Or had the time come to open the room, to face the memories and the loss?
He took another drink of his now not-so-hot coffee. It didn’t matter, because he couldn’t. “I haven’t seen that room for twelve years. When Granddad closed the parlor wing, he vowed it would stay locked forever.”
A shadow flickered across her face. “Could we ask him?”
The longing in her eyes took him aback, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get that key and allow her to relive a happy memory. As it was, he felt like a rat, telling her no. “I wouldn’t mind if you used it every day. But Granddad hid the keys, and he refuses to tell anyone where.”
“The whole wing—guest rooms too?” Her voice raised an octave. “What a shame. It would’ve come in handy for you when all those Grand guests descended on your inn.”
“That’s for sure.” Even so, the memory of its closing brought an ache to his chest. “I wish he’d let my family move back into our apartments on the parlor wing’s third floor. We all took suites in the garden wing after the accident—me, Granddad, Uncle Augo, and Aunt Annabelle.”
Her eyes widened as she reached over the table and squeezed his hand. “There was an accident in the parlor wing?”
Although time had taken the sharpest edge off his grief, her soothing voice and touch threatened to do him in. He drewa deep breath against the sudden tightness in his chest and swallowed hard.
“I was home from college for Thanksgiving break during my freshman year. Granddad’s maintenance man, Wes Riley, moved home that summer after living in Natchez for twenty years. He must have forgotten how to test the ice on the lake, because he, his wife, and their eight-year-old daughter all fell through.”
Ariel covered her mouth with her other hand, her eyes wide.
“It gets worse. Mom and Dad were walking along the shore, and they saw it happen. They called for help and then, according to a witness, they gave their lives trying to save them.”
Her hand slid down to her throat. “Wait, I remember now. They drowned in the freezing water.”
“My dad saved Michelle, the daughter.”
The shop door swung open, and a cool wind blew in from the lake. Caleb still wasn’t used to the fact that his now-short hair didn’t blow with it anymore and somehow made the chill feel colder.
Which wouldn’t have happened if he still lived in LA.
Ariel’s fingers tightened in his grip, and the comfort the simple gesture brought surprised him, warmed him. Fingers so slender, a hand so small and gentle, it was a wonder she could manage some of the complex chords he’d heard her play.
“What happened to Michelle?”
“She didn’t have any other relatives, so an island family took her in as their foster child. Now she’s in college and works at the hotel, in laundry and housekeeping. Granddad helped her a lot through the years.”
“That was kind of him.”
The dull ache in his chest reminded him he’d never told this story before, fresh fatigue taking a sudden toll. But for some reason, he wanted her to know the rest. “Between Thanksgivingand New Year’s, my family played a mini-Christmas concert for local friends and hotel guests in the parlor every night. Mom on the piano, and Dad, Uncle Augo, and Granddad taking turns on violin, cello, and upright bass. That evening, before everything blew up, I played along on sax.”
“Maybe that’s where my aunt got the idea for our band’s annual Christmas tour.” Ariel sipped her steamer, slowing the conversation’s pace and helping him to process the pain again. “I didn’t know your whole family played music.”
“Everybody except Grandma. Granddad could play slap bass with the best of them until the stroke. But he’s all business, which caused the argument that led to the tragedy. Just after our guests came, he got on me about my duty to come home from college and learn to run the inn.”
Ariel’s eyes grew wide. “Instead of becoming a pro musician.”
“Right. I’d just started the music program at Los Angeles College of Music. I played on the worship team at Drake’s church, and he offered me a job the day before I came home for Thanksgiving.”
“A job with his band? Before you graduated?”
Caleb nodded, dropped his gaze to his mug and its half inch of cold coffee. “I’d already told my family that I’d quit school and would start working for Drake after New Year’s. My parents said I was eighteen and could make up my own mind. Granddad argued that they’d eventually stopped traveling with the symphony, and I should settle down too. And work at the inn, as they did in their final few years.”
“And all their friends were there to hear it.”
“It gets worse. Uncle Augo wanted me to enter the ministry, so he took my side in the fight. He said the Lord had called me to play in a Christian band. Let me tell you, it got loud and it got ugly.”
He swallowed back the grief that still welled up after all these years, his gaze fixed on his brown coffee mug. “In front of everybody, Mom and Dad said they were proud of me and trusted me to make the right decision. Then they stepped out to take a walk and let everybody calm down. About that time, Michelle and her family fell through the ice.”
“Mr. Bojangles” drifted through the speakers, bringing with it a melancholy aura.
