She trailed behind us, and once we stepped through the front door, it was Lance who met and greeted us. Like Davis, he was dressed in suit pants, slim fit but black and wearing a light gray dress shirt rolled up to the elbows.
“Look at you, little Miss Famous.”
I rolled my eyes and let him sweep me into a hug. “Hi Lance. Good to see you.”
“You too. Sounds like your life has gotten a lot more interesting and I didn’t think that was possible a few weeks ago.”
I slapped his back and stepped out of his hold. “Shut up.”
He held out his hand and introduced himself to Davis. “Huge fan of yours,” he said. “I followed you in college too, but now I’m a bigger fan, learning the kind of man you are.”
Davis blushed from his cheeks to the roots of his hair. I’d never seen such a thing. “Thank you. Nice to finally meet you too, Lance.”
“There you are!” Scarlett Drumond swept into the entryway in a gorgeous ivory dress. It was a halter top tied at the back of her neck, a tight empire waist and a flared-out skirt. The dress shone beneath the entryway chandelier, exposing a slit up to her thigh and thin, shimmering threads. But what I loved most about her was her bare feet, non-painted toes or anything. Instead, she introduced herself first to Davis, then Ruth. She gave her a gentle hug like Ruth was fragile porcelain.
Surprisingly, my sister hugged her back like she meant it before ducking her head and stepping back as Scarlett cupped her cheek and said, “Why aren’t you just so beautiful and sweet? Gorgeous, child. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Umm. Thanks?” Ruth shuffled back and forth on her feet, and I went to her to take her hand.
She never would have been called those things. They were superficial and worldly, and while I knew she’d struggle with them, the easy praise seemed to boost her spirits. Which means she was blushing and smiling as Christian Connelly, Belle’s dad, swept into the room with the grace and confidence of a man who knew exactly how important he was, and the kindness of a man who’d do anything for someone he loved.
“Hello! Hello! Welcome to our home!” He introduced himself to Davis, shook Ruth’s hand, and when he came to me, scowled playfully. “You’ve been hiding secrets, young lady, and we’re going to talk about this tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
He barked out a laugh, throwing back his head.
“Christian, Maggie. How many times have I told you to call me Christian?” He threw his arm around me and swept me toward the kitchen.
Everyone else followed, and soon the dinner table was a hot mess of laughter, conversation, food being passed around and drinks being poured.
“So, tell me about this singing of yours my daughter neglected to mention before.”
We’d talked about Davis’s upcoming week off and the playoffs. The Steel’s chances of making it all the way and bringing home a Super Bowl win to Nashville for the first time ever. Scarlett, with a skill I wished to possess, managed to drag conversation out of a very overwhelmed Ruth until she appeared at ease with the chaos.
Both Scarlett and Christian had peppered me with questions regarding my pregnancy, something Belle and Lance had mentioned to them, along with many offers to help with anything I needed.
For the second time in a week, I felt at home.
It never ceased to amaze me how strangers could become friends and then family, and yet especially in the last month, that’s what Davis had given me.
As the meal had slowed, it was Scarlett who suggested she and Ruth and Belle clean up, so they were in the kitchen. Lance had excused himself not bothering to mumble an excuse, leaving Christian and Davis and me alone.
There was no doubt this wasn’t pre-orchestrated, so I wasn’t surprised by the question. It didn’t make it less intimidating.
“It’s something I’ve always done. And you can’t blame Belle. I told her not to say anything.”
“Oh trust me, she spilled that can of beans as soon as I recognized you on that stage. I’m not mad. I understand, although I’d hope you know we would have gladly helped as soon as Belle came to us and told us of your talent. You’ve had no formal training?”
“No. I’ve just always done it. Started singing nursery rhymes and then hymns. When I was twelve, my father had me start singing in front of the church. When I went to school, I went for a music education degree, so I had some voice coaching then, I guess. But we all know I wasn’t there for long.”
“I’ve spoken with some agents, because as much as I’d simply love to sign you, I also want to make sure you find someone you trust to help you along the way.”
“I trust you, but are you sure? I mean, it was a karaoke bar.” A ridiculous nervous laugh escaped me. An agent?
“With your talent and your look, people will be climbing over themselves to represent you the first time I get you on stage. I want you in the studio recording music, but I also want to work on getting you a following. I have dozens of agents in my office, as you know, and I’d like for you to meet with a few of them I think would be best. Of course, if you want to go elsewhere, I’m happy to do that for you, too.”
That was… well, my head was already spinning. “Why?”