Island House Inn. For a split second, Ariel could smell logs burning in the parlor fireplace and fresh pine wreaths and trees, hear Christmas carols piping from antiquated speakers. Feel warmth seeping through her soaked ski pants and heavy coat. Taste sweetened hot milk Mrs. Cara Kennedy had given her after the children’s traditional tromp in the state forest during the season’s first snow.
Ariel’s family home had held similar scents and aromas, and they’d sung the same old carols there too. But that one evening at Island House, those little comforts had felt different. To this day, she believed Mrs. Kennedy—and her kind, older son, Caleb—understood her more than her family or her classmates had. Classmates who considered Ariel an oddity, since she’d spent two months traveling and singing at Aunt Dahlia’s Christmas concert tour the previous year. And because she’d soon become a country music star herself.
Mrs. Kennedy might also have paid extra attention to Ariel because she knew the Sullivans had expected Aunt Dahlia to arrive later that night.
Arrive to take her away.
Away to Nashville. To stardom.
Leaving her family and their farm far behind.
She took in the quiet little airport, the tangle of trees beyond. Could an old historic inn on a tiny island hold more than just lodging? Give her back that sense of home she missed, fill the emptiness of life on the road six months every year?
Maybe even inspire her to prove herself in the crazy industry she hadn’t chosen?
Ariel lifted her gaze to the bright blue, seemingly endless sky. “Yes. Harry, please take our things to Island House Inn.”
Chapter Two
Afamiliar ache in her chest, like the one she felt whenever she heard good jazz, overshadowed the island reunion with Ariel’s family as Daddy, Mama, and cousin Dani drew near in the family’s vintage horse-drawn cart. After all these years at Aunt Dahlia’s Nashville horse farm, in the recording studio, on the road and on the stage, this sudden aura of permanence and quiet island living impacted Ariel in a new way. Here, on the old familiar road, with the first night birds calling, the past and the present melded into one.
Maybe it meant she’d spent too much time away from her family home. Or that she could never truly come back.
The thought saddened her more than she would have expected.
On the other hand, how much should she concern herself with a fleeting emotion?
Daddy pulled to a stop and jumped down from that cart like a man her brother Ethan’s age, his wavy brown hair messy in the island breeze, then gave her an awkward hug, as usual. “Good to have you home, little girl.”
He offered his hand to Ariel’s pretty blonde mama, but she declined his help and slid from her perch on her own, then wrapped Ariel in her arms.
Apparently, Mama’s passive-aggression toward their father was alive and healthy.
She could always count on her Southern mama making her feel welcome. Wanted. Sometimes wistful. Like now, with half the family missing, including Charlotte, still at her New York home. “Why couldn’t Ethan and Sam come?”
Mama got that look on her face—the one Ariel had never seen before Ethan’s wife, Shelly, passed away and some seemingly unnamed fear had gotten ahold of Mama. “Sam’s—still struggling.”
Right. Over the family’s move home from Port Joseph, where they’d gone for Shelly’s chemo and then stayed after her passing.
“What’s the matter with him?” Aunt Dahlia broke the moment as Dani hopped down from the cart and stood next to her, off to the side of the family circle.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Dahlia. We didn’t mean to exclude you. You know you’re my favorite aunt.” Mama hurried to her side and gave her the quick shoulder hug the older lady preferred.
Daddy grimaced as if he’d meant to do just that—exclude her.
Mama gave him a look, then turned back to her aunt. “He’s mad at Ethan for making him leave his school and his classmates. He thrived there, interacting every day with other children like himself.”
Daddy tied the horse to the nearby hitching post. “He does nothing but sit on the couch and watch some silly cartoon on TV.”
“Barry the Bear.” Dani reached Ariel’s side and gave her a quick hug, her long hair pulled up in a neat blonde updo. A Jonathon Island girl for sure, wearing black running shorts and a white tank top, even in the island’s sixty-degree weather.
Her cousin glanced around. “Where’s Doreen? Did your aunt actually leave your watchdog at home?”
Ariel held back an unladylike snicker at hearing their secret nickname for the sixtysomething retired army nurse who now served as Ariel and Aunt Dahlia’s assistant. “Doreen fell and had hip replacement surgery.”
“Which means you’ll have more fun without your bodyguard keeping away every eligible man.”
Yes, Aunt Dahlia’s tall, big-boned, lifelong friend always understood the assignment. Her very presence and aura had scared away dozens of men.
