Jamie had been different. When they’d been together he’d made her feel as though she mattered, because he’d focused solely on her. They’d gone out for pizza and caught a couple of movies that summer. Nothing major, because they’d both known he’d be returning to Juilliard in the fall. Well, except for some heavy necking. What would’ve happened between them if he hadn’t been returning to New York? If their plans hadn’t been so different? Would she still have gotten back together with Tucker? She shook her head. What good did wondering do? It wasn’t as if she could change the past.
“You could have asked me that on the phone, Grandpa. If you had, it would’ve saved me a trip over here, and I could’ve had breakfast.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t eaten?” Her grandfather strode to the refrigerator and grabbed what she recognized as the ingredients for her favorite breakfast—an omelet with spinach, mushrooms and Roma tomatoes.
“Feeding me won’t get you what you want. I can’t pick Jamie up at the airport. I’ve got a volunteer orientation and training all day.”
“That’s not a problem. His flight doesn’t get in until eight tonight,” Grandpa G said as he threw together her omelet and poured the egg mixture into a hot pan.
So much for the convenient excuse. “Can’t Jamie rent a car?”
“He’s from New York City. Who knows if he can drive?”
There were people in the U.S. who couldn’t drive? Really? She found that hard to believe. She thought about the summer she and Jamie had dated. “Wait a minute. I remember him driving Mick’s truck on a couple of our dates.”
“Oh, well. Hmm. I forgot about that.” Her grandfather shuffled back and forth, his brows furrowed together in thought as he concentrated on the pan in front of him. Then he plated her omelet and handed the mouthwatering goodness to her along with a fork. “Of course, that was before he spent all those years in the Big Apple. Who knows if he still has a valid driver’s license?”
“You can’t be serious.” She scooped up a bite of her omelet. The fluffy concoction melted in her mouth. No matter how many times she tried, hers never turned out like Grandpa G’s, but she wouldn’t let his wonderful cooking sway her.
“All I know is that Mick asked me to ask you to pick up Jamie at the airport, and that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult.”
She was being difficult? She didn’t know what alien had taken over her grandfather’s body, but there was no reasoning with him today. “With as much family as we have in town there has to be someone else who can pick him up.”
Grandpa G placed the knife on the cutting board, turned and stared at her. He waved his hand around the kitchen. “Does it look like I have time to call around to find someone else to do this for me?”
Line cooks, dishwashers and everyone else in the kitchen froze, turned and stared with their mouths hanging open in disbelief at her grandfather’s sharp tone.
Now she knew something was wrong. Either that or he’d taken cranky pills along with his vitamins this morning. In her entire life she never remembered him raising his voice to anyone. She stepped around the counter and placed her hand on his arm. “What’s really going on?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, and when he met her gaze, weariness filled his usually bright eyes. “I’m nervous about handling everything around here with Mick out today.”
Things were growing stranger by the minute. Her grandfather routinely managed the restaurant when Mick was gone without breaking a sweat. He’d once told her that after a tour in Vietnam, he’d handled the worst life had to throw at him and nothing else could ever come close.
“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”
“Emma Jean, with a J, unlike my name, Gene with a G, Donovan. Do this little favor for me. Pick Jamie up at the airport. Then I won’t have to worry about it.”
How could she say no to that, especially after he’d pulled out the big guns by making her favorite breakfast and using her full name, emphasizing the fact that she’d been named after him? The question was why was this so important? Instinct told her she wasn’t getting the whole story.
“I’ll make a deal,” she conceded. “I’ll call around. If I can’t find someone else to pick Jamie up, I will.”
Her grandfather yanked the towel off his apron and swiped the cloth almost frantically across the counter, clearing away the remnants of mushrooms and spinach he’d chopped for her omelet. “You promise you’ll pick Jamie up if no one else can?”
She nodded, and his rigid stance relaxed. “I heard about Molly quitting the band. Are you having any luck finding a replacement?”
The abrupt change in conversation left her a little dizzy. While he supported her musical career more than most of her family, she could count the number of times on one hand her grandfather had asked about the business side of things. “I’ve got some possibilities, but I’ve been so busy with my day job I haven’t had time to contact anyone.”
Luke, her bass player, had offered to make the calls, but Emma had gently nixed the suggestion. She’d put Maroon Peak Pass together. She managed their engagements, wrote their music and created their arrangements of other artists’ songs. No way was anyone being scheduled to audition without her screening him first.
“You know Jamie’s a fiddle player,” her grandfather said. “What about asking him to play with you?”
“There’s a big difference between playing in a country band and performing with a symphony. Asking Jamie to join Maroon Peak Pass would be like asking a soccer player to all of a sudden play football.” As if Jamie would be interested anyway. Had her grandfather lost his mind?
“Soccer players often become kickers in football.”
Vitamins. Check. Cranky pills. Check. Add taking crazy pills to the list.
“I was just throwing the idea out there.”
“That’s something to consider.” But only if it was between canceling the band’s upcoming engagements, asking Jamie or recruiting someone from the high school orchestra.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT Emma arrived at the Denver airport only to discover Jamie’s flight had been delayed by bad weather. She’d tried to find someone else to pick him up, but she should’ve known how that plan would turn out and saved the time she’d wasted. Why was it whenever she needed help everyone in her family had a ready excuse? Brandon had to work at the fire station, but he was the only one with a valid reason. Everyone else either had plans like getting together with friends, or worse, they hadn’t bothered to return her call.
At least she’d brought her tablet so she could work while she waited. As she sat in the unyielding chairs in the baggage claim area, she put out word on social media about the band’s situation. That done, she contacted the electric fiddle players she’d thought of, managing to coerce two to audition. She called the people Luke and Grayson, their drummer, had recommended, screened them and set up auditions for a couple, despite the fact that none of the candidates seemed overly promising. The kids in the high school orchestra were looking better all the time.
