Ariel found Mr. Earl less interesting than Augo Kennedy, who sat across from him, the table’s only empty chair beside him. When he’d danced with Aunt Dahlia last night, Ariel had the impression they knew each other—maybe very well. Yet she’d never seen him before.
The man’s white hair and spectacular thick, well-groomed white mustache whispered older age, but his powerful-looking arms and chest shouted youthfulness. His voice strong and deep, Mr. Augo chatted Mr. Earl up. “I met Dahlia the year three of the songs you wrote for us hit gold, Earl. Back when I played bass for The Oakridge Boys. In Nashville’s RCA Studio A, Monday, June 17, 1985, at 4:17 in the afternoon. She had on faded jeans and a pink shirt, and she wore her hair long and curly.”
Mr. Earl just nodded, his silence as sober as if he’d pulled his car to the side of the road for a funeral procession. “I was there, and I remember you playing that upright like it was an extension of your body,” he finally said, his voice as deep and gravelly as Merle Haggard’s. “When Nashville lost you, it lost part of its soul.”
“I doubt that. But when she left me, I lost mine.”
“I know. Had my share of that too.” A heavy silence fell between the men, and Mr. Earl swigged his sweet tea. “All those years, she never dated anyone after you.”
Mr. Augo nodded, his focus on his own glass as the seconds passed. “I know.”
Ariel had to look away from the pain in both men’s eyes. She turned back to Caleb, who visibly swallowed hard.
“Guess that explains how your aunt and my uncle got so chummy so fast when they saw each other again,” Caleb whispered, close enough that his breath tickled her ear.
“And why Aunt Dahlia apparently invited him tonight,” she murmured back.
Before she could process the thought, Aunt Dahlia came sailing through the room in her flowing white boho dress, commanding everyone’s attention. The moment she saw Augo Kennedy, her eyes widened. Softened. She slowed to a near stop and held the man’s gaze as she closed the distance between them like a bride approaching the altar.
The thought sent through Ariel’s veins an unfamiliar sense of—what? Confusion? Insecurity?
Mistrust?
All three?
Suddenly realizing her aunt would soon claim the only empty seat around the table, Ariel tore her gaze away and turned to Caleb. As host, he’d find seats for them.
After seeing and hearing all this, Ariel needed one.
Caleb’s attention seemed to settle on a table for two she hadn’t noticed in the back corner, next to a window overlooking the dimly lit garden. With its white tablecloth, rosebuds in two matching pink vases, and a candle, it didn’t look as if it belonged in a room mostly full of men.
This couldn’t be an accident…
“Um, I’m not sure how this happened. I set up this room myself this afternoon. One long table for thirteen.” He glanced around the room, a furrow forming between his brows. “There’s not room for it with the others, since someone moved the dessert table to the end. And I’m not sure why the flowers and candles?—”
Something behind her caught his attention, and his face reddened. Ariel turned to see a lanky, bottle-dark-haired woman of about seventy-five wearing a leaf-green, no-nonsense dress and peering through the glass door. She gave Caleb a grin and wave, then turned and scuttled into the lobby.
“Aunt Annabelle Kennedy. She set up that table for us.” He puffed out a breath. “I apologize for my aunt. She’s Granddad and Uncle Augo’s sister. She lives here at the inn and knows everything that happens on this island and considers herself a champion matchmaker.” He rested his hand on the small of her back and started toward the romantic little table. “Apparently, she’s set her mind on getting us together.”
Which would make Aunt Dahlia even more unhappy.
Before she could respond, Blake came into the room, hefting a huge tray of Maryland crab cakes and steamed mussels, along with tea for Ariel and a pot of coffee and pitcher of cream for Caleb.
“What, two dates in two days?” Blake placed his tray on a stand and set down their appetizers and drinks as Caleb pulled out Ariel’s chair for her. “Looks like I’m the only confirmed bachelor left on this island.”
“And it looks like I’m going to hire new fill-in waitstaff.” The faux threat in Caleb’s eye as he seated himself made Ariel laugh.
His uncle prayed over the meal, then Ariel took a bite of her perfectly seasoned, crispy crab cake. “I don’t want this to turn awkward for you, between the matchmaking and our relatives’budding relationship. You can take the flowers and candles off the table if you want.”
A part of her hoped he’d say no and they could spend the rest of the evening among the flowers and candles. “I’m okay with this if you are. And my uncle can do as he pleases.”
“So can my aunt. Besides, I like the decorations.”
Blake pushed open the door to the lobby, carrying a tray of spring rolls. Before the door shut, a loud, shrill laugh rang out.
Caleb grimaced a little as if the harsh sound grated on his ears. “Um, that’s Aunt Annabelle. She’s bringing dinner to Granddad tonight.” He paused a moment, turning his attention back to the table. “I remember now. These vases are hers. She always gets them out on holidays.”
“That means they’re sentimental. Why would she risk breaking them by bringing them here?”
