She stepped back. She felt flustered, probably because she was remembering his warning about not hurting Evie and onlya few moments ago she’d been worrying about the same thing herself. “No. I’m meeting Evie in five minutes. I heard the piano—” She noticed that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows and his forearms were tanned and strong. She shifted her gaze back to the bar and the crowd of people gathered round singing. “You have a music night?”
He followed her gaze. “The singing is impromptu, but yes, we have music nights. In the winter months it’s mostly the locals flexing their vocal cords with friends, but in summer we’re a little more organised. The tourists like it. It brings in business, and business is always welcome.”
She listened as the man at the piano shifted from folk to jazz. “He’s good.”
“Ray? Don’t tell him that. He’ll put his prices up. You play?”
“I used to. I started when I was six and had lessons until I was eighteen.” Every Tuesday and Friday. Her mother had been big on routine.
His blue eyes were fixed on her face. “Don’t tell me—Chopin, Rachmaninov—some Mozart.”
“You can tell that by looking at me?”
“You seem the type. Serious. Dedicated. The type that would devote an hour a day to piano practice.”
Two hours, she thought.Sometimes three.
But she didn’t tell him that. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. She didn’t want him to feel he knew her.
“Maybe I’m not what you think I am.”
“Maybe you’re not. But then again maybe you’re exactly who I think you are.” His gaze moved slowly from her face to her running shoes. “I gather you’re not planning to spend the evening singing round the piano.”
“No, which is probably lucky for you. I’m going for a run.
Evie is going to show me something of the local area.”
“How was your first day at work?”
She was still figuring out how to answer that when his phone rang.
He swore softly and dug it out of his pocket. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.”
She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. All she knew was that the knot of tension in her stomach eased slightly as he turned away. She had a feeling he was a human lie detector.
“Dad? Is everything okay?”
She walked to the door that led to the street, trying not to listen.
Yes, I know that … yes, you told me that already … I’ve got it covered …
His voice was gruff and low but surprisingly patient.
She stepped out onto the street into evening sunshine, feeling sympathy. She knew what it was like constantly trying to please a parent. To live up to high standards. It was tiring.
She frowned, wondering where that thought had come from. It was true that her mother had high standards and expected a lot from her, but Abby knew it came from a place of love and caring. Her mother had faced tough challenges during her life. She’d done everything she could to ensure Abby’s future was as secure as possible and Abby was grateful for that.
Still, she was feeling increasingly frustrated that there were big gaps in her past she knew nothing about. Maybe it was being here that was making her more aware of it. Making her ask questions. Her mother had lived here.She’dlived here. And she didn’t even know where. Had they had a house? Had her mother lived in the hotel? She understood why her mother was reluctant to talk about the loss she’d experienced, but surely something as simple as a place of residence shouldn’t be a no-go area?
“Abby!”
She looked up and saw Evie weaving between tourists, a pink hat jammed onto her head. She waved at Abby, dodged a couple with a toddler, narrowly avoided tripping over a dog’s lead, and arrived breathless and smiling.
“Sorry, am I late? It’s about five minutes to my house from here but always takes much longer.”
“Because of the crowds?”
