Seraphina appeared at my elbow, slightly breathless. “What are you two conspiring about?”
“Nothing,” Tyler said, too quickly.
“Baseball,” I said, at the same time.
She looked between us, suspicious. “Uh huh.”
Tyler put his arm around her shoulders. “We’re just doing some male bonding. I hope you won’t feel left out.”
Her face softened. “I’m used to having you all to myself, but I can share.”
“There’s enough of me to go around.” Tyler kissed her cheek. “I’m going back inside with the others. I’ll see you in there.”
He disappeared into the crowd, leaving us alone at the railing.
Seraphina leaned into me, her head against my shoulder. “You two having secrets makes me ridiculously happy. He lights up around you.”
“He’s everything a man could want in a son.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Ready to call it a night?”
“Not yet. You have to dance with me.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
Lead me wherever you want to go, and I’ll follow.
19
SERAPHINA
We landed in Nashville on a Thursday afternoon to a brilliant blue sky and air thick and warm with a hint of honeysuckle that reminded me of the Alabama summers of my youth. A silver-haired driver was waiting for us at baggage claim holding a sign that read SINCLAIR/SLOAN.
Our names looked great together.
“We have a car?” I asked.
“I want to take you around and didn’t want to be distracted with driving.”
The car was a black SUV with leather seats and bottled water in the console. Our driver, who introduced himself as Earl, told us he’d been taking people on tours of Nashville for a decade.
“Where to first?” Earl asked.
“We’d like to go to the hotel first so we can check in and drop our bags. We won’t be long, and then you can take us around the city,” Hunter said.
“I can’t wait to see everything,” I said, feeling like a kid.
Fifteen minutes later, Earl pulled up to an ivy-covered, three-story brick building in a quiet neighborhood. I immediately fell in love with its charming black shutters and a wide frontporch with rocking chairs and a small brass sign that read THE ADELICIA, EST. 1888.
“I love it,” I said.
“I thought you’d enjoy staying somewhere with some history.”
“You were right.” I leaned close to give him a quick peck before we got out of the car. Earl helped us with our bags and said he’d be waiting, but to take our time.
The Adelicia had once been a gilded-age mansion. The moment I stepped into the lobby, my creative juices started flowing. I stared up at the twelve-foot ceilings, marveling at the ornate carving in the crown molding, imagining the hands that had no doubt spent countless hours creating such beauty. Women from the past, wearing plumed hats and corsets whispered to me,tell our stories. What had the women who had once lived in this house been like? What had they thought about as they floated down the curved staircase, gloved hands gliding over the mahogany railing?
