Page 24 of Willow in the Wind

“It is.” James tilted his head. He suddenly felt as though he could spill all his secrets to this genius rock star. He’d spent months listening to his music, tapping into Frank Baxter’s innermost life. Maybe Frank could take a little of James’s. “She told me there’s something she wants to talk about. Something big.”

“Any guesses about what it is?” Frank asked.

James’s tongue went dry. “Man, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in five or six months. I have this hunch.”

That it’s a baby.

That she’s pregnant with our baby.

“But I don’t know for sure,” he finished.

Frank puffed out his cheeks.

“Are you with anyone?” James asked.

“Off the record? I don’t like talking about my romantic life with journalists,” Frank said.

James cut the recorder and agreed.

“I split up with my daughter’s mom about ten years ago, and I miss her every single day,” Frank said. “She’s the reason I wrote this record.”

James was surprised. Through the lyrics, he’d speculated that Frank was newly in love with someone. But it turned out that his love was the same as it had been for years. It grew day by day. And he didn’t have any outlet for it, save for his music.

After the interview, Frank and James shook hands and agreed to keep in touch. Usually, musicians promise this to James but don’t have the time, energy, or organization to keep the friendship going. That was okay with James.

James left Madison Square Garden the way he’d come, heading to a little coffee shop nearby to make notes about the interview while it was still fresh. He had dinner with Kinsey at seven at a French restaurant that had excellent foie gras and unpasteurized cheese. If Kinsey ordered something like that, he’d know she wasn’t pregnant. He would breathe a sigh of relief.

Or he’d be disappointed.

He wasn’t yet sure.

Kinsey was already at the restaurant when James got there at seven o’clock. She was prettier than ever in a sleek dark green dress and a pair of very cool earrings that hung down her neck and glinted with gold. She remained seated when he got there, which meant that he couldn’t see if she was pregnant or not. She’d be, what, five months? That would be visible. Her face was calm although he knew she was probably panicking on the inside. Or was he the one who was panicking? Maybe she was fine.

Sitting with her felt cozy. Simple. It felt like he belonged somewhere.

“How was your flight?” Kinsey asked as they sat.

James said it was good. He had an entire row to himself, and he watched movies with music themes, likeAlmost Famousand a documentary about Aretha Franklin. They’d once joked that they both liked to watch movies about their fields. She was borderline obsessed with movies about women writers or editors. The publishing field was rife with drama and easily put to screen.

The server came over to take their order. Kinsey stuck with water, and James’s ears rang.Pregnant! She’s pregnant!He decided to order a glass of red wine. He gave her a knowing look, wondering how she’d tell him. What words would she use? She was so brilliant with language.

“And your interview?” she asked. “How was Frank Baxter?”

“Iconic,” James said. “And down to earth at the same time. We had a great chat. Oh, and his daughter is a big fan of Taylor’s, apparently.”

“Who isn’t? There’s been talk of asking her to write a novel for the publishing house,” Kinsey said.

James laughed. “It’s hard to imagine Taylor sitting down long enough to write an entire book.”

“She can surprise you,” Kinsey said.

“She already has. Over and over again.” He tilted his head. “That’s what having a kid is like, I guess. Nonstop surprises.”

Kinsey sipped her water.

“And you? How is the publishing house?”

“Just fine.” Kinsey went under the table to retrieve something from her bag. James imagined a pregnancy test wrapped in plastic. But instead, she pulled out a blue book and set it on the table between them.

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