Page 43 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Thank you so much, Lottie. I’m Sophie Evans, but you can just call me Sophie. It’s so nice to meet you.” Sophie graspsmy free hand without waiting for me to even lift it, squeezing warmly. “My husband and daughter told me all about you but didn’t mention you were so beautiful.”

“Oh,” I blush, tucking my chin into my chest. There have been thousands of people in my life telling me how beautiful, sexy, and gorgeous I am, but none I ever believed as sincerely as Hunter and his mother complimenting me.

“Thank you.” I try to laugh it off and not be totally awkward. “I also brought you this.”

Shoving the bottle of wine in her hands, she finally releases mine to take it and inspect the label.

“Oh, my goodness. How thoughtful, thank you.”

The wine diverts their attention enough to allow us entry farther into the room, where I’m introduced to Ryder, the oldest brother, the last of the Evans family. A man who has the same striking features and build as Hunter but with eyes so dark grey they’re almost black. His hair is just as black but longer and more unkept than his brother's neat cut style, and if possible, his posture stiffer. He doesn’t seem unkind just a bit stoic. Not very chatty either, leaving all the talking to his relatives.

Ginger greets me like an old friend with a tight hug and pulls me to a bar lining one wall of the living room. Popping open the bottle of wine with a flourished practice before pouring glasses for everyone except Ryder, claiming he doesn’t like the taste and will stick with his beer.

“Wow. Isn’t this that fancy expensive bottle they had at the market?” Ginger asks, holding the bottle up to her face to read all the small print.

“It was the best one they had, so, yes? I’m not sure.” I sip on my glass of wine, the taste smooth but sharp at the same time. I’ve never heard of the brand, but it’s good.

“This bottle cost like five hundred dollars, Lottie!” she exclaims, tentatively placing the bottle on the wooden bar top.

I hold my breath, waiting for a sneer or the backhanded comments that I’m used to. What I get is quite the opposite.

“You shouldn’t have spent so much. We would have been fine with a ten-dollar bottle. You don’t need to waste your money trying to impress us. We’re easily impressed out here in the sticks.”

A giant breath of relief deflates my lungs. They aren’t insulted I didn’t spend more on a gift for them. They actually seem concerned that I spent so much. Is my perception that skewed due to my glitzy life in a gilded cage?

“It really wasn’t a big deal. Sometimes, it’s nice to splurge on something to share with others.”

My excuse is enough to pacify them, but they seem to sip their wine slower now, appreciating every drop that much more. I take a hearty chug to help ease my nerves. Sitting at the bar, Ginger sits next to me, but Hunter takes up a position standing at the far end, keeping a healthy distance between us, but his eyes are always trained on me, even if it’s through his periphery. Every time I bring the glass to my lips, I see his attention flick to me to watch, then instantly look away.

“So, tell me, Lottie,” Sophie starts, pulling my attention away from Hunter and his odd behavior. “What brought you to our little town of Snowberry? We’re not exactly a tourist destination.”

“No, I suppose you’re not,” I agree, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass, steeling my reserve to answer a plethora of personal questions I may have to lie about.

I don’t want to lie to them. They seem like nice people, inviting me into their home and being so welcoming. But there are things I can’t tell them, not if I want to retain my secret identity. I wonder if Batman ever felt this guilty lying to his friends.

“A friend of mine suggested it. She knew I wanted to get out of the city and away from everything for a while. Said I would love it here. So, she got in contact with Ginger and arranged for me to rent the cabin.”

“That was nice of her. What’s her name? Do we know her, Ginger?”

Sophie looks to her daughter for confirmation. I look at her, concerned that this is going to lead somewhere I don’t want it to. If anyone knows Luna and what she does, they may guess who I am, or at least that I’m more well-known than I let on.

Ginger side-eyes me, pausing before answering. “Uh, no. No one you know, Mom. Just an online friend of mine.”

I can feel my heart beating in my throat and exhale slowly, easing my growing anxiety.

“Oh, I see. Well, we’re certainly happy to have you here. How long are you staying?”

“A few months.” I sip my wine, hoping she doesn’t ask anything about my past.

“And how are you liking town?”

Now, this question I can answer. Anything about town is easy to talk about. It has nothing to do with my past or my future—just my present.

“Town is amazing. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with Tobias at the Ugly Mug. I’ll drink any coffee he puts in front of me.”

“You and everybody else in town. He is a godsend. We’re lucky to have him,” Sophie gushes.

It’s no surprise to me that he’s well-liked in town. If he worked in the city, they would always have a line out the door and around the corner. Having a coffee superpower puts him above Superman status. A flying man in a cape is nothing compared to the perfect cup of coffee every single day.

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