Brady acknowledged the invitation with a glance at me before responding, “Well, I haven’t exactly been invited.”
She flung her shawl over one shoulder with drama and passion. “We didn’t know you when we sent out the invitations. But it’s next Saturday at eleven o’clock at our house. You can R-S-V-P to Mommy,” Hannah said before putting all her sheet music in her cubby and then coming toward me. I picked her up and hugged her.
“You’re getting pretty good with those rock anthems,Chiquita,” I told her. I turned toward Sheldon and his mom. “Why don’t you set up in room two. Brady will be there in a second.”
They disappeared into the next practice room as the doorbell jangled again. “Tris? Hannah?” Stacy’s voice called out from below.
My friend was really too good to be true sometimes. She’d been looking out for Hannah much more than she’d ever done since Grams had passed away. My struggle to keep the store open had me working so many hours I wondered how my ninety-year-old grandmother had done it. Of course, she hadn’t had a little girl at home waiting for her. For many years, her house had been empty unless I was staying for the summer. I was sure the store had kept her from being lonely.
“We’re here,” I called.
“Can you just send Hannah down? I’m double-parked.”
I hugged my daughter tightly. “I love you. Be good. Have fun. Listen to Stacy,” I told her. I didn’t need to say any of it. Hannah was already too good and too old and too wise for her years. I put her down, and she raced down the stairs with barely a backward glance.
“Bye, Mommy. Bye, Brady. See you later.”
I followed her down the steps far enough to see her stick her hand in Stacy’s and called out. “I’ll pick her up around five. Thanks for getting the party supplies.”
“No problem. See you tonight.”
And they were gone.
The silence was broken by the sound of Sheldon warming up on his guitar. I turned to find Brady watching me. I ran a hand over my ponytail just as he stepped closer, tucking an escaped curl behind my ear and causing my entire body to go still.
“I’d like to RSVP now,” he said, eyes traveling to my lips and back up.
“You don’t have to come,” I said.
“Can I bring Cassidy and Chevelle? My parents leave on Wednesday, and I don’t want to leave her at the house alone for too long.”
“Of course. We’d love to have Cassidy there…” I trailed off.
“But?”
“It’s just. She’s not exactly twelve. She doesn’t need a babysitter.”
Brady’s smile slipped away. “I know. But her body’s been through a lot, and she falls easily. If something happened because I was gone all day…”
This was obviously not the time or place for this discussion. I had a feeling that the strong, independent woman I knew as Cassidy O’Neil could handle anything her body was doing, but Brady and his family seemed to see her as if she were encased in fragile crystal.
“Consider yourself RSVP’d for three. Now, go teach Sheldon before he explodes with excitement.”
“The Brady O’Neil Experience coming to him,” he said slowly.
I’d had my own Brady O’Neil Experience the day before, and it had haunted my dreams last night. I flushed at the memory. He saw the flush and winked at me before turning and sauntering into the practice room.
???
Two hours later, Brady joined me downstairs at the register after taunting, teasing, and flirting harmlessly with his last student and her father as they’d left the store. It had been one of the busiest mornings the store had seen in months.
The spring weather had brought out the locals and the tourists alike. The apple blossoms starting to bloom always did it. People journeying to take pictures and mosey down the town’s quaint Main Street. I hadn’t appreciated it when I’d started spending a few weeks each summer with Grams, the enchantment of the town, but now I felt like I was living in a postcard sometimes.
Brady sat on the stool behind the counter. Grams had used it a lot after the heart attack unless Hannah was perched on it. It seemed odd to have him there, and yet, he also seemed to fit. Every time I was around him, it was a peculiar dichotomy of emotions, memories, and thoughts that didn’t belong together.
“You’ve avoided the conversation for an entire day. What’s up with William Chan and you? Is it still the festival?”
I shook my head. I’d allowed myself to put the entire conversation out of my brain for twenty-four hours. Looking through the bank accounts wasn’t going to change anything. I couldn’t pay off the loan. Even if I used the house as collateral, I had no way of proving that the store?or my art?would bring in enough money to continue to make the payments.
