Three days ago, he would have considered that a blessing. The problem was, since Ariel Sullivan entered his life, he was no longer sure.
The next afternoon was one of those days when she felt like an only child.
Wearing running clothes and sunglasses, her hair tucked under her Goodness of God cap and her favorite jazz playing through her earbuds, Ariel listened to her brother’s voicemail while she ran down Blueberry Boulevard toward the boardwalk. She hung up without leaving a message, knowing Ethan never listened to them; he simply called back. Or, more often, didn’t, since getting his farm back in shape and dealing with Sam’s problems took so much of his time and energy.
She couldn’t blame him. The man had more on his plate than he could handle, raising Sam without the boy’s mother. To his credit, since the death of his late wife, Shelly, two years ago, he’d tried to keep closer contact with Ariel. But their age gap alwaysseemed to stand in the way. Living almost eight hundred miles apart, when she wasn’t touring, hadn’t helped either.
Ariel didn’t need anything in particular today. But her conversation with Caleb in the parlor had stirred up a kind of homesickness she didn’t know how to describe or cure.
Sometimes a girl just needed her big brother, right?
She pulled up her sister Charlotte’s number and got her voicemail too. And Mama and Daddy were taking Sam to the bounce house in Port Joseph this afternoon, so she shouldn’t bother them.
Even her cousins Dani and Kate didn’t answer. Aunt Dahlia had made herself unavailable too, saying she wanted to answer emails and conduct business before getting ready for tonight’s rehearsal.
So she dialed Isaiah’s number. No answer. And naturally, no voicemail, since the man refused to use it.
Fine. Ariel would just run and pray.
She stepped onto the boardwalk with beautiful blue Lake Huron and its screeching seagulls to her left and a view of Island House Inn on her right. The scent of lilacs hit her even here, mingled with the aroma of Jonathon Island fudge. Passing the marina, the ferry dock, and the public beach, she caught sight of Aunt Dahlia and a tall, craggy-faced man with white hair and beard and a splinted right hand as they exited the arts center.
Isaiah, here on island. This day just got a whole lot happier.
She picked up her pace and, within minutes, threw herself into the arms of the man who was the grandfather she’d never met. “How did you know I needed you today? How is your hand?”
He patted her back—left-handed—then released her. “I’m not exactly pickin’ and grinnin’ yet, but I’m okay,” he said in his familiar country drawl.
“Did you have surgery?”
Isaiah shook his head. “Still too swollen. I got tired of hanging around Nashville with nothing to do, so I caught a flight up here to keep you in line, young lady.”
Ariel should have anticipated this. She’d gotten way too caught up in the excitement of her new responsibilities in the band and the nostalgia of the memory-saturated parlor. Too busy for her friend, as her relatives were apparently too busy for her today.
Regardless, Isaiah was here now, completing her band family.
“Heard about the kids’ choir you’re getting together.” He gave Ariel a fatherly pat on the head. “I’m proud of you, Sis.”
Aunt Dahlia’s smile didn’t hold its usual authenticity. “She needs more than your approval, Isaiah. She needs you to keep an eye on her. Doreen isn’t here, which is troublesome because Caleb Kennedy is the new innkeeper at our temporary hotel, and he’s interested. I don’t have anybody else to help me keep her safe.”
“No need to worry. Caleb and I are just friends.” Ariel laid her hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “I did sense some coziness this morning, though, when a petite little blonde got into a sailboat with a certain handsome white-haired gentleman.”
“What?” Aunt Dahlia’s soprano voice raised two octaves. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did, and so did—” She cut herself off, not wanting her aunt to know she’d gone to breakfast with Caleb. “Uh, I saw you get in?—”
“So did who? Caleb?” At the panic in her aunt’s voice, Ariel almost wished she hadn’t invited him to breakfast.
“Auntie, don’t worry. Caleb’s grandfather was in a mood this morning, and I suggested a walk so Caleb could cool off and get a new perspective.” She appealed to Isaiah, who merely stood there with his arms crossed and his eyebrows high. “Not a date.”
Doubt etched a crease between Aunt Dahlia’s brows. “Please make sure you keep it that way. I know you feel safe here on this little island, but men are men, no matter where they are. But for now, we have a problem—a room for Isaiah,” she said, clearly oblivious to the burn she’d just given Isaiah, lumping him in with all men. “Island House is full, and at the moment, it’s the only hotel open on this island.”
Oh, Ariel hadn’t thought of that.
“Don’t worry about me,” Isaiah said. “The pastor said I could borrow an air mattress and bunk down at the church.”
Aunt Dahlia shook her head, making her curls bounce. “That’s not the only problem. They double-booked the arts center, and the other party’s already using it. I started makin’ calls and pickin’ brains a little after ten this morning, but no luck.”
Ariel hesitated. What if Isaiah could stay in the parlor wing? “Don’t blow up that mattress yet. I have an idea.”
