Page 90 of Voice to Raise
I tried to let go.
He covered my hand with both of his.
We sat in my formal living room because this room was closer to the front door. We’d gone back and forth with Pauletta about the best place to meet the band. My place wound up being the most logical. Razor Made was comfortable here. Pauletta and Mickey had already visited.
Mickey, Kato, and Lydia were already set up in the family room where the official greeting was to take place. I wasn’tcertain about this all being recorded, but a long conversation with Mickey and Thornton Graves convinced me. Thornton was the executive producer while Mickey would be the director on this project. Kato and Lydia were thrilled to be heading to Greece.
This all overwhelmed.
A knock came at the door.
Pauletta.
She would’ve been able to see us through the front window and, more importantly, I might’ve told her how much the doorbell drove me nuts. I really needed to change it, but that was just one more thing on the list of things needing to be done.
Spencer released my hand, caught my gaze, then nodded. He rose and strode to the front door.
I followed behind. At a distance.
He’d moved in just before Christmas. Here we were, December thirtieth, and he’d already made himself at home. With my blessing, of course.
Moses was hanging out in my bedroom. We’d put a litter box for him in my ensuite bathroom, so he had everything he needed. When we didn’t have guests, he wandered our house with perfect ease.
Our.
“Come on in.” Spencer spoke clearly. “You’re most welcome here. Why don’t you put your coats in the front hall closet? Plenty of hangers.”
“Appreciated.” Pauletta’s voice rang out—also clearly.
I moved toward the entryway to find all of Grindstone, as well as Pauletta, Thornton Graves, and Hugo Threadgold removing their coats. The snow from the twenty-first had continued for a while. We’d been almost snowed in. Residents of Cedar Valley and into the interior of the province had been hit far more than us. Melting had begun, but then the snow had returnedyesterday with a vengeance, so I was grateful everyone was removing their boots as well.
Axel, the lead singer, was the first to hang up his coat and slip off his boots. He caught sight of me and grinned. “Man, this is so cool.” He stepped forward with his hand extended.
I shook it.I hope he doesn’t feel how sweaty and clammy my hand is.
Axel was the tallest of the bunch, followed by Thornton, Pauletta, and Hugo. Ed, the guitar player was shorter. Songbird, the keyboard player was next, followed by Meg, the drummer. Big Mac, the bassist, was the shortest of the bunch. He wrapped his arm protectively around Meg, who had the tiniest baby bump. The Indigenous woman was stunning and practically glowed. The color might’ve come from being out in the cold, or just that glow some pregnant women got.
Songbird was South Korean, while Pauletta, Axel, and Ed were Black. I was looking at a multicultural group and, frankly, that put me at ease. Just like having Creed in the band, with his Indian heritage, assisted a lot. I shouldn’t feel that way—but I did.
Ed stepped forward next. “Thanks for hosting us. None of us has a place this elegant.”
Thornton, his husband, came alongside him. “Ed and I are buying a new place in Vancouver. But we won’t be closing on the place for a bit.” His eyes shone. Amber? Whiskey? Truly unique, that was for certain.
After I’d shaken hands and introduced myself to the rest of the band, Spencer stepped forward. “Why don’t we head into the family room. A bit cozier.”
Axel grinned. “I hear you make a mean hot chocolate.”
I was able to smile back. “I do. Pretty boring.”
The singer linked arms with me. “I suspect you’ve got a decked-out kitchen.”
Hugo laughed. “Unlike our tiny one.”
Axel shrugged. “We’re simple guys. A small kitchen suits us.”
“Until they add kids.” Songbird breezed past everyone and headed toward the direction Spencer had indicated.
Hugo started coughing.
