Ariel stepped to the piano as if approaching a queen.
When she sat on the shiny black bench, Caleb didn’t know if he expected to hear a ballad, love song, Christian country tune, or Earl’s new composition. But he couldn’t have anticipatedthe sound that soon oozed from the big concert grand, which Granddad had apparently kept tuned all these years. The song’s melody rang familiar, but the style did not as she played a smooth jazz intro to the world’s most beloved hymn.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”
Moving into the next line, Ariel enhanced her voice with a jazz flavor, bending just the right notes to intensify the song’s natural emotion. Adding jazz runs and grace notes and walkups to the keys, she told her own rendition of the age-old story of grace.
The mix of perfect piano sound, the most beautiful voice in Nashville, and the little curls the wind had pulled from Ariel’s knot of hair did something strange to his heart. To his resolve to keep an emotional distance from this beautiful, sweet woman.
He sat next to her on the bench, sang a baritone harmony, and watched her eyes grow wide. She didn’t miss a note, though, and played through the last verse, ending with a flourish.
“And grace will lead me home.”
She held the sustain and let the last note ring out and reverberate in the air.
“I knew you could sing, but Caleb, I had no idea what you could do with jazz,” she said after the note finally faded. Her face flushed, she reached for his hand and held it with a tender touch. “So smooth, so rich. You were created to sing jazz.”
“I thought the same about you. And I did not expect you to know jazz chords.”
“Isaiah taught me, years ago. Most people think he plays only country. To me, jazz has the most passion, the most impact of any genre. It’s unpretentious in style yet emotionally complex.”
It sure was. “Is this the new sound for your band?”
She laughed. “Just for fun. Aunt Dahlia has a lot of wonderful qualities, but jazzy isn’t one of them.”
Caleb had to agree. “Want to play through your new songs?”
Ariel stood and got out her guitar and the music, then quick-tuned to notes he hit on the piano. They played each new song the writers gave her, adding vocals and improvising a bit to try various styles.
They saved “Mercy Song” for last.
“You called it right,” Caleb said after they’d run through it twice. “This song is amazing.”
“Before I saw ‘Mercy Song,’ I didn’t know if we needed a new subgenre or simply a fresh way to present the same kind of music we’ve always played. Maybe more complex arrangements. Or a change in our concert style, like interactive stage props or a country-themed backdrop.” Ariel set down the guitar and moved back to the piano seat. “But honestly, I think the problem is the music.”
“The new songs from the other writers suit the band. They’re not bad, just familiar. Any band could play these songs and recognize them as yours.”
“Staying on brand can be good. However, I still need to refresh this band as much as you need to refresh this inn.” Ariel stood from the bench and stretched, glanced around the room again. “Caleb, what if you did reopen this wing? Its vintage feel will resonate with a lot of people, and not everybody can afford the Grand.”
“It wouldn’t take much work. Michelle’s kept it in perfect shape.”
“What do the guest rooms look like?”
“Leather, built-in bookcases, lots of wood, like this room. Rich, dark colors and upscale vintage rugs and curtains, antique furniture.”
“Grandfather chic.”
He grinned. “If you say so.”
Ariel gathered her music and stashed it and her guitar in the case. “Rehearsal’s in our suite tonight at seven.”
Caleb started to agree. Then on impulse…“Why not meet here instead?”
Her eyes widened. “And defy your grandfather?”
“He already wants to boot me out, so it can’t hurt.” He gazed at the door, the ancient entrance. “What if this section of the inn really can be redeemed? My family’s sins atoned for, the pain healed, relationships mended? It won’t happen as long as we keep treating the parlor like a shrine.”
“According to all I’ve seen and heard since I got here,” she said, “there’s every chance your grandfather will ask you to leave.”
