Then Wes and Margaret stepped in. She started bringing me over for dinner at their house a few times a week. Soon, it was almost every night. She started taking me to school and cooked my dinner and let me play guitar as long as I ate my vegetables. By the time I was eleven I had a room there. By the time I was twelve it was the only home I knew.
When my marriage fell apart, Margaret had been the one to tell me to come and stay with them out in California. “Just until you get your legs under you again. Stay with us. Figure out what you want to do next.”
I’d been too gutted and too tired to argue, so I’d packed my guitars and what I could fit into two suitcases, gassed up my truck and driven west. That had been a year ago. I was still figuring out what was next.
However, I know without question, that Wes and Margaret Callahan saved my life when I was a kid. They became my family when I needed one. Beckoned me home decades later when I needed them yet again. And I loved them as fiercely as I loved anything in the world.
The lights were on in the kitchen and I could see them at the table, so I decided to pop in and say hello before heading to my cottage at the back of the property.
I knocked twice and opened the kitchen door. “Hey, ya’ll. Okay to come in?”
“Yes, get in here. We’ve been waiting for you.” Margaret was at the table with her crossword, reading glasses pushed up into her silver gold hair. Despite her age, she wore it long, with a streak of deep violet near the left temple that she’d added sometime in February. “I’m still a little rock and roll,” she’d said at the time. “Don’t you boys forget it.”
Tonight, she was wearing something soft and expensive-looking in a neutral color, her good turquoise ring, and dangling earrings. At sixty-eight she was lean and straight-backed. Apparently that’s what yoga and a whole food diet did for a person.
Wes was across from her with a biography, a glass of red wine at his elbow. Tall and lanky, with a quick smile but serious eyes, he’d aged well. His hair had gone white over the years, but hewas one of those lucky guys blessed with thick hair that hadn’t thinned.
“You eaten?” Margaret was already pushing back from the table.
“I work in a bar, Margaret.”
“Were there any vegetables at this so-called dinner?” Margaret asked.
“Do sweet potato fries count?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “In a pinch.”
“Come sit and have a glass of wine with us,” Wes said. “We have some exciting news.”
“What’s that?” I asked, already at the cabinet to pull out a glass.
“Ivy called,” Wes said. “She’s coming for a visit.”
“Really? But I thought she was on tour?” I poured a glass of wine for myself from the bottle on the counter.
“It’s over. And she’s worried about you,” Margaret said. “Something about the most talented songwriter in the industry hiding away playing bartender.”
I sighed before taking a sip of wine. “I can’t just sit around, not doing anything. Especially since I’m not actually writing these days.”
“You’ll get it back,” Margaret said. “Which is why Ivy wants to come visit. She’s hoping you two can do one of your magical collaborations. She’s desperate for material for her new album.”
As much as I’d love to see one of my best friends, the idea of her needing something from me that I might not be able to deliver made me sweat.
“She’s dropping her record label,” Wes said.
“No way. Why?” I asked.
“You know why,” Wes said.
I did. They treated Ivy like a commodity rather than an artist. Called her sweetheart and honey and acted like they were doingher a favor every time they recorded an album for her when it should have been the other way around. She’d made a lot of fat foxes rich in Nashville. She was tired of being exploited.
“She’s asked Wes to produce her new album,” Margaret said.
I nodded. “That’s a darn good idea. How do you feel?” I asked Wes. He had an incredible recording space downstairs that hadn’t been used for a few years. “You ready to get back on the horse?”
“I’ve been thinking maybe so,” Wes said. “It would be fun to work with her and you. We could make something really special.”
“When will she be here?” I asked.
