“It was your friend. I mean”—Hadley shook his head between gasps—“not your friend, I guess?”
Miriam rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “It’s complicated.”
“Clearly.” He held up a hand, leaning down and bracing himself on his thigh while he caught his breath. “Man. I wouldn’t normally be this winded, but I had to make sure that guy didn’t follow you before I could come after you. John’s gonna have my hide if he finds out I sicced some asshole on you when I was supposed to be protecting you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Again: clearly.” Even out of breath, he had a pleasant twinkle to his eye. He stood up straight. “I’m really sorry, Miriam. I didn’t think anything of tagging you in that post. Never occurred to me something like that might happen. When he showed up, I just assumed you invited him.”
She wanted to be angry with him, but mostly she just wanted to be angry, and it wasn’t fair. She might just as easily have done the same. “Apology accepted,” she said, and started on her way.
Hadley gripped her elbow. “Wait a minute!” He ran a hand through his hair, laughing. “Do you always make everything this hard? I’m trying to ask you to dinner.”
“Hadley, you don’t have to take care of me, no matter what Becky said.”
“This has nothing to do with Becky. I don’t even know Becky! I’m just asking you to dinner. Because I’ve been listening to you play for the last two hours, and … you’re amazing, Miriam. That’s all. I’d like to invite you to dinner with the rest of the band, and I’d love for you to come back to spend the evening at the Gathering Haus. Maybe we can even find a use for you on the piano.”
“Oh.” Miriam had to take a beat to reorganize her thoughts around a totally new thought process. The warmth in his eyes disarmed her anger. It made her feel, for the first time in so long she couldn’t even remember, like a woman rather than a mother or widow. “What do you guys play?” Stalling for time. Nice.
“Traditional music … bluegrass. A little honky-tonk. Stuff to square-dance to.”
“Not much use for a piano in that mix.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure we could figure something out.”
She bit her lip. “Well, I—I’ve got—my, uh—my friend, I need to check on her.” She wasn’t accustomed to being tongue-tied.
“Okay?” There was that gleam in his eye again—amusement? Something about the way his obvious sincerity mixed with that mischievous quirk at the corner of his mouth made her want to say yes. If for no other reason than to wash away the bad taste of her interaction with Gus.
“Okay,” she said. “Let me check in with my friend. And I don’t want to go back there before dinner.”
“Just in case?” he finished with her, and they both laughed.
Dicey sounded groggy, but she insisted she hadn’t been asleep. “You got a date?” she said. “Damn, woman, you work fast.”
“It’s not a date. I don’t think.”
“It’s a date, Miriam. Anyway, whatever. I’m having a rom-com night. You have fun. But not too much fun.”
Dinner with Hadley and his bluegrass band turned out to be the most fun she’d had in, well, a year. Though not at first. For the first half hour, she kept scanning the restaurant, fearing that despite his supposed rehearsal at eight in Denver, Gus might pop out at any minute. It took half a margarita to remember that a place where you could throw peanuts on the floor wasn’t really his scene.
Slowly, she relaxed, resting her chin on the heels of her hands and enjoying the conversation. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed hanging around musicians, trading esoteric jokes and talking in impenetrable lingo. Unlike Gus, these people already thought she belonged. They didn’t view her as a charity project, but as a colleague.
At the bottom of her second margarita, Miriam found her abdominal muscles achy from laughter and the world a bit surreal—in the best of ways. This night offered the freedom and lack of responsibility of college without the insecurity of late adolescence.
Four months from now, she and Teo would have been empty nesters. Less, if she subtracted the weeks the kids would have spent at Interlochen over the summer. Would she and Teo have grown into a social life like this?
Her phone buzzed; she pulled it out in case Dicey needed her. But of course, it was Gus.
Please call me. I understand you’re angry, but I can’t concentrate. That music haunts me. I need resolution to this.
Unbelievable. She slid it back in her pocket without wasting a moment debating a reply. Gus didn’t matter. All she wanted to think about tonight was the admiration in the eyes of the man across the table. Hadley wasn’t even being particularly subtle about it. She could feel herself lighting up. She was still young … ish. Not even forty yet. Maybe Brad was right. Maybe she could be happy again.
Impulsively, she pulled her phone back out, clicked “Options” beside Gus’s number, and blocked it.
The others ordered dessert, but Hadley took Miriam back to the Gathering Haus for a square-dance lesson before the event got underway.
“I’m not so sure about this,” she confessed, standing in the middle of the hardwood floor.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, I just keep seeing Hee Haw. All these old women in creepy tulle skirts, and guys with string ties and belt buckles at their collars.”
Hadley laughed. “They weren’t old, actually.”
“Well, they seemed old.”
“To a kid, sure. Anyway, those ties are called bolos, and I can’t promise you won’t see any, but as for the rest, you can relax. This is very casual. Just local people who do it for fun.”
The Gathering Haus lay quiet. The bartenders sat outside the back door on camp stools, smoking. They waved as Hadley and Miriam entered, but didn’t leave their cigarettes.
Hadley led her to the center of
