Page 23 of Willow in the Wind

“Mathematics,” Logan said.

“Like you,” Matt offered.

Logan raised his shoulders. “I guess that’s why they paired us up.”

“You can help each other with your homework,” Stella said.

Logan shrugged again. Stella found it difficult to gauge how Logan felt about going away to college in August. It probably meant he would miss her book launch (which was probably a good thing). But she wanted him to feel confident and good about going away. She didn’t want him to look back at his past on Nantucket with any regrets or fears.

The food arrived. Chloe went to the bathroom to wash her hands, and Matt got up to get some napkins. This left just Stella and Logan at the table. She reached over to touch his hand.

“We’re going to miss you, you know. But we’re going to visit all the time,” she said. “And you can come home, too. We’ll pick you up.”

Logan stared down at his burger and didn’t answer her.

That took Stella back to age eighteen, too. She’d been terrified to leave home. She’d cried herself to sleep when she’d first gotten to college.

And then, she’d opened herself up to the rest of her life. And she hadn’t regretted a thing.

She knew Logan would find a way to do that, too. Eventually.

Suddenly, a text buzzed through Stella’s phone. Without thinking about it, she pulled it out of her purse.

It was from Bruce.

It read:

We need to talk.

Stella’s heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.

Chapter Eight

June 2024

James was backstage at Madison Square Garden. Security was tight, and a lot of men in black clothing were checking his laptop bag and going through the pockets where he kept his pads of paper and pens. He gave them stern hellos and made his way to the dressing room, where he was to meet Frank Baxter for the interview. Jet lag made his vision blurry and his head pound.

Pull yourself together. This is your one shot for the interview. It has to be good.

When he entered Frank’s dressing room, he launched himself back into professionalism with the click of his pen.

Frank got up from a swivel chair to shake his hand. He wore Levi's jeans and a black T-shirt, and his rocker-like black hair was tousled. The first thing he said was, “Great to see you again, man,” because Frank was the kind of professional who never forgot a face. And then he said, “My daughter loves your daughter, by the way. Taylor Atkinson. She’s a great role model for girls looking to get into the music scene.”

James was taken aback. He hadn’t imagined his daughter’s name coming out of Frank Baxter’s mouth. “Thanks for saying that. I’ll pass it along.”

“Seriously, though. It took ages for me to get Annie into music,” Frank said, pulling his fingers through his hair. “But she follows Taylor on TikTok or Instagram or one or both, and she practices her guitar, like, two to three hours a day. She even showed me a song she had written the previous night. It was cool. It sounded like early Sonic Youth.”

“Is she a Bad Habit fan?” James asked.

“She likes them. But not as much as I do,” Frank said. “Man, they’re hard and ragged, but they’re alive, you know? It reminds me of writing songs as a twentysomething.”

James had already started his recorder on his phone—which pleased him. Frank had already given him some great quotes for the article.

Frank and James had an easy conversation over the next two hours. They spoke about Frank’s new album, his theories about songwriting, raising their daughters to love music, and Frank’s fears and anxieties about playing Madison Square Garden. After a while, Frank turned the interview on its head and asked James about his time in New York versus his time in London.

Suddenly bleary with jet lag, James admitted, “I’ve been away for six months. I just got back.” He took a sip from a water bottle on the table. “I’m supposed to get dinner with my ex tonight before the gig.”

Frank’s eyes lit up. “Wow. That’s heavy.”

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