Better change the subject. “Speaking of music—sort of—when do you start working on the band’s new image?”
“I already have. I’m the first reader of potential new songs, so I stayed up late last night and went to the restaurant to play the music the writers gave me. I found two songs with potential.”Ariel stopped and faced the water, shading her eyes from the sun. “Until this morning, I never realized how much all our songs sound alike.”
Caleb thought about that for a moment. “To some extent, yes. Your lyrics are about love, hope, faith. Always wholesome and positive. But that’s your style, and it shouldn’t change.”
Ariel held his gaze, maybe judging his sincerity or maybe considering his heartfelt words.
Caleb refused to look back at them again, focusing on the Main Street shops and tourists instead. If Uncle Augo thought he could handle a woman as talented and famous as Miss Dahlia—and as independent—let him try. “Just a warning—we have a decent-sized coffee shop, but I’m sure it doesn’t compare to Nashville restaurants.”
“We don’t eat in the city much, mostly only when we record. I prefer the locally owned coffee shop and café in the small town near our horse ranch.”
This day was full of surprises.
“They’re getting in the boat.” Ariel turned her attention that way. “Where do you think they’ll go?”
“Probably Indigo Island. It’s his favorite place for a picnic lunch.” He followed her gaze to see Uncle Augo and Miss Dahlia strolling out onto the slip. His uncle took her hand as she stepped onto his fast little Ranger 26 sailboat, lingering long with the touch. Even from this distance, Caleb sensed the spark between the two.
He groaned inside at the awkwardness of his sixtysomething-year-old great-uncle with a crush on a woman who happened to be a superstar and would leave this island next month.
On the other hand, maybe his uncle would follow Miss Dahlia back to Nashville and take his not-an-innkeeper great-nephew with him.
But wishful thinking never solved a problem.
They took the boardwalk over the beach, then started north on Ferry Street, doubling back to Main, where the chocolaty sweet-and-bitter aromas of fresh-made fudge and fresh-ground coffee mixed and wafted through the air. When they reached Good Day Coffee, with its shiny black bench and pots of yellow daisies at the door, they passed a long pastry counter and a case of bottled fruit juices and flavored lemonades and sparkling waters before they found Dani at a table in the back.
The coffee grinders nearly drowned out the Simon and Garfunkel song playing through the speakers as Ariel slid onto a white ice-cream-shop-style padded chair next to her cousin. Caleb sat across the table from them.
“I heard Miss Dahlia has a sailing date with your uncle this morning, Caleb.” Dani didn’t even try to hide her huge grin.
“News gets around fast. We just saw them at the yacht club, getting into Uncle Augo’s boat.”
“We’re a small town at heart, especially where gossip is concerned.”
Ariel gave her a quick hug. “Thanks to you catching a vision for revitalizing the island and making it happen.”
“With lots of help. Including your aunt’s generous donations.”
“Speaking of donations, I need to create a social media post, inviting local or visiting high school kids to a voice lesson and to perform at the concert. Want to help us craft it?”
Dani pulled her tablet from her bag. “We can send it through the tourism department’s social media. Then you can have your people put it on your pages.”
“We’ll need to include requirements. High school church choir or school chorus members only and they must know how to read music.” Ariel thought a moment, then reached for her idea book from her guitar case and jotted some notes. “We’ll setup lights and a sound system for the voice lessons, to make them more comfortable at the actual concert.”
When the women finished their plans, Caleb and Ariel ordered “Blessed Good Egg Sandwiches,” as the menu described them, but Dani wanted just a sparkling iced lemonade. Caleb asked for his usual Bridge Fog Latte, and Ariel wanted a steamer with French vanilla flavoring and lots of whipped cream.
Caleb half listened as the two cousins caught up, his mind drifting to his ongoing problems at the inn. When the current guests left—the ones who wanted to stay at the Grand—would he have any business? Poor ratings popped up hourly, it seemed, and no new guests had checked in.
After Dani left for her meeting and Ariel had signed a few autographs and taken pictures with fans, she started to reach for her guitar case. Then instead she leaned toward him across the wooden table. “You look as if you’re carrying every inch of that hotel on your shoulders. Have things gotten that bad?”
Oh, yeah. And worse. “If Granddad could help a little, give me advice about something more important than light bulbs, maybe I could handle the load. But his mind isn’t clear. We both saw that this morning. He’ll never run the inn again, so it’s up to me from now on.”
“Can’t you sell it? Find a nice assisted-living home for him, then go back to Drake’s band?”
“Maybe I could find someone to buy the inn—someone with the money to fix it up. But it’s more complicated than that. Uncle Augo and I have lived in different places, but Granddad and Aunt Annabelle have lived in this inn all their lives. Moving at their ages would cause them a lot of pain.” He took a swallow from his mug and fought a shudder. Nothing tasted worse than cold coffee. “I also have to consider the legacy.”
“There’s that word again. Aunt Dahlia uses it with me all the time.”
He could believe it. “My family lost the inn during the Great Depression, and my great-grandfather got it back. I don’t want to be the second Kennedy to lose it.”
