her hands on the table, she smiled at the girls. “Hello. I’m Jessica, Zane’s sister-in-law.” The girls seemed baffled when she shook both of their hands. “We were having a little family talk, and we’re limited on time. Otherwise I’m sure Zane would love to speak to you. If you give me your names and addresses, I’ll see that you get a signed CD of his latest album. And please be discreet when you leave here,” she whispered. “Zane loves meeting his fans, but we really need a few private moments during our meal tonight.”
“Oh, okay. Sure,” one of them said congenially.
The other girl wrote their addresses on the napkin Jessica provided before she wished them well. Giggling quietly, the two women walked away.
Zane stared at Jessica. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ve been listening to how Mariah deals with your fan club members. I hope it’s okay that I offered them a CD.”
“It’s fine. Happens all the time. I wish I’d have thought of it myself.”
“They were persistent.”
Zane shook his head. “I could tell you stories.” But he wouldn’t. Some of the things that had happened to him while touring on the road weren’t worth repeating. “Actually, these two were a little subtle compared with some of the people who approach me.”
“You mean, compared with the women who approach you.”
He scrubbed his chin, his fingers brushing over prickly stubble. “I suppose.”
Jessica snorted. “You don’t have to be modest on my account. I know you’re in demand.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “In demand? What are you getting at?”
“You’re single, available, successful and handsome. Those two women who left here would probably describe you as a hottie, a hunk, a heartthrob and a hero. You’re in the 4-H club of men.”
His smile broadened. “The 4-H club of men? You just made that up.”
“Maybe,” she said, taking a big scoop of guacamole and downing the chip in one big swallow. “Maybe not.”
“You constantly surprise me,” he said, sipping water. He could use something stronger. “I like that about you.”
“And I like that you’re decent to folks who admire you.”
Their eyes met, and something warm zipped through his gut. Jessica’s compliments meant more to him than ten thousand wide-eyed, giddy fans. He admired her, too. “Ah, shucks, ma’am. Now you’re gonna make me blush.”
Another unladylike snort escaped through her mouth. Zane grinned and leaned way back in his seat just as his cell phone rang. Dang, he didn’t want to speak to anyone now, but only a few close friends and family knew his number. He fished the phone out of his pocket. “It’s Mariah,” he said to Jessica. He turned his wrist to glance at his watch. It was after eight. “That’s odd. She usually texts me if she needs me for something after hours. Excuse me a second.”
“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Zane, s-something terrible’s h-happened.” Sobs came through the phone, Mariah’s voice frantic and unsteady. Zane froze, those words instilling fear and flashing a bad memory. “My mother had a stroke. It’s pretty b-bad.”
“Oh, man. Sorry to hear that, Mariah.”
“I have to fly home right away. Th-they don’t know...oh, Zane...she’s so young. Only sixty-four. She never had health problems before. Oh, God.”
“Mariah, you just do what you have to do. Don’t worry about a thing.” Her voice broke down, her sobs growing louder. “Where are you?”
“At Patty’s h-house in Santa Monica.” She shared a place temporarily with an old college roommate. The situation was perfect while he was staying on Moonlight Beach. She was close by without living under his roof.
“Pack up a few things and try to stay calm. Do you have a flight?”
“Patty got me on a midnight flight to Miami.”
“Okay...I’ll send a car for you in an hour. Hang in there, Mariah.”
“It’s okay, Zane. I a-appreciate it, but Patty offered to d-drive me. I’ll be fine.” A deep, sorrowful sigh whispered through the phone. “Are you going to be all right? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He stared at Jessica. Her eyes were softly sympathetic and kind. “Take all the time you need. And call if there’s any way I can help, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks. Goodbye, Zane.”
Zane hung up the phone. “Man, that’s rough. Mariah’s mother had a stroke. She’s on her way to Florida now.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it serious?”
“Seems that way.” He ran a hand down his face, pulling the skin taut. “I’ve never heard her so unraveled before. She may be gone a long time.”
“I would think so. Will you find a replacement for her?”
Zane wasn’t thinking along those lines. Not yet. He kept hearing the disbelief and pain in Mariah’s voice and understood it all too well.
Your wife didn’t make it, Zane.
Didn’t make what? he’d asked the doctor over and over, screaming into the phone. Then, all the way home from London, he kept thinking, hoping, praying it had been a mistake. A horrible, sick mistake. It wasn’t until he saw the desolate ruins of his once proud home in Beckon that it finally sank in Janie was gone. Forever.
The meal was served, and as his gaze landed on the plate of saucy cheese-topped tamales, blood drained from his face, and his gut rebelled. For Jessica’s sake, he pushed his haunting memories aside. He didn’t want to ruin her meal.
Jessica reached for him across the table, her fingertips feathering over his good hand gently, comforting him with the slightest touch. When he lifted his lids, he gazed into her knowing, sensitive eyes, and she smiled. “Let’s have them pack up this food. We’ll eat it later on.”
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all. I’m ready to go anytime you are.”
He felt at peace suddenly, a glowing warmth usurping the dread inside his gut.
And then it hit him. Sweet Jess. She was good for him. She understood him, perhaps better than anyone else on this earth. She was a true friend, an authentic reminder of home, and he needed her here.
“You asked me before if I’d find a replacement for Mariah.”
“Yes, I did. Hard shoes to fill, I would imagine.”
“Yeah, I agree.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Except I’ve already found someone, and I’m looking straight at her.”
