“What about the high school band?” Elara suggested. “They played at the winter concert.”
“They’re on spring break. Half the kids are in Florida.”
“The church choir?”
“Already scheduled for the opening ceremony.”
“There has to be someone,” Posy said. “Fairhaven Falls is full of musicians. What about?—”
“What about Ben?”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Every head at the table swiveled towards her.
“Ben?” Nina’s eyebrows climbed even higher than before. “My boss Ben, who hasn’t performed publicly in six years? That Ben?”
“He’s been playing again.” Her voice came out small but steady. “At night, on his back porch. He’s… he’s really good. And lately he’s been singing more. Just for me, but…”
She trailed off, suddenly aware of how much she was revealing. Ben’s music was private, a gift he gave her in the quiet hours when it was just the two of them. Did she have the right to suggest he share it with the whole town?
But then she remembered how he looked when he played. The peace that settled over his features. The way his whole body relaxed, like the music was releasing the tension he’d been carrying for years. He missed performing. She could see it in every note, every chord, every word he sang.
Maybe this could be a chance for him to reclaim that part of himself and stop hiding from who he really was.
“He was famous before he came here,” Flora agreed.
“I know.” She had done some research after the first night she’d heard him sing and felt her world tilt on its axis. She’d found videos of his old performances, back when he’d fronted The Bite. He’d been magnetic on stage—wild and passionate and utterly captivating.
Then he’d walked away from all of it, and he’d never looked back.
Until now.
“He might say no,” she admitted. “He probably will, actually. But I think… I think he might want to say yes. He just needs someone to ask.”
“Then ask him,” Ginger said simply. “Worst case, he refuses and we’re back to square one. Best case, we get the best musician in town to headline our festival.”
“It’s not that simple?—”
“It’s exactly that simple.” Posy reached over and squeezed Sara’s hand. “You’re his mate now. If anyone can convince that stubborn rabbit to stop hiding his light under a bushel, it’s you.”
She thought about Ben’s face when he sang. The vulnerability in his eyes. The way he seemed to shed six years of armor and become someone younger, freer, more alive.
“I’ll ask him,” she said. “Tonight.”
“That’s the spirit!” Flora beamed at her. “And if he says no, I suggest going do?—”
“Flora!” Sara, Posy, and Elara yelled at the same time.
“What? I’ve always found males most agreeable after?—”
“For the love of God, please stop,” she begged, and Flora sighed.
“Spoilsport.”
The walkfrom the community center to the Moonlight Tavern took ten minutes on a good day. Today, Sara made it in five, her feet carrying her faster than her brain could keep up with.
What am I doing?
Ben had walked away from music for a reason. He’d told her about the endless parade of meaningless encounters that had left him feeling hollow and used. He’d built a new life here in Fairhaven Falls—a quieter life, a more controlled life. Who was she to suggest he tear down those walls?
