“For now, it’s my voice,” Hunter said. “Adequate but nothing like Jack could do.”
“He’ll shred that song,” Margaret said.
“Can I hear it?” I asked.
“Sure,” Ivy said. “We’ll give you a little concert after dinner with both the new songs. See what you think. You can be our beta listener.”
“Really?” I bounced on the stool. “This is like Christmas.”
A few minutes later, the tacos were ready. Margaret set up a buffet on one side of the island with everything one could want in a fish taco: slaw, a creamy lime salsa, avocados, pickled jalapeños, fresh cilantro, and warm corn tortillas that Margaret had heated directly on the gas burner. Wes and Tyler came in from outside, eager to share an update on the ice cream situation.
“We’ve put it in the outside freezer,” Wes said. “Should be perfect in a few hours.”
We all lined up at the taco bar and then moved to the dining room where Margaret had the table set simply with silverware, napkins and water glasses. The table looked out through sliding glass doors to the patio and the darkening ocean beyond.
The food was delicious—pan fired halibut and Margaret’s homemade slaw with the lime crema melting on the tongue.
“This slaw,” Ivy said, closing her eyes after the first bite. “Margaret, did you put something illegal in here. It’s way too good.”
“Nothing illegal tonight,” Margaret said. “Although, one time I grazed my knuckles shredding the cabbage, and I’m pretty sure there was blood in the slaw.”
“She’s making that up,” Wes said. “There’s no blood in the slaw.”
“Not tonight,” Margaret said, eyes sparkling.
The conversation moved from one thing to another. Wes asked Tyler about what position he played on the baseball team. Tyler told him he played short stop and was working on improving his batting average. Wes listened with genuine attention, asking the right questions. Tyler ate up every moment, clearly delighted to talk baseball with someone who followed the game as closely as he did.
Ivy had questions for me about writing. How did I know when a book was finished? Did I write every day or in bursts? Had I always written romance or had I started somewhere else?
“I always want to write romance,” I said. “From the time I used to get them by the dozen at the library. There was this kiosk of paperbacks just as you walked in. That’s all I needed.”
“What did your dad think about your reading choices?” Hunter asked.
“At first, he teased me about them. My dad taught English but he liked a commercial type book as much as the next guy, especially cozy mysteries. So he didn’t mind too much. Then one day, I found him reading one of the romances, so into it that he didn’t even hear me come in the room. After that, he didn’t tease me again.”
“I love it,” Ivy said. “And thank goodness he didn’t squash your love of romance or there would be a lot of sad readers wishing for something they didn’t even know they’d lost.”
“But how could they, if they didn’t exist?” Tyler asked. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.”
“Disagree,” Ivy said. “That’s what our new song’s about.”
I thought about twelve-year-old Hunter walking into this kitchen with a guitar named after something he’d lost without knowing what it was.
“How long have you two known each other?” I asked, looking between Hunter and Ivy.
“Fifteen years,” Ivy said. “I met him at a writers’ round at The Meadowlark Café in Nashville. He was twenty-three and I was twenty. Both of us scared out of our minds.”
“I was so nervous I spilled my drink on Ivy,” Hunter said. “All over her best dress.”
“No, really?” I asked.
“My only dress,” Ivy said. “But I barely noticed that I was damp and smelled like cheap beer. I was just so happy to be there for a writers’ round.”
“What’s a writers’ round?” Tyler asked.
Hunter set down his taco and turned to Tyler. “It’s usually three or four songwriters together in a small venue like a bar or just a back room somewhere. You all sit in a circle on a little stage with your guitars and take turns playing your original songs. You play one, then the next person plays one, and you rotate around the circle all night.”
“Like an open mic?” Tyler asked.
