fire off a snappy comeback to put you in your place, but I’ll have to give you a rain check. The auditions have left me brain-dead.” She massaged her temples. “Add the rum. After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and we have two more auditions. I can use the liquid courage.”
“Do you always practice here?”
She shook her head. “Normally we use my dad’s garage, but the acoustics are better here, and for the auditions I wanted to get a better sense of how someone moves onstage. The garage is a little cramped for that.”
“Your band’s good. Your voice and guitar skills are phenomenal. What’re you doing playing local joints like this?”
When pain flashed in her eyes, he wanted to snatch the question back. Boy, he was on a roll. How could he have forgotten she’d made it clear yesterday that she didn’t want to discuss her career or what had brought her back to Estes Park? Now he’d done just that. So much for having better social skills than a Neanderthal.
“I ask myself that daily. Every time I think I’ve got a shot at making it big, something happens.”
“Like someone leaves the band.” At her raised eyebrows, he added, “Mick mentioned your violinist quit.”
“If it’s not something like that, then it’s life getting in the way.”
The defeat in her voice tugged at him, making him want to ease whatever weighed on her. Get over it. You’ve got enough piled on your plate without sneaking a bite off someone else’s.
He reached for a glass on the shelf. When he moved to place it on the plastic mat behind the bar, his hand cramped. The glass slipped from his grasp, hit the cement floor and shattered.
Applause erupted from the staff. After executing an exaggerated bow, he said, “Let me try that again with a little more skill.” He tried to ignore the twitches in his left hand as he reached for a glass with his right. After he fixed Emma’s drink without mishap and placed it in front of her, he grabbed the small hand broom and dustpan and cleaned up his mess.
“Don’t tell Mick you broke a glass. He’ll take it out of your pay,” she teased.
That was the least of his worries. “Since I’m working for room and board, I’ll have to go to bed without dinner and sleep in the barn.” Then, wanting to get the conversation on a safer topic, he said, “I hope the last two guys you’ve got lined up are better. The people you’ve auditioned so far don’t match the rest of the band’s ability. The first guy has possibilities. He had a tendency to drag at the beginning, but he resolved the problem quickly. Could be he’d get over that issue once he learned your style.”
“Thanks for confirming my opinion, but even if he fixes the tempo issues, I’m not sure he’s right for us. Technically he’s fine, but he lacks something. He’s almost wooden. There’s no spark in his eyes or his voice when he sings.”
“I noticed that, too. Could be he was nervous. Is he in a band now?” She nodded. “How’s he look when he’s onstage with them?”
“Like he’s got a broom handle tied to his back.”
“Chances are that won’t change.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She sipped her drink. “We haven’t performed without a fiddle in over a year. If we don’t find someone soon we’ll have to overhaul our repertoire or cancel appearances.”
“That’s rough. If my mom were here, she’d say the most complicated problems can bring the most powerful opportunities.”
“She sounds like a wise woman. I’ll try to remember that.”
The front door to the restaurant opened, drawing their attention. A thirtysomething man held the door, his face beaming brighter than the sunshine spilling in behind him as he gazed at his wife and the swaddled baby she cradled in her arms.
“Sorry, folks. We aren’t open yet.”
“Nonsense. Come on in.” Emma turned to Jamie. “Mick won’t mind.”
Jamie eyed her. “Is that true, or are you saying that because you enjoy contradicting me?”
“There is that, but in this case it’s true. Matt and Naomi are regulars.”
“You say that like there are people in town who aren’t.”
“Good comeback.” She waved the couple forward. For the first time, the light he remembered twinkled in her eyes, making her face shine. “Don’t mind Jamie. Have a seat so I can see the baby. I was thrilled for you when I heard the news.”
“We never thought this day would come,” Naomi said as she and her husband walked toward the bar. “We had to wait quite a while, but she was worth it.”
Emma peered down at the baby. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Lillian Rose.”
“We named her after our grandmothers,” Matt added.
Emma asked about all the important statistics like when she was born, her weight and length. As Naomi answered the questions, she rubbed her daughter’s smooth cheek. “We were in the delivery room with the birth mother, and got to see Lily come into this world. That was such an incredible moment. Were the adoptive parents there with you when your baby was born?”
Jamie froze. An iron fist clenched his stomach. Were the adoptive parents there with you when your baby was born? Emma had given birth to a child and given it up for adoption? When had that happened? He caught sight of her out of the corner of his vision. What did he expect? That he’d somehow be able to tell she’d given birth? Then he stole a look at her face. Was she a little pale? Her even teeth nibbled on her lower lip as if she struggled to keep her emotions under control.
Could seeing this couple’s excitement be tough for her? Maybe not all women who gave up a child had a heart of stone like the woman who’d given birth to him.
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