Page 8 of Moonlit Hideaway
“I’m from the Northeast,” Jane replied in a muted tone.
“Too cold for your bones up there, eh?” Howie guffawed. “Your old man a fisherman or some such?”
“Merchant.” Jane’s replies were as small as the bites she took, and Hank’s heart squeezed a little—was the interrogation curbing her appetite?
“Howie, there’ll be plenty of time to shoot the breeze. Jane had a long drive, and I’m sure she’ll want to turn in early.”
“Oh, pish-posh, can’t fault an old salt for being nosy.” Howie flashed her a wink and dug into his chicken with gusto.
Emma bounced onto the scene and plopped herself in the seat across from Jane.
“Wow, you look young enough to be my sister,” she said. “I’m Emma, and I live here year-round.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane said with a gracious smile. “Your father and grandma have made me feel at home.”
“How long are you staying?” Emma asked as she served herself a large helping.
“Ahem.” Hank cleared his throat and gave his daughter the “Respect their privacy” look.
“Never mind,” his daughter said, rolling her eyes. “Dad has rules here. We’re to be friendly but not too friendly. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I bet you’re not much older than me, and we can do fun things together. Do you go to school?”
“Emma…” Hank gave her another warning.
“Oh, right, it’s okay if you don’t go to school,” Emma said. “Say, do you like to play board games? I don’t mean boring games, like Gran and Dad play, but the fun ones likeClueandMonopoly.”
“I’ve been known to play games,” Jane said with more friendliness to Emma than she’d shown to him. “Do you like school? What are your favorite subjects?”
Ah, so she was normal after all, and he appreciated the kindness she showed by engaging Emma in conversation.
“I like music the best,” Emma said. “I want to be a singer, but they don’t teach singing at school.”
Mom perked up and tapped Emma’s shoulder. “Did you know Jane is a songwriter?”
“Really?” Emma’s eyes widened, and her cheeks pinked up. “What kind of songs do you write?”
Jane slipped a smile at Hank, quirking one side of her mouth. “Love songs.”
That sent a zing through him, a spark that teetered between excitement and fear. Had she meant it for him, or was he readingtoo much? He moved his eyes to the empty seat across the table and pictured his wife sitting there with a chiding expression.
Trying to hide his blush, he sopped up gravy with the biscuits and tasted them with relish while Emma, Howie, and Mom picked up the conversation. His pulse roared in his ears as his heart pinched at the unfairness of losing his wife at such a young age.
“Dad, Dad,” Emma’s excited pitch cut through the fog. “Jane knows how to play the guitar. Can she teach me?”
Before he could warn her off—that Jane needed privacy for her songwriting, she surprised him by saying, “Sure, we might make a deal with your dad.”
“Please, please?” Emma put her hands in a praying position while Jane simply looked interested.
“Yes, yes, of course, we can work out something,” he said to Jane. “But only if it doesn’t interfere with your work.”
“I’m in a lull right now—trying to get into the mood. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Her gaze stayed on his for a moment but strayed to his left hand, where he still wore his wedding ring.
“Wow, thanks, Dad.” Emma practically clapped with glee. “I can’t wait to tell Rosalie. Can she watch and take videos?”
“My lessons are private,” Jane said before Hank could step in. “I get nervous if someone else is watching.”
“You too?” Emma rubbed her hands. “I screw up so badly. Not like my mom. Well…”
His daughter gave him a guilty look and clammed up.
