Page 21 of The Magical Bed & Breakfast

Rory nodded. “That’s it. That’s the tune, here.”

Kate gave him a puzzled look. “You picked that out from the score? Just like that? It even matches Ivy’s tune?”

He shrugged.

“How is that possible?” Ivy interjected. “I made my tune up for fun.”

“Ancestral memory,” murmured Marjorie.

Kate flashed a disbelieving look around the room. “Ancestral memory? Is that even a thing? How can that be real?”

Ivy blinked. “My family didn’t come to Hazard until the 1780s.”

“Perhaps the tune was known then and lost later. It could’ve been lost when the musical score was tucked away.” This from Marjorie. “And that might have been years later, after your family was here.”

Ridiculous, Kate thought, but didn’t say it. And yet, how else did one explain Ivy making up the same tune that had been secreted away for centuries? None of this suited Kate’s logical mind. She’d spent her previous career dealing with whatwas,notwhatever this was. This was mystical nonsense like the gossip she’d successfully circumvented and debunked when she worked for her father.

Except if Kate was being honest, at least with herself, most of the debunking she had done had all been media lies to keep scandals at bay. She hated this. She wanted to deal with facts, not secrets, mysteries, and innuendo. Despite all her tumultuous feelings—or perhaps because of them—she found herself asking, “Why was it tucked away? Why was it hidden?” She spoke softly. Ancestral memory theory aside, more and more about her inn was becoming a mystery.

She took the manuscript, once again safely ensconced in its plastic shield. Leaving them to toss Marjorie’s outlandish ideas around, she headed to the parlor where the piano waited. She’d been longing for a moment to draw forth its music. No doubt it needed to be tuned, but that could come later. She could read music, though maybe not as well as Rory who could pick out a tune and hum it just by looking at a musical score. For now, she’d try her hand at this piece of music. See where that led.

Excited to see if what Rory said was true, Kate settled herself on the bench. She set the music before her and positioned her hands on the keys. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a long breath.

This. Was. The. Moment.

She peered at the score and played, haltingly at first, leaning forward, eyes intent on the score as she painstakingly picked out each note. The piece was complicated, well beyond her usual ability on the piano. She had loved music lessons as a youth, until college and friends and later career overrode her time. For now, due to the difficulty of the piece, she ignored the bass clef and focused on the treble, playing just with her right hand. She picked out the melody, note by note, until she had the tune Ivy had sung. How much was she influenced, though, by what she had just heard? Still, the timing seemed right.

She stopped and stared, mesmerized, thinking—overthinking, really—until she heard someone behind her.

“Let me try,” Rory said softly.

“You play?”

Amusement flashed in his eyes before he nodded. Kate relinquished her spot on the bench. He sat, and with ease, leaning forward, his eyes on the manuscript, he played both treble and bass clef, his fingers moving easily over the keys while Kate stood behind him, impressed.

“Well, that’s more than I could do, at least on the fly.”

“You play well, actually.

“You sound surprised.”

“So few people play the piano these days compared to decades past,” said Marjorie from behind them.

They both jumped. Kate had gotten lost in the moment and forgotten she and Rory weren’t alone in the inn. Had he also?

But Marjorie was still speaking. “When I was young, we all had lessons, so we could play in church if called upon. I had no aptitude for it, but Rory’s grandmother was quite good as I recall, and…”

“The music is lovely,” said Ivy, joining the rest of them.

“Ivy, you must have heard the tune somewhere for the blessing,” said Kate, determined to find a logical explanation.

“Unless it’s magic,” Ivy added in a stubborn voice.

Kate blinked. Ivy usually seemed so even-tempered. “Magic?” She raised her brows.

Ivy let her breath out in a whoosh. “Hazardismagic. I know people don’t believe anymore, but it is. And you need to know that since you own the inn. It might be really important. More important than you can even imagine. Your life might depend on magic.” Ivy took a step back and shook her head a little. “Huh, I don’t know wherethatcame from.”

“Ivy’s right, though,” said Marjorie. “We should learn as much as we can about the musical score. I’ll consult with the rest of the Hazard Historical Society. If that’s all right with you,” she added, with a questioning look at Kate.

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