Page 16 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

Where my teenage sanctuary used to be—all creamy whites and pale blues, with lovingly placed accents like glowing star decals and sheer lavender curtains—there are now...

Piles of scribbled sheet music. Half a dozen guitars. A gleaming new mixing board.

I blink rapidly, trying to reconcile this foreign sight with my memories. Behind me, Graeme makes a low sound of confusion. I turn to see my dad wincing sheepishly.

“Ah, Ecco honey, I’m not sure if I mentioned… I may have turned your old room into a recording studio.”

I stand speechless, then spin on my heel. Somehow, in the presence of my dad’s warmth and tucked back into cozy Elderberry Falls’ embrace, I can’t find it in me to get upset.

“Very cool, Dad!” I enthuse, finding I actually mean the words. “Maybe I can lay down some tracks while I’m in town!”

Dad turns to Graeme with an apologetic smile. “Son, you’re welcome to stay here alone on the couch, but Ecco might be more comfortable back at the inn.” He pauses, his expression turning knowing. “Though it sounds like that may not be a compromise you’re willing to make.”

Graeme shakes his head, jaw set stubbornly. “Absolutely not. Where Ms. Waverly goes, I go. I’d rather just sleep on her floor at the inn.”

I sigh, exasperation and, strangely, fondness welling up met. Of course he’d say that.

“Well then,” I say brightly, clapping my hands together. “Looks like it’s back to the Moonflower for us! I’m sure Mariah can figure something out.”

Dad envelops me in another warm hug, his woodsy scent achingly familiar. “You just holler if you need anything, songbird. My door’s always open.”

I squeeze him tightly for a long moment before pulling back. “I know, Dad. Love you.”

Graeme nods stiffly to my father, and then we’re trekking back down the hallway, through the cozy living room strewn with crocheted afghans and dog-eared novels, and out into the golden afternoon sunlight.

While we walk down the winding path through Dad’s riotous wildflower gardens, I can’t help sneaking a glance at Graeme’s chiseled profile.

“Thank you,” I blurt out before I can second-guess myself. “For being so...” I wave a hand. “You know. Dedicated.”

Those glowing blue gargoyle eyes slide to mine, inscrutable as always. But I swear I see a flicker of surprise in their stony depths.

“It’s my job,” he rumbles after a beat.

Right. His job. How could I forget?

The walk back to the inn doesn’t take long, and I fill the air with facts about local landmarks, helping him get the lay of the land. Graeme’s as silent as ever.

By the time the Moonflower’s ivy-covered walls and cheerful blue door come into view, I’m ready to throttle Graeme if he grunts monosyllabically at me one more time. So much for that brief flash of fondness.

Mariah bustles up to us as soon as we step into the lobby. “Well? How’d it go with your dad?”

I shift my duffle bag, unzipping the cat carrier a little and letting Minx peek her furry head out. “No dice. Dad turned my old room into a music studio.”

Graeme clears his throat pointedly.

“Oh, and Tall, Dark, and Grumpy over there,” I add breezily, jerking a thumb over my shoulder, “has proclaimed he’ll sleep on my floor at the inn to make sure I am fully and completely protected from the worst Elderberry Falls has to throw at me. So… looks like we’ll take that room after all.”

I punctuate this with a deep, long-suffering sigh.

Mariah’s eyes dart between us, her smile growing a little too bright, a little too sheepish. She fidgets with the leather-bound reservations book she has in her hands.

“So, funny story,” she hedges.

I narrow my eyes. I know this look. This is the “I did something hare-brained” look.

“About the room… I may have had a surprise planned for you, Ecco.”

Well, that sounds terrible.

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