the Dunbar? Oh yeah I do.”
Criminy. Was he going to hold her hand as they crossed the street to reach the bus stop too?
“TJ, this is ridiculous. I’m nineteen years old. Dad used to let us go out all the—”
He lashed back with a fistful of words. “Well, Dad’s gone, and I’m not him. You don’t like the deal, you can stay home.”
Stunned, Maddie stared at him. He’d spoken the word gone as though their father had died along with their mother.
Jo waved her hands, shooing away the tension. “So it’s settled. We’ll all go together.” Maddie widened her eyes as Jo continued, “And hey, while he’s eating, you’ll have time to drop off your neighbor’s letter. The one the postman delivered by accident.”
The letter …?
Confusion quickly gave way to disappointment. Maddie now had an excuse to sneak out, but only to cancel rather than delay her date with Lane. She hated the prospect of missing one of his rare visits from school.
On the upside, in two weeks he would be back for winter break, offering more opportunities for quality time together.
“Fine, then,” she snipped at her brother. “Come if you want.”
What other choice did she have?
While Jo bombarded TJ with questions about the World Series, Maddie strode down the hall. Her urge to sprint mounted as she recalled the time. She made it as far as the bottom step when the doorbell rang.
Oh, God.
“I’ll get it!” She rushed to the entry. Hoping to prevent the disaster from worsening, she opened the door only halfway. Yet at the greeting of Lane’s perfect white smile, all her worries evaporated like mist. The warm glow of the portico light caressed his short black hair and olive skin. Shadows swooped softly from his high cheekbones. His almond-shaped eyes, inherited from his Japanese ancestors, shone with the same deep brown that had reached out and captured her heart the first time he’d held her last spring, an innocent embrace that had spiraled into more.
“Hi, Maddie,” he said, and handed her a bouquet of lavender lilies. Their aroma was divine, nearly hypnotic, just like his voice.
But then footsteps on the stairs behind her sobered her senses.
“You have to go,” was all she got out before TJ called to him.
“Tomo!” It was the nickname he’d given Lane Moritomo when they were kids. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
The startle in Lane’s eyes deftly vanished as his best friend approached.
Maddie edged herself aside. Her heart thudded in the drum of her chest as she watched Lane greet him with a swift hug. A genuine grin lit TJ’s face, a rare glimpse of the brother she missed.
“I’m only in till tomorrow,” Lane told him. “Then it’s straight back for classes.” Though several inches shorter than TJ, he emitted a power in his presence, highlighted by his tailored black suit.
“Term’s almost over,” TJ remarked. “What brought you back?”
“There was a funeral this afternoon. Had to go with my family.”
Surprisingly, TJ’s expression didn’t tense at the grim topic. Then again, Lane always did have the ability—even after the accident—to settle him when no one else could. “Anyone I know?”
“No, no. Just the old geezer who ran the bank before my dad. Came away with some nice flowers at least.” Lane gestured to the lilies Maddie had forgotten were in her grip. “Priest said they didn’t have space for them all.”
TJ brushed over the gift with a mere glance. “I was gonna take the girls to some jazz joint. Any chance you wanna come?”
“Sure. I’d love to,” he said, not catching the objection in Maddie’s face.
Her gaze darted to the top of the staircase, seeking help. There, she found Jo leaning against the rail with a look that said, Ah, well, things could be worse.
And she was right. Before the night was over, things could get much, much worse.
Cigarette smoke at the Dunbar swirled, adding to the fog of Lane’s thoughts. Since arriving, he had been struggling to keep his focus on the Negroes playing riffs onstage. Now, with TJ off fetching drinks, he could finally allow his eyes to settle on the profile of Maddie, seated across from him. Her jasmine perfume, while subtle, somehow transcended the wafts of beer and sweat in the teeming club.
From above the bar, blue lights danced over the crowd united in music and laughter—racially integrated, as the entire world would be when Lane was done with it—and rippled shadows across Maddie’s face. The narrow slope of her nose led to full lips, moist with a red sheen. Her hazel eyes studied the musicians with such intensity that he chose to merely watch her.
Amazing that he’d known her for more than half his life, yet only months ago had he truly begun to see her. The ache to touch her swelled, along with a desire to make up for lost time. He reached over and brushed the back of her creamy hand resting on their cocktail table.
She jolted, her trance broken. “Sorry,” she said, and returned his smile.
“Pretty good, isn’t he?” Lane indicated the saxophonist. The long, haunting notes of “Summertime” made the guy’s talent obvious even to Lane.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No, I do. It’s just—the structure’s so loose, with all those slurs, and the downbeat going in and out. Plus, the key changes are too quick to feel grounded. And during the chorus, his timing keeps—” She broke off, her nose crinkling in embarrassment. “Gosh, listen to me. I sound like a royal snob, don’t I?”
“Not at all.”
She exaggerated a squint. “Liar.”
They both laughed. In truth, he could listen to her talk forever. “God, I’ve missed you,” he said to her.
“I’ve missed you too.” The sincerity in her voice was so deep, he could lose himself in that sound for days. But a moment later, she glanced around as if abruptly aware of the surrounding spectators, and her glimmering eyes dulled, turned solid as her defenses. She slid her hand away, sending a pang down his side.
He told himself not to read into it, that her aversion to a public show of affection wasn’t a matter of race. She was simply fearful of jeopardizing her relationship with her brother. Understandable, after all she had been through.
“So,” she said. “Where did Jo go?”
“To the ladies’ room.”
“Oh.”
