| |
“THERE YOU ARE, LINDY. Just the person we want to see.”
Lindy glanced up from the piano bench where she’d been sorting sheet music to see the Wakefield sisters approaching her as rapidly as they could in the rhinestone-studded cowboy boots they each wore. She concealed her amusement as she eyed the lavish display of western attire heading in her direction.
The Wakefield sisters, both in their early seventies, were well known for their little eccentricities. Personally, Lindy preferred not to think of the women as eccentric but more like ‘young at heart.’ She’d known them for most of her life. Since she’d started playing the piano at Sunrise Assisted Living Home four years ago, she’d come to know and appreciate the sisters even more. They volunteered a good amount of their time at the facility, and they were favorites among the staff and residents.
Josephine, the eldest sister—affectionately referred to as Jo—was the first to reach the piano. Her calf-length black denim skirt swished around her legs; silver and turquoise jewelry jingled on her wrists and dangled from her ears. Bertha, called Bert for short, came to a halt beside her sister. Her attire was like Jo’s, but she’d added a rhinestone-embellished black cowboy hat to her ensemble. It perched jauntily on her short, silvery curls.
“We don’t have a lot of time for chitchat,” Jo said. “Bert and I have a country-western dance class at the community center in an hour.”
“But we just had to speak with you today, Lindy,” Bert added. “We need your help with a plan of ours.”
Lindy bowed her head and continued to sort through the sheet music while hiding a skeptical smile. What were the sisters up to now? She’d been wrangled into a few of their crazy schemes before. She’d learned to keep her mouth shut whenever the sisters began their plotting. Usually, they would start bickering with each other, eventually forgetting what it was they’d been discussing in the first place.
“Do you have time for a cup of coffee, Lindy?” Jo asked.
“Do you?” Lindy replied with a grin. “You don’t want to miss your dance class. It’ll take at least twenty minutes to get to the community center from here.”
“Oh, piffle.” Jo waved her hand dismissively. “We have a few minutes to spare.”
“And this is very important,” Bert confided, her sweet, wrinkled face comically solemn.
Lindy took a mental glance at her schedule for the rest of the day. Her first piano lesson was at three o’clock. She’d planned to do some heavy housecleaning until then; she’d invited her brother, Joe, over for dinner tomorrow night. But she could spare time for the Wakefield sisters. She had to admit she was a little curious.
“All right,” she said, closing the lid on the piano bench and gathering up her purse and the canvas bag containing her music books.
She cast a lingering glance around the sunny recreation lounge, making certain everything was back in order. Sometimes, when she played the “oldies,” the spryer residents would dance. And Will Benton, who was in his nineties, would sit close to the piano, thumping his cane on the floor in rhythm to the music. “Give us more of that jitterbug, Lindy,” he’d say in his papery voice. “They don’t make music like they used to.”
Now the room was empty and quiet. Lindy always felt drained and sometimes sad when her time with the residents ended. She’d watch as the staff assisted the less agile residents out of the room. She’d return the cheerful grins and friendly waves and occasionally wonder if any of the familiar faces she’d grown to love wouldn’t be there the next time she came to play the piano. Yet she’d learned to push those thoughts aside the instant she stepped out of the building and into the fresh air. Although it’d taken her a long time, she’d learned not to dwell for too long on unhappy thoughts. She understood, perhaps better than most, what it truly meant to be grateful for every day given to her.
Bert and Jo were bickering about the coffee. Should they go to the staff lounge? Or did they have time to visit that darling little bakery downtown that made those delicious muffins? Lindy settled their dilemma by walking ahead of the pair and leading them to the staff lounge while they were both too busy squabbling to notice. After setting her things on a round pine table, she proceeded to the coffee vending machine and filled three paper cups.
The sisters had seated themselves at the table when she returned. They were whispering to each other but stopped when Lindy sat down. A thread of wariness put a cautious expression on her face. She’d seen those matching, conspiratorial looks before.
Jo, always the sister in charge, smiled sweetly as Lindy handed her a cup. “You don’t need to look so worried, Lindy. This isn’t a bad thing.”
“Now you have me even more curious” Lindy said. She laced her coffee with a heavy dose of sweetener and cream, bracing herself before taking a sip. She wrinkled her nose; she should’ve urged the sisters to go to that bakery.
Bert stirred her coffee with a plastic spoon. She threw her sister a hesitant glance. Jo nodded her encouragement. “It’s our nephew,” Bert said at last.
Lindy raised her eyebrows. “You have a nephew?”
“Yes,” Jo said. “Our brother Derek’s son. Did you ever meet Derek? He passed away five years ago.”
Lindy searched her memory. “Not that I recall. He owned a lot of property, didn’t he? And the hardware store?”
Three or four of the old iron-front buildings in downtown King’s Valley were emblazoned with the Wakefield name. And Wakefield Hardware still stood at the same corner it had occupied since the mid-1800s.
“That’s right,” Jo said. “Everything went to Devin—our nephew—when our brother died.”
“Devin’s mother, Moira, died when Devin was born,” Bert said. “Poor thing. She really shouldn’t have had a child at her age. She was forty-three when Devin was born.”
“Women have children at that age all the time,” Jo said. “But Moira was in poor health to begin with.”
“Derek swore he’d be a bachelor all his life,” Bert said musingly. “Remember how shocked we were when he announced his engagement, Jo? Moira was forty. And Derek was sixty-five!”
“He really did love her,” Jo said. “And age has nothing to do with it.”
“That’s true,” her sister replied, her soft, brown eyes taking on a faraway expression.
Not for the first time, Lindy wondered why neither woman had ever married. They still carried about them an ageless grace and beauty. They must’ve been stunning in their younger years. “You will be late for dance class, ladies,” she reminded them after a moment. “And you still haven’t told me what help you need from me.”
“I’m sorry, dear,” Jo said. “We got sidetracked. Now... Where were we?”
Lindy’s mouth curled with amusement. “Something about your nephew?”
“Oh, right.” Jo’s face brightened before clouding with bewilderment. “I’m surprised you haven’t met him. He’s been back in town three months now. He set up his office at the hardware store.”
“He has to keep an eye on things and clean up the mess,” Bert said, leaning closer to Lindy to add in a hushed voice, “Because of the embezzler.”
“Shush, Bert!” Jo nudged her sister in a vain attempt to stop her words.
“You shush,” Bert retorted. “Lindy needs to know this.” She returned her gaze to Lindy. “Devin wouldn’t be back in town at all if that man managing the hardware store hadn’t started stealing from us. Devin swore he wouldn’t have anything to do with Derek’s business concerns. We had to beg him to come back to King’s Valley. He left here when he was eighteen.”
“That was fourteen years ago.” Jo sighed.
Lindy hesitated. It really wasn’t any of her business, but she had to ask. “He didn’t come to his father’s funeral?”
“Just for two days.” Jo shook her head. “We tried to convince him to stay, especially since his father left everything to him.”
“Devin had his own business to run,” Bert reminded her sister, not wanting to cast her nephew in a poor light.
“But everything’s been in a kind of limbo for the last five years,” Jo said in a confiding voice. “The details of the will are complicated. But Devin couldn’t just sell everything off and wash his hands of the Wakefield legacy. Derek’s attorney was acting as proxy—”
“The fool,” Bert interjected. “He’s the one who hired that con artist to manage the hardware store.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Lawyers.”
Lindy wouldn’t be telling the truth if she said all of this didn’t intrigue her. Based on what she’d heard so far, she didn’t have much respect for the nephew. If she read between the lines, it sounded like he’d been cold-hearted and irresponsible, carelessly handing the reins of his father’s company to someone who probably had too many other things on his plate to manage it properly, and causing his dear, sweet aunts unnecessary worry.
“So,” she said, keeping her voice light. “Your nephew is here to stay now?”
The sisters sighed in unison.
“No,” Bert said. “He said he’s only here to fix the mess and to hire a reliable manager.”
“But he’s said nothing about leaving,” Jo said with a hopeful air.
“That’s where you come in, Lindy,” Bert said.
Lindy’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “How so?”
Bert leaned across the table and touched Lindy’s arm. “Once you meet him, you’ll agree it’s a fantastic idea.”
Lindy set down her coffee and shook her finger at both women. “Oh, no. No, no, no! Don’t tell me you two are trying to fix me up with a man again. Because if that’s what this is about, I’m leaving. You’d assume after the last time you tried this, you’d both learned a lesson.”
Bert’s face flushed with guilt. “Now, Lindy. We had no idea Howard was that sort of man.”
“He was a lecher.” Jo’s mouth tightened with remembered ire. “And he ruined my best frying pan!”
Lindy didn’t bother hiding her exasperation as she recalled the disastrous evening almost a year ago. The Wakefield sisters had invited her over for what they’d called a dinner party. It happened there was only one other guest in attendance. And he had a nasty habit of fondling Lindy’s knee beneath the table. Later, when Lindy was helping Bert wash the dishes, Howard sneaked up behind Lindy and grabbed her bottom. Before Lindy could smack him, Jo, who witnessed the incident, went after him with a frying pan, eventually flinging it at him. Unfortunately, it missed and hit the wall instead, snapping the handle clean off. They all shared a good laugh after Howard escaped from the house. Lindy teased Jo about being more upset about the broken pan than that despicable rat’s behavior.
“Anyway,” Jo said now, “you’ve got it all wrong. We’re not trying to set you up with our nephew.”
“Oh, but he is very good-looking, Lindy,” Bert said. “Tall, dark and handsome. And he has his mother’s eyes. Moira had the most beautiful eyes.”
Jo shot her sister an impatient glance. “Lindy doesn’t have all day, Bertha. Let’s get to the point. Or, like Sam says, cut to the chase.” She returned her gaze to Lindy and smiled appealingly. “Sam’s the one we really need to discuss. We want you to give him piano lessons.”
“Who’s Sam?” Lindy was becoming more confused by the second, not an unusual state when she was with the Wakefield sisters.
“Sam is Devin’s son,” Bert said. “Well, not for real. Devin’s never married. But we think of Sam that way.”
Jo took charge. “What my sister is trying to say is our nephew is Sam’s legal guardian. Sam’s parents were killed last year in a boating accident. Tim Lawrence, Sam’s father, was Devin’s best friend and business partner.”
“That’s horrible,” Lindy said, experiencing a stir of sympathy for the man she’d decided she didn’t like very much.
“Yes,” Bert said. “Devin told us it’d been just a formality when they expanded their business, and Tim was setting up his will. Neither one ever imagined Tim would die so young.”
“Neither Tim nor his wife had any close relatives,” Jo said, her eyes tragic. “But a distant cousin appeared out of the blue and tried to contest the guardianship. Devin spent months fighting him and won the case. The cousin was after Sam’s money. Devin and Tim ran a very successful business.”
“What sort of business?” Lindy asked.
“A private boat charter company in Florida. Key West. And it all started with one boat.” Jo beamed. “We must have you over for dinner soon, and Devin can tell you all about it. It’s a fascinating story of hard work and determination, or, as he likes to say, sweat and toil.”
Upon hearing the pride in Jo’s voice, Lindy was now swaying towards giving the nephew the benefit of the doubt. She had to admire a man who would sacrifice his own independence to take on raising someone else’s child, and fighting for that right in a legal battle. “How old is Sam?” she asked.
Bert smiled. “He’s nine. And such a sweet boy. Causes no trouble. He stays at our house after school until Devin picks him up after work.” She shook her head. “That’s where we have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?”
Jo beat her sister to the reply. “The piano. He won’t stay away from it. After he’s done with his homework, he opens the lid and pounds on the keys.”
“But he doesn’t always pound, Jo,” Bert said in protest. She sent Lindy an earnest, appealing expression. “Sam invents little tunes sometimes and sings along. We think he has a good musical ear. He might even be gifted.”
“His mother played the violin,” Jo said.
“So, you’d like me to give him lessons.” Lindy smiled to herself. Although all the background information on Devin Wakefield and embezzlers and custody suits had been very interesting, the sisters could have easily skipped those details and simply asked her if she had space for another student. But the Wakefield sisters reveled in talking, especially gossip. Nothing harmful. Sometimes it could be very entertaining. “How does your nephew feel about your idea?”
Bert lowered her eyes. Jo looked vague. “We plan on telling him about it this afternoon. He won’t mind. He always does what’s best for Sam.”
“But he isn’t planning to stay in King’s Valley,” Lindy reminded them.
“This might change his mind,” Bert insisted. “Sam seems to have settled well into his new school, and he’s making friends. This can be one more thing to help establish some roots.”
“So, ultimately, this isn’t about piano lessons but making your nephew stay in King’s Valley.” Lindy shook her head. “I haven’t met him, but I don’t imagine he will enjoy being set up like this. I wouldn’t.”
Jo put on an affronted face. “Forget what my sister said. Naturally, we’d love for Devin to stay here for good, but Sam really is talented. I’d hate to see that talent wasted.”
Lindy sighed. She made a point of glancing at her watch and then pushed her chair away from the table. “Well, all right. If your nephew agrees to the lessons, please send him and Sam over to my place so we can meet each other and arrange a suitable lesson time. You two should hurry over to the community center, or you’ll be late.”
Both women beamed with satisfaction as they stood up from the table. “Thank you so much, Lindy,” Jo said. “Fingers crossed Devin agrees to the lessons. If he does, can they stop by this evening? We want Sam to get started as soon as possible.”
Lindy nodded. “Sure. I’ll be home tonight.”
Bert clasped her hands together. “Oh, it’ll be so wonderful to hear some pretty music coming from that piano again.” She smiled almost bashfully at Lindy. “I used to play quite well before my arthritis set in. When I was young, my mother said I had the makings of a concert pianist.”
Her sister’s eyes shot heavenward. “Concert pianist, my foot. You had all the dogs in the neighborhood howling.”
Bert pushed her cowboy hat more firmly down on her head. Her brown eyes flashed. “You were just jealous.”
“Well, I’ll see you two next week,” Lindy said with a cheerful voice. She collected the paper cups from the table and deposited them in the trash before leaving. She was certain the two women were oblivious to her hasty escape towards the exit; they were too preoccupied with their bickering.
***
LINDY SIGHED TIREDLY as she locked the door to her music studio and slipped the key into her skirt pocket. It’d been an exhausting afternoon. Today in particular, she’d heard every excuse under the sun why her students hadn’t been practicing. Her last student of the day, Mark Stanley, had invented a doozy. It seemed he’d spilled a bottle of glue on his hands and had spent the entire week scraping the glue off. And so, he hadn’t been able to practice. Which was really too bad since he was one of her more gifted students. And he also had a very vivid imagination.
Naturally, Lindy considered all her students special. Each of them possessed their own unique talent, and she was proud to expand their musical knowledge. The fact it was only the second week of the new school year might explain why so many of them were having trouble staying focused. The weather wasn’t helping. Who wanted to be indoors practicing during such glorious, warm late summer days?
She paused on the walkway between the studio and her house to breathe in the fragrant early evening air. A bee buzzed amid the bright red, orange and purple zinnia blossoms flowering alongside the little white picket fence separating her property from that of her neighbor, Mr. Atkinson.
Mr. Atkinson, eighty years old and sharp as a tack, was sitting on a bench in the middle of his vegetable garden, holding a water hose over his plants. He gave Lindy a friendly wave. “Would you mind taking Louie for a walk around the block tonight? My foot’s acting up again.”
“Sure,” she said. “But I might be a little late. I’m expecting someone to stop by.”
Mr. Atkinson winked at her. “A young man, eh?”
She shook her head in wry amusement. “No, Mr. Atkinson. Just someone who might be interested in taking piano lessons.”
“When are you going to get married, young lady?” He sounded exasperated. “You’re way too pretty to be an old maid.”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” She wagged her finger at him. “And you know what my answer is.”
“Yep,” the man said. “I’ll get married when the right man comes along.” He mimicked Lindy’s oft-repeated words to the letter.
He growled good naturedly at her back after she shot him a reproving glance before she turned towards the house. “If you’re looking for Mr. Right, Lindy Matthews, you might have to search forever, because he isn’t out there. Every man has a flaw or two. You must accept them. There’s no such thing as a knight in shining armor!”
“Yes, there is,” Lindy muttered to herself as she escaped into her house through the side door. “I had one once.”
After stepping into the kitchen, she switched on the gas burner beneath the tea kettle and then walked into the narrow, shelf-lined pantry. She stared blindly at the various food items. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry. Mr. Atkinson’s words echoed in her head like a pesky parrot. She realized he hadn’t intended to be insulting, but the words still hurt. Especially since he knew all about her history; he’d been living next door ever since she could remember.
“Old maid,” she muttered in a fuming tone. She guessed only people of his generation still used that derogatory term. It was becoming less and less uncommon for a woman to stay single these days. And there was nothing wrong with that. Look at the Wakefield sisters. They’d never married, and they seemed perfectly happy. And Lindy was happy, too. She was her own boss in a job she loved. Thanks to her mother, who’d deeded the house to her five years ago, Lindy was also doing well financially. She held complete control of her own life and the choices she made, which was an amazing accomplishment considering the trauma of that agonizing year in her teens when she imagined she’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
And yet so many people assumed she wasn’t happy and fulfilled, that she needed a husband, or her life would be empty. Well, there was a time when she would’ve agreed with them. That time when she was sixteen and deeply in love with a sweet, blue-eyed boy in the senior class. And he’d been in love with her. They’d talked about getting married right after she graduated high school. They’d planned to travel the world before settling down and raising a family. But a horrible accident shattered their dreams one devastating May night.
“Oh, Trevor,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her heart. She would not cry. She’d shed all her tears for that lost dream ten years ago.
But there was still some truth to Mr. Atkinson’s words. She acknowledged she’d been holding out for Mr. Right. That every guy she’d ever dated was compared to her memories of Trevor and found lacking. No, Trevor hadn’t been perfect. She recognized that now. And she realized it wasn’t right to compare every potential boyfriend to him. She had gotten better over the last few years. She’d tried to feel some kind of spark with the men she’d dated. Maybe there wasn’t any such thing as a Mr. Right, like her neighbor said. But she expected to feel something.
The whistling kettle yanked her out of her troubled thoughts. She grabbed the oatmeal carton and returned to the kitchen. A warm bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea suited her present mood.
As she sat at her kitchen table and gazed out the window into her small backyard, her thoughts drifted back to the incident at the regional park several days ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d allowed her thoughts to dwell on the handsome stranger. She wondered why she thought of him at all. She’d done her best to act polite towards him, and he’d brushed all of her attempts aside. Yet, the more she reflected on it, the more she grew convinced his anger had less to do with the bike accident and more to do with something else happening in his life. Perhaps that’s why her heart lurched with sympathy during that brief moment when their eyes locked and the world went still. He’d seemed like a little boy, frustrated and hurt, and she’d wanted to wrap him in her arms and comfort him. She also recollected his first concern after the collision had been for her welfare. He’d asked her if she was all right. That had been gentlemanly behavior. Too bad everything had deteriorated from that point.
She sighed as she reached for the teapot. This was the absolute last time she would allow him to infiltrate her thoughts. He’d given her the impression he didn’t live in King’s Valley, and he had no plans to return to the regional park. Doubtful she’d ever see him again.
She was sipping her tea when the doorbell chimed, sounding shrill in the silent house. After setting the steaming cup on the table, she stepped into the entryway. She saw two shadowy outlines through the decorative glass window beside the front door. One of them was tall.
Bert and Jo must’ve succeeded, she guessed as she approached the door. This must be Devin Wakefield and Sam Lawrence. Her sudden eagerness to meet them both caught her by surprise. After curving her lips into a welcoming smile, she opened the door.
The smile froze on her face.
Flint-grey eyes widened in shock before narrowing in icy scrutiny. “You!”