If Ariel were the snoopy sort, and if she sneaked a look over Aunt Dahlia’s shoulder, she’d surely see a romantic text fromMr. Augo Kennedy. The handsome great-uncle of the equally handsome Caleb Kennedy.
Apparently, Ariel was on her own. At least for now.
She turned to the page titledIsland House Innand inscribedThe New Miss Dahlia and Arielat the top of the fresh leaf. “Let’s think back. Our last huge splash before our CMA haul this year came when we won two multi-platinum awards the year before. That’s when we hired Andre Dublin to make our stage sets more contemporary, and we blended a little more rock into our country style.”
Aunt Dahlia put down the phone and played a few random, slightly off-key treble notes on the piano keyboard. “I guess we could go heavier on the rock sound, but I hate to give up our country roots.”
“We need to stay authentic, not jump into a new genre.” Earl gave Ariel his furrowed-brow scowl of disapproval and spoke in a tone he’d never used with her, his voice holding more than its usual note of grumpiness. “We’re country, Ariel. Not rock stars.”
“Does everybody agree?” When the room turned silent, Ariel lifted her gaze from her book to discern the mood in the room. Earl’s grumpiness had always amused her in the past, when he aimed it at her aunt. It wasn’t so funny now.
After an hour’s discussion with no good solutions, Ariel closed her idea book and capped her pen. “Auntie, we’re not making progress. I think we need to let the problem simmer for a while before talking about it again. So, since you put me in charge of this meeting, I’m shutting it down.”
“I have a message from the band. Leroy, the bus driver, texted me five minutes ago and said their ferry just docked,” her aunt said, checking her phone. “We’ll see you all at the inn’s private dining room in two hours.”
The team of songwriters jumped up and headed for the door instead of hanging around as usual after a meeting, as if they felt the awkwardness of Ariel’s leadership as much as she did.
Aunt Dahlia shut the door behind the last one, then joined Ariel at the table. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Always the optimist.
“It was terrible.” Elbows on the table, Ariel covered her face with her hands for a moment. “You let me lead the meeting, and I blew it.”
Aunt Dahlia’s eyes widened. “How did you blow it?”
“Nobody had a single viable idea. Including me.”
“It’s not your fault they couldn’t come up with a brilliant plan on the spur of the moment. Remember, I sprang the idea on them just an hour ago.”
True. “But why did you want me to head up this meeting?”
“You do a great job of improvising and rolling with whatever happens onstage. Now you need to learn to play business meetings by ear too. Get all the experience you can while I’m still around.”
While she’s still around? Ariel’s chest tightened as the words sank in. She didn’t mean?—
She grabbed Aunt Dahlia’s hand. “You’re—you’re okay, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” Her aunt squeezed back.
“Then why now?”
“I want you to be ready to take over my legacy when the time comes. You never know. I might step away from music someday and start a clothing or home décor line. Maybe even open a chain of Southern-cooking restaurants, featuring my famous fried chicken and corn pudding.” She smiled that big smile that always made Ariel feel better. “Or I might up and propose to some handsome man and get married.”
An image of Mr. Augo dancing with Aunt Dahlia flitted across Ariel’s mind. Yes, considering the number of marriage proposals her aunt received every week, she’d want to do the asking.
Aunt Dahlia released Ariel’s hand and fluffed her wig, as if that great big, beautiful tangle needed to get any poofier. “Did you expect to hear a dozen new ideas today?”
“Wasn’t I supposed to?”
“It doesn’t always work that way.”
So she’d learned. “What will Earl and the rest of them do now?”
“They’ll do what all writers do. They’ll go away, let the problem simmer while they eat a good meal and while they sleep tonight, and then they’ll let the ideas pop into their heads. You can’t force business strategies any more than you can force lyrics.” Her aunt stood and strolled toward her bedroom, unruffled as always. “They come to you when they’re ready.”
Although not a lyricist herself, Ariel knew from the songwriters—and her aunt—that she spoke truth. She also knew truth often brought clarity.
At this moment, she needed that clarity for both the band and her life more than ever.
