Chapter 1

Harbor Cross Nursing Home

August 21

4:00 p.m.

Rachel Adams’ typical music class didn’t have white hair, faded eyes or use walkers to get around. They were pint size individuals, whose attention spans lasted … maybe ten minutes. It was an entirely different experience than playing for the residents of the nursing home. There was something about the looks on their faces that gave her pride. A feeling that had been in short supply the past couple of years.

“That’s all we have time for today. Does anyone have any suggestions for next time?”

“Close to You,” one person shouted.

“I’m a Believer,” another offered.

“I’ll look into those,” Rachel promised.

“Let’s all thank Rachel for coming today,” Angela, the Activities Director, told the room.

When the group clapped, the butterflies in Rachel’s stomach flipped several times. She loved to sing and enjoyed performing. However, having the attention solely focused on her still caused her nerves to kick up several notches. Just not as much as when she was singing with Tyler and his brown eyes were locked on her. Then, her heart rate kicked up for other reasons.

While the nurse’s aides were passing out an afternoon snack, Rachel collected her instruments. She crammed her sheet music into her folder and then packed it all into her collapsible beach wagon. When she turned around to say something to Angela, her eyes met those of one of the residents, Evelyn Gates.

“Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Gates?” she asked, noticing how pale the other woman had become.

“I, I’m fine,” Evelyn murmured. “I thought I heard something …”

“You thought you heard something?” Rachel prompted.

“Never mind,” Evelyn brushed it off.

“Are you sure?”

“I must have been mistaken. You have a nice day.”

When Evelyn turned away, Rachel felt as if she’d just walked into the middle of a movie and had missed part of the plot. She thought about pushing the issue, but another quick peek showed the older woman looked fine. It was time for her to leave anyway.

Angela met her right outside the door. “Thank you again for doing this, Rach. I hear the residents humming the songs for days afterward.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course.”

“I knew that.” Rachel mentally regrouped. “I’m enjoying myself too.”

Angela grinned. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am,” Rachel replied with a sheepish smile. “I hate to admit that while Harper volunteered here when we were growing up, I never did. There was something about …”

“Facing mortality,” Angela offered quietly.

“Maybe,” Rachel hummed. “Anyway, I was wrong. The residents are a lot of fun. And to be honest, it’s actually a nice change of pace.”

“How so?”

“The classes that I teach are toddler and preschool age, and well … when I come here, I don’t have to stand on my head to keep their attention.”

Angela chuckled. “I can see how this would be quite different. Anyway, thank you again. We’ll see you next week.”

Rachel waved and, once more, started toward the front door. She’d just rounded the last corner when someone stepped in front of her and blocked her path.  

“If it isn’t little Rachel,” a mocking voice purred in response to her petite stature.

Her lips curved into a smile. Slowly she allowed her gaze to track up Devin Hall’s body, before meeting his blue-eyes. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Hottie.”

He lifted one black brow, in a must you manner, making her want to double down. Instead, she rolled her eyes. Devin had been her first crush and was very nice to look at. However, since he was the cousin of one of her best friend’s, she’d never pursued him.

“You missed my music class,” she teased. “It’s Wednesdays at 3:00 p.m.”

“Sorry,” Devin shrugged. “I had patients to see.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Rachel clucked. “But I forgive you … this time.”

“That’s big of you.” He nodded toward her wagon. “Do you need some help?”

Rachel glanced back at her stuff and thought about playing the helpless female, especially since she didn’t do that very often. “I’ve got it handled,” she ended up saying. “See you later, Devin.”

Something told her he continued to watch her until she was out of his sight. Why, she wasn’t sure. But, in a way, it gave her a little thrill to be noticed by a handsome man. Just not as much as when Tyler paid attention to her. She just wished ….

“I heard today was a rousing success,” Sandy greeted her at the front desk. “Will you be back next week?”

“I will. See you then.” When Rachel pushed through the doors, she was surprised to find Harper Taylor, one of her best friends’ and Devin’s cousin, waiting for her.

“Did I forget something?” she frowned. “Were we supposed to check another item off your wedding planning list?”

“No,” Harper murmured. “I just dropped off cookies from my grandmother.”

“Did you save some for me?” Rachel asked hopefully. “I’ll take white chunk macadamia, chocolate chip, or peanut butter … I’m not picky.”

Harper held up a small baggie with three cookies inside. “One for you, one for Riley and one for …”

“Me!”

“Is there a story there?” Harper raised a brow in question.

“No, no story,” Rachel sighed. “Everything is fine.”

Although was that true? Hadn’t she noticed just a subtle shift in the way he’d been treating her?

Thankfully, Harper didn’t pursue that topic. She held up her phone. “Did you listen to Eden’s message?”

“Not yet. Why?” Rachel fished her phone out of her pocket. “Is everything okay?”

“I think so,” Harper stretched out the three words. “See what you think.”

She pulled up her voicemail and Eden’s message.

“Rach, it’s Eden. Quinn and I are going to go away for several days before school starts. I’ll call when we get back.”

With everything that had been going on in Eden’s life over the last few months, Rachel had gotten used to her friend’s short messages. But there was something off with this one.

“What’s she not saying?” she asked Harper. “Any ideas?”

“What do you mean, what’s she not saying?” Harper frowned.

“Did you know about this before you got your message?”

“How?”

“Well, hello,” Rachel grumbled. “You’re engaged to Quinn’s brother.”

“Oh,” a Cheshire cat smile crossed Harper’s face, “that.”

“Meaning?”

“I was at Aiden’s apartment, and Quinn came by to pick up some clothes.”

“Did you ask him where he was taking Eden?” Rachel tossed out. “Or what his intentions were toward our friend? We don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“Of course, I asked,” Harper grunted. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“He wouldn’t tell you?”

“No,” Harper hesitated for a beat, “he wouldn’t. But there was a look on his face …”

“Sally’s for some thinking food?” Rachel suggested. “I don’t have to pick up Riley for a couple of hours.”

“Sally’s or Two Scoops?” Harper frowned. “I’m not sure which sounds better.”

Rachel dropped down onto the bench next to Harper and helped herself to one of the cookies. Who knew how long it would take for her friend to make up her mind, and she needed the kick the sugar would offer.

                                                                              ***

Sally’s Diner

August 21

4:15 p.m.

Tyler stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of Sally’s and veered around the bikini-clad women, who were blocking the entrance.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he drawled.

“Oh!” the one on his right exclaimed. “Aren’t you …?”

“Tyler James,” they squealed in unison. “Can we have your autograph, please?”

Once upon a time, he’d relished those moments when he’d been recognized. But that was long ago and in another life.

“Sure,” he glanced back and forth between the women, “I don’t have anything to —”

“Here.” The first one who’d recognized him shoved a Swan Harbor map toward him. Then another handed him a pen.

Tyler played the part expected of him for the next few minutes. He even posed for pictures. When he walked into Sally’s, he was tempted to duck into the men’s room for a breather. Then he happened to meet Sally’s sympathetic eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he grinned. “I just needed a break from paperwork.”

“Oh, I get that,” Sally sighed. “It’s one of the parts about owning a business that sucks.”

“Agreed.”

“Are you here for dinner or …?”

“A root beer float,” he tossed out, asking for something he’d not ordered before, nor had he seen on the menu.

“A root beer float?” Sally repeated. “Invented by the gold miner, Frank J. Wisner, in 1893, right?”

“Well,” Tyler stretched out the word, “I’ve heard that. But I believe the real inventor was Robert McCay Green, on a hot August day in Philadelphia in 1874.”

“Are you saying you’re celebrating root beer float month?”

“I am.” He frowned. “Do you know how to make them?”

Sally’s blue eyes twinkled. “Just watch me.”

While he waited for her, Tyler stretched out one leg and leaned back against the wall. The diner was relatively quiet, which was nice. But it had been quiet at the club. They didn’t open until 5:00 p.m., and his daughter, Bethany, was spending time with her friend Abigail. Was that the problem? Did the quiet give him too much time to think.

“Here you are.” With a flourish, Sally placed the root beer float in front of him. Then she sent him an, I dare you to not like it look.

“It looks like a root beer float.” Tyler tapped the edge of the old-fashioned soda fountain glass. Then he leaned forward and took a whiff of the ice cream confection. “It smells like a root beer float.”

“And?” Sally prompted.

He took a sip of the drink that was made with root beer and vanilla ice cream. It reminded him of summers when he’d been a kid. “It’s perfect, Sally. Nice job.”

Sally preened. “You’re welcome.”

She turned away just as his friend, Ben Matthews, walked in. He said something to her, then slid into the booth.

“Why are you moping?” Ben questioned.

“Moping?” Tyler hummed. “Why would you say that?”

Ben shrugged. “Must be my attorney ESP.” He quieted long enough for Sally to set another root beer float on the table. When he took a drink, something told Tyler it hadn’t been what he’d expected. “What is this sh—?”

“It’s what you ordered, Ben Matthews,” Sally retorted. “Behave and watch your mouth. There are children present.”

“Sorry, Sally,” Ben grinned. “I guess I was expecting something else.”

“Do you want me to bring you another drink?” The look she gave Ben had Tyler wanting to laugh. But he was afraid if he did, he’d be on the receiving end of her temper.

“Nah, I’m good,” Ben grumbled. He hesitated until she was out of earshot and leaned forward. “Now, tell me what this is.”

“It’s summer and childhood memories,” Tyler murmured. “Why?”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “Root beer isn’t my favorite, but I guess I can tolerate it.”

“Then why did you order it?”

Ben shrugged. “It looked good.”

“It is good,” Tyler replied.

“Says you,” Ben grumbled. “Now, tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.”

A smirk crossed Ben’s face. “Oh, so that’s it. You need to get laid.”

Tyler was used to Ben’s forthright ways — mostly. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t glad he’d swallowed before the comment had been made.

“What about Rachel?” Ben went on. “I thought you two were …?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“We’re friends,” Tyler jumped in. “We’re partners—“

“Oh?”

“In music,” Tyler finished.

“It really sounds like you need to get laid,” Ben decided. “Lilly and I are going to Blackbeard’s on Saturday. Why don’t you go with us?”

~ to be continued in Chapter 1