“Who would want a guitar pick with my face on it?”
“Your fans.”
She sighed. “It just seems so tacky.”
Well, that settled it. Once Aunt Dahlia declared something tacky, she never backed down.
Leaning closer to his date, or whatever Aunt Dahlia was to him, Mr. Augo gazed into her eyes. He lowered his voice to a hoarse near-whisper. “I’d buy a case of them and keep them all to myself.”
Ariel barely refrained from rolling her eyes.
When she’d covered every item on her agenda—except “Mercy Song”—she glanced at Caleb as he crossed the room toward her.
“I have a wonderful new song with a new style.” Ariel turned to Earl and caught the hope in his eyes. “It’s called ‘Mercy Song’ by Earl Butler.”
Her old friend tried to act as if her choice hadn’t affected him. But Ariel had a feeling it was the song of his heart, and his pleasure showed through his gruffness.
What was it about this island, this hotel? It had turned Aunt Dahlia into a different person, seemingly overnight. It had inspired Earl to write the best song of his career. And had given Ariel courage to take the first step into her new role in the band. Maybe a whole new role in life. These few moments of stretching her wings felt good.
And Aunt Dahlia would love the new song as much as Ariel did—she just knew it.
Few things in life made Caleb happier than the feel of a guitar in his hands. Tonight, he’d brought his favorite. The one he’d left here twelve years ago, never having played it after leaving the music store where he’d bought it. He hadn’t had a chance even toopen the case since finding it in his parents’ apartment, and he couldn’t wait to hold it.
It wasn’t his most expensive or most impressive guitar but rather the one he’d scrimped and saved for during his freshman year of college. Back when he went to the Red Cross and sold his plasma to pay off the guitar so he could come home and play with his parents and grandparents the night after Thanksgiving.
After that night, he’d never wanted to see it again, so when he went back to LA to join Drake’s band, he’d left it behind. But now, playing it on Ariel’s big night somehow seemed right.
In the parlor, with rain falling in sheets and blowing against the window walls on either side of the massive door, Caleb could hardly wait to take the guitar from its case and feel the smooth wood, the tight strings, and create the mystery of music with his friends. White with a matching scratchplate, this guitar had never been played in the years he had it.
Standing next to Granddad at the upright bass, Ariel passed out sheet music to the musicians who wanted to use it instead of their iPads. Caleb preferred paper, so he grabbed a paper-clipped stack and took a seat in the back, where he’d left his guitar case.
The usual noise and chaos began as the musicians tuned guitars, violins, Dobro, mandolin, and electric bass. Drummer Keith Harper banged on his drum kit with the energy of a fifth grader.
Then came the unmistakable rich tones of the upright bass. Caleb turned toward the smooth sound. Sure enough, Granddad stood—stood—at his instrument, tuning with the rest of the band. Stopped and gave Caleb a thumbs-up, then played a pretty good walkup.
Caleb laughed and returned the gesture. Then he unlatched his case, opened it.
And found his father’s violin inside. The one he’d considered lost forever.
He blinked, fast. Stared down at the instrument.
Was this a joke? He raised his gaze and scanned the room, but nobody paid any attention to him.
Caleb looked at the instrument again. No mistaking its ownership or the ancient patina on the smooth wood as he ran his hand over the delicate instrument, where his father’s fingerprints no doubt still remained. He lifted it from the case as if a deep breath might shatter it, and then he held it. Just held it, taken aback by the feel of the instrument in his hands.
Caleb swallowed down the swell of emotion of both the lost and the found.
Then he noticed a lumpy bag in the case. He set the violin on the seat beside him and opened the soft bag and found a set of brass keys matching the ones Michelle had given him.
Except this ring held marked keys. Including keys to all the Kennedy apartments plus the attic and his father’s army dog tags.
Dad’s key ring. The one he’d given Ariel all those years ago—and she still remembered.
Which explained why the case hadn’t felt too light to be his guitar. He gazed at the tags a moment, then dropped the ring back into the case.
He turned around and looked at Granddad, who still stood at the bass, gaze fixed on his sheet music.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to show the violin to Granddad. Caleb reached for the bow and carried it and the violin to his grandfather. “Granddad, I found this in my guitar case.”
