d never thought anyone would want to hear her sing again.Now that she was back, she could feel her old desires to perform welling up inside her.She wasn’t sure she could ever silence herself again.
ChapterEight
Ella and Laura found themselves in the ultrasound technician’s waiting room on Tuesday at ten thirty in the morning, watching as a toddler stacked blocks on a thick rug while his very pregnant mother scrolled on her phone and tried not to cry.Becoming a mother, raising a child, and encountering life in all its forms were all so overwhelming, Ella knew.
Laura hadn’t spoken much since they’d left the house.She sat on the edge of her chair, glancing furtively at the front door, as though she were plotting her escape.
Ella put her hand on Laura’s shoulder and reminded her, “It’s just a routine scan.It’s important to get these things started.You know?”
Laura nodded.But she remained as stiff as a board and watchful.
Ten minutes later, the tech called them into her office.Ella had asked Laura if she’d rather go it alone, and Laura had said no, that she wanted her mother with her.Ella laced her fingers through Laura’s and watched as the first crackly vision of her grandchild appeared on the black-and-white screen before them.Her breath caught in her throat.She knew plenty of parents who never became grandparents, who celebrated their children’s career wins, their pets, and their artistic triumphs, all without the singular joy of holding their grandchildren in their arms for the first time.But in this tech’s office, Ella was suddenly very aware of how excited she was to meet her grandchild.She was so eager to introduce him or her to music, to learn what he or she liked or disliked, to walk the beaches together, to swim in the ocean together, to eat ice cream, and to live!
The tech said the baby was nine weeks along.Laura nodded.“That’s sort of what I was thinking.”Probably because she’d counted down the weeks since she’d last seen Vinny.Ella felt a pang of resentment, hating the father for not being here for Laura.But then again, Laura hadn’t given him the option to come back.She refused.
After they finished at the tech’s office, Laura and Ella walked down to the boardwalk, which was a little bit icy and lined with snow.At a coffee kiosk, they bought decaf lattes, then stood with their forearms on the railing, gazing out at the few boats that remained in the harbor.As usual, Ella tried to read her daughter’s mind, tried to grapple with what it meant to see her baby’s image like that for the first time.
But instead of talking about the baby, Laura surprised Ella.“I saw that guy you and Dad are working with.I mean, I saw him online.”
Ella raised her eyebrows.It had been a few days since she’d thought about Grayson Harris and the upcoming commercial for Water Works.Will had said he had a meeting with Grayson’s team later this week to “work out the kinks,” whatever that meant.He knew Ella was too busy with the Christmas party and Laura’s pregnancy to worry about the song.
