Page 34 of Love and Other Lost Things

“Pete!” she said, pushing back her chair. Jane hadn’t seen the café owner in a decade, but he was one of the people in the town she’d never forgotten. When she was a sophomore in high school, Pete had moved to Linden Falls for a quieter life after decades of working as a musician in New York. He’d opened the Grassroots Café in order to offer the town both good coffee and live music. Pete had heard Jane sing and play her guitar in church and had invited her to headline his weekly Saturday evening showcase.

Dad had agreed, as long as Jane got her homework done first. He’d enjoyed Jane’s talent… when it suited him; when people stopped him on the street to congratulate him on his daughter’s solo in the church choir or the folk song she’d performed at the café.

I played a little guitar in my day, too, had been Dad’s standard reply. That must be where she gets it from. Could have made something out of it but I decided to go to the police academy instead.

Between Linden Falls, the neighboring towns, and the tourists who came in the summer to visit the wineries along the lake, the Grassroots Café had attracted a decent crowd. With Pete’s mentorship, and encouragement from Nik, Hannah, and Ali, Jane had learned how to write songs and perform them up on that rickety stage with the battered guitar Nik had gifted her.

“I heard you moved out to LA to make it big,” Pete said, giving Jane’s shoulder a nudge.

“I haven’t quite made it big, but I do live in LA.”

“And you’re still playing music?”

Jane lifted a shoulder. “Now and then.” Hopefully, it came off as modest and not evasive. How could she tell this man who’d believed in her so completely that she hadn’t picked up a guitar in a decade? That she’d left here to follow her dreams—or at least that’s what so many people assumed—and had so little to show for it?

Pete slapped Nik on the back. “It’s nice to have our girl back, isn’t it?” And then to Jane, “We’ve had a lot of musicians come through here, but it’s never been quite the same since you left.”

Jane’s heart squeezed. “Well, I haven’t played anywhere this welcoming.” She hadn’t played anywhere, but even if she were headlining Madison Square Garden on the regular, Jane was confident that her statement would still be true.

“How long are you staying?”

“Just a week or so.”

“Any chance I could book you for next Saturday?”

Jane felt her cheeks flush. “Oh, I really…” Really couldn’t. She hadn’t picked up a guitar in years. Hadn’t sung a song that wasn’t a lullaby to Scarlett. Jane was so far out of practice she wasn’t sure she even remembered how to hold a note. “I’m just here to help my mom, you know, since my dad…”

Pete’s smile faded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s been hard on my mom, so I really don’t know if I can get away.”

“Well.” Pete lifted the straps of his apron and pulled it over his head. “What about right now? Any chance I could get you to go up and sing something for us?” He waved a hand at the stage where a young man was setting up a stool and microphone. On a stand rested an acoustic guitar.

The noise from the patrons buzzed around her, and Jane realized the café had filled up considerably since she’d arrived a half hour ago. Tonight was the Saturday music showcase.

“I—” To Jane’s relief, the phone behind the counter rang, granting her a temporary reprieve as Pete excused himself to answer it.

Nik shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you going to play something?”

Jane eyed the guitar on stage. How could she possibly get up there after all this time? Would she even remember the basic chords? But how could she say no and let Pete down? And there was Nik. He thought she’d been working as a musician all this time. Surely someone who’d been playing bars and clubs for a decade in LA wouldn’t be afraid to sing a folk song in their hometown coffee shop.

And then there was this yearning building inside her. Some of the happiest times of her life were here in this café, up on that stage. Getting lost in the notes, the lyrics, the energy from the audience. When else had she ever felt more like herself?

Jane wanted that feeling back, just for one moment. One song.

“I don’t know.” Jane twisted the sleeve of her shirt.

Nik cocked his head, understanding dawning on his face. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course not.” Jane bit her lip. “Except… it’s just… this town… you know?” She recognized at least a couple of faces in the crowd. Nobody she’d known very well, but well enough that they’d probably gossip about her later. “It’s been a long time since I played here.”

Nik paused for a moment, as if he were thinking that over. And then he leaned in, so close that his facial hair scraped her cheek and his breath whispered against her neck. “Jane,” he murmured, and she shivered involuntarily. “They’re going to love you.”

A flush came over her, both at hearing the word love coming from Nik’s mouth—so close that if she turned her head a little to the left, her lips would brush his—but also from the familiarity of the words. A promise from a lifetime ago. Nik had said those words the first time she’d ever played here, when her nerves had left her shaking so hard she could barely grip her guitar.

They’re going to love you.

Like I do.

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