“I left you a note.”
“That said you’d be back, but you weren’t. I tried your cell phone and got your voice mail.”
Danny remembered, with a quick pinch of guilt, that he’d turned off his cell phone in the courthouse and then forgot to turn it back on afterward. Which didn’t make him feel any less pissed. “You should have waited.”
“I couldn’t!” Biddy sounded annoyed herself now. “I’ve been trying to tell you—it was either do this or give it to Araceli.”
“Listen, Biddy . . .”
“I can’t.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ve got a gig tonight, and I’m already running late. You can chew me out tomorrow if you still feel like it.”
She turned and walked briskly toward the street, giving him a sudden view of her more than respectable behind.
Whoa! He would not, repeat not, stand here and watch Biddy Gunter’s behind. Even though it was a lot more interesting than he might have thought, given her office clothes. Of course, he’d seen her in other clothes. When she sang. Which she’d be doing tonight.
Danny thought about the last time he’d seen Biddy sing. The way it made him feel. The way it had made him forget about the carriage house for most of the night.
“Biddy!” he called after her.
She paused at the iron gate, staring back at him with narrowed eyes.
“Where’s your gig?”
She paused for a moment longer. Danny had the feeling she was trying to decide whether or not to tell him. Then she gave a tiny shrug. “Bodacious Barbeque. It’s a benefit for the food bank. Bring a can of food and get in free.”
He nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Whatever.” She turned back toward the street, clanging the iron gate behind her.
Danny stood watching her go, then headed toward the street himself. Surely he had at least one can of food he could part with.
Chapter 7
Bodacious Barbeque turned out to be a chain restaurant on IH-10. Danny dropped his can of creamed corn and a three-pound bag of rice into the bin at the front and found himself a table.
He hadn’t come to eat, but he did anyway—brisket, sausage, coleslaw, potato salad, beans, a couple of slices of wheat bread and peach cobbler. Amazing what a quick walk through a haunted house could do to your appetite.
Haunted. Danny’s chest tightened. No way around it, though. Unless he wanted to kid himself, he had to admit it. The freakin’ carriage house had a freakin’ ghost, and he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Of course, he was the only one who could see it, or parts of it, anyway, assuming blood counted as a part.
Not really a great way to be special. He’d much rather be the one telling some other poor sucker to take a vacation and work on anti-stress exercises.
The stage at the restaurant looked like it had been thrown together at the last minute—a few risers, some mikes, and a couple of light bars. A man and woman with guitars were wailing away when Danny walked in, singing about how it sucked to be them. Right. Danny usually avoided anything involving acoustic instruments like the plague.
“What time do the Chalk Creek Changelings come on?” he asked the waiter as he cleared away the remains of dinner and bundled up the paper table cover.
“They’re up next. Just in time, too. Crowd’s about to nod off.”
Danny glanced around the room and decided the waiter was right. The combination of overflowing barbeque platters and melancholy folk singers had lulled the audience into a major snooze.
Glum and Glummer finished to a tepid round of applause, and the Chalk Creek Changelings began to set up behind them. The buzz in the crowd seemed to pick up as the guitarist moved to the front of the stage. Almost like they knew what was coming.
The stage looked about the size of a postage stamp. Sideshow Bob had his electric keyboard scrunched at the side, while the drums and bass were pushed to the back. The guitarist was huddled at the front edge. Danny wondered how they’d manage to make room for Biddy.
Sideshow Bob began running some scales, then, amazingly, the scales began to morph into an introduction. The guitar and bass filled in behind him, the drummer using his brushes.
Danny heard Biddy’s violin before he saw her, playing the melody as she stepped forward into the only spotlight. “Grab your coat and get your hat . . . ,” she drawled.
Tonight she wore a strapless sundress with a tight black top and a flaring flowered skirt. Huge hoops dangled from her ears, glittering in the spotlight. Her silvery blond hair feathered around her face, like moonbeams. She looked . . . luscious.
Danny blew out a breath. Don’t go there. Oh, don’t go there.
Biddy was off limits for all kinds of reasons. Her sister. Her job. Her ability to see through him and know when he was lying his head off. Most of all her very real suspicion that something weird was going on at the carriage house. A relationship with Biddy would be a one-way trip to trouble. He really needed to stay off that train.
The song ended and the crowd went nuts, as usual. Biddy grinned, then swung into another song, this one about a cheating lover who’d be finding himself another girl before long but wouldn’t be taking her heart along with him. She swayed along with the music, acting out the words, confident, saucy.
Sexy.
Danny closed his eyes. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He could deal with the office Biddy a lot better than this stage Biddy. He had a feeling the stage Biddy wouldn’t put up with a lot of crap, not that he wanted to give her any.
Of course, the office Biddy hadn’t taken much crap from him when he’d behaved like a jerk this afternoon, something he’d admitted to himself five minutes after he’d watched her walk away. He’d better do something about that.
The band only did two more numbers, ending with the one about traveling that he’d heard before. When they finished, the crowd jumped to its feet, yelling for more. Danny stood and whistled along with everybody else.
Biddy was back then, smiling into the darkened room. “Here’s an old one for you,” the guitarist said, looking a little nervous as Biddy played a quick arpeggio over the piano line.
“Now here’s the story of Minnie the Moocher,” Biddy growled in a voice that sounded like early Marianne Faithfull. People in the back of the room yelled and whistled. She grinned, playing to the crowd, and the crowd played back, roaring now, on its feet. Danny let loose with another whistle and the people next to him didn’t even put their hands over their ears.
Behind her the band laughed as they sang the “heidi heidi heidi ho” chorus. Biddy shook her silvery hair as she swung into the final verse. She raised her hand, waving good-bye as the band retreated and the crowd whooped.
Danny stayed on his feet, staring at the space where Biddy had been standing only seconds before. Around him people stomped their feet, yelling for more, but the next group had already begun to set up.
Poor bastards! Who’d want to follow Biddy and the boys? The crowd began to subside into their seats again as a jug band combo began to play.
He moved back to the bar and ordered a beer. He didn’t exactly know why he was sticking around. He had no idea if Biddy would come into the restaurant or not. Hell, she might head home—after a day like today, she might feel like crashing. He should probably feel that way himself.
But apparently she didn’t. Danny watched as Biddy moved into the room. Shaking hands with one or two people who stopped her, smiling at a little girl who wanted her autograph. He suddenly felt like some star stalker, hovering on the fringes, waiting to pounce on the golden girl.
And then she saw him. Danny swore he could feel the jolt all the way to his knees, although more relevant parts of his body were more directly involved. Good thing she didn’t look like that at the office, or he’d never be able to s
ell anything. On the other hand, he might do a lot of buying.
She raised a tentative hand in a half salute, chewing on her lower lip. Nervous. Danny took a deep calming breath. He was nervous, too, which made no sense at all. Biddy was his assistant. He liked her. He got along with her.
But maybe not this Biddy. A kid Danny recognized as the guitarist stepped to her elbow, scowling in his general direction. Boyfriend? Danny had never thought of Biddy with a boyfriend before, but now it made perfect sense. The guitarist leaned down and muttered something to her, and she broke into a heart-stopping smile, shaking her head.
Then she walked across the restaurant toward him.
“Gee,” she murmured. “You came. I didn’t know if you would.”
He couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. “Wouldn’t miss it. You were even better this time than last.”
“Thanks.” She pressed her lips together. Her surprisingly full, soft lips. “We had a good night.”
“‘Minnie the Moocher’?”
She shrugged, grinning. “Cab Calloway. I thought it would work for an encore.”
“Won’t it wreck your voice, singing like that?”
“If I did it all the time, it would. But once in a while doesn’t hurt. I mean, you should hear Guy Forsyth.”
“I have.” Danny grinned back, happy to be there suddenly, happy to be talking to her, looking at her. “Have you had dinner?” he blurted. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he decided to let his impulse drive take over.
She shook her head. “Just some tea. I don’t like to eat before I sing.”
“Let me take you to dinner then.”
Biddy glanced behind his left shoulder, and he followed her gaze. The guitarist, the bass player and Sideshow Bob were standing about two feet away. They looked like they’d dismember him at the drop of a cocktail onion.
“Am I supposed to ask them if it’s all right to take you out?” Danny muttered.
She shook her head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Biddy?” Sideshow Bob raised an eyebrow.
“It’s okay, Gordy. This is my boss from Vintage Real Estate, Danny Ramos.”
The band didn’t look much happier to find out who he was, Danny noted. What exactly had Biddy told them about her job? He raised a hand and gave them an anemic version of the royal wave.
Sideshow Bob narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She gave him another of those dazzling smiles. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead.”
Sideshow Bob gave Danny one more narrow-eyed look, apparently a threat of gruesome retribution if he made a misstep.
Danny decided he could relate. He watched the band stalk back across the room to the exit. “I thought they were going to require something from me in writing.”
She shrugged. “They’re just protective. Sometimes guys hit on me when we do a show. It’s nice to have the band to back me up.”
“Maybe. I’d just as soon be without backup tonight, if it’s okay with you.”
The corners of her mouth edged up, her eyes dancing.” Oh, Mr. Ramos, it’s totally okay.”
***
Biddy glanced around the wine bar where Danny had taken her, prodding an olive with her forefinger. A lot nicer place than she normally went to—high ceilings, black slate tables with deep leather couches, subdued lighting. Very subdued lighting. And the couch was so deep it almost made them slide together. Biddy anchored herself a little more firmly at her end.
She nibbled on a slice of cheese and wondered just what to say to Danny Ramos. Talking about the office was probably out since talking about the office meant talking about the carriage house, and she was pretty sure that would give him heartburn. So maybe they could talk about the other things they had in common.
What other things? She’d never really talked to him about anything not related to selling property.
Danny seemed to be having the same problem. He took a nervous sip of wine. “So how long have you been a musician?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never not been a musician. My mom used to say I headed straight for the piano with the first steps I took.” Mom’s piano. Biddy found herself smiling, remembering her mother’s baby grand with the top propped open.
“You started on the piano?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t much better than mediocre. I switched to violin in elementary school.” She shrugged. “I can play guitar and bass, too, just not as well. No wind instruments, though. They let me out of that.”
“They?” He raised an eyebrow.
“My teachers at college. Most music schools expect you to be able to play multiple instruments, but they were willing to let me stick to strings.” Particularly after Professor Rarig had gotten a load of her technique on clarinet. Embouchure, Miss Gunter. Some mouths have it. Other mouths are destined for the violin, no?
Danny leaned back in his chair, contemplating his glass of wine. “I thought you majored in business. Araceli said something about your marketing classes.”
Biddy grimaced. “Probably about how badly I did in them. I minored in business. Araceli wanted me to major, but we compromised.”
“Why did Araceli have any say over what you majored in?”
Her smile faded.
He shook his head. “Not that it’s any of my business. Sorry.”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “That’s okay. Araceli paid for my tuition, most of it, anyway.”
“Your parents couldn’t handle it themselves?”
“We had a run of . . . bad luck, I guess.” She gave up on trying to keep any kind of smile going. She’d never be able to smile about that part of her life. “My dad was killed in an accident when I was finishing high school. Then my mom got sick. The hospital bills pretty much wiped out the insurance and the bank accounts.”
“So Araceli stepped in?”
“She was Mom’s executor.” Biddy looked down at her hands, remembering the feeling of gut-wrenching panic, along with the grief she hadn’t been able to process because of her fear. And then her relief when Araceli had moved back to San Antonio from Chicago. Knowing that everything would turn out all right after all. “Mom really wanted me to finish college.”
He sighed. “Sorry, Biddy, I didn’t meant to make you unhappy. Would you like to talk about something else?”
Yes, please! But she might as well get it all out now. She looked up at him, her mouth quirking up at the corners again. “That’s okay. I don’t mind it so much these days. Anyway, Araceli thought I should major in something practical, something related to business, but I already had all these hours in music and it would have taken an extra year to pick up the hours for a business degree, so we compromised. Music major, business minor.” A compromise that had taken most of a month to work out. A compromise that had effectively destroyed her GPA, given how bored she was in her business classes.
“But now those compromises are over?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Pretty much.” She grimaced, remembering Araceli’s voice. For God’s sake, Biddy, the whole music thing was fun when you were a kid. It’s time to grow up now.
Danny took an olive from her cheese plate and popped it into his mouth. “Won’t it be tough to keep the real estate job up once you guys start getting more bookings?”
“If we start getting more bookings.” She rapped her knuckles on the wooden arm of the couch. “It’s still up in the air at this point.”
He shook his head. “Not from what I saw tonight. Do you guys have a CD?”
“An extended play. It should be coming out next month. We can sell it at shows until we get a distributor.”
“And a manager?”
“Well, I’m sort of doing that for now. Only not very well. It’s tough to manage and perform at the s
ame time. And I promised Araceli I’d finish getting my real estate license. When she got me the job with Vintage, I promised I’d try it out for a year. She wants me to get some solid job experience on my résumé.”
“What do you want, Biddy?” In the dim light of the restaurant, his eyes looked like emeralds again. She had the feeling they’d have gold highlights if she could look at them a little closer. Or a lot closer.
“I want . . . ,” she began. Oh, man, talk about a loaded question. “I want the band to be a success. We’ve all worked hard, really hard. We all have other jobs and then we rehearse and play around everyone’s schedule. If we could just start making enough so that we could quit our day jobs . . .”
She closed her eyes. She could almost hear Araceli now. Her voice would probably be audible at dog frequencies. “Of course, quitting may not be an option for a while.”
The corners of Danny’s mouth edged up, as if he were fighting a smile. “No, I imagine quitting wouldn’t exactly go over big.”
She let herself smile back. “She’s not really so bad, you know. She just wants to be the best at anything she does. She’s worked her tail off from the time she was a teenager.”
He sighed. “The problem is, for her to be the best, it sometimes seems like everybody else has to fail. And there are times when she helps that to happen.”
Biddy nodded. “She’s very ambitious. Always has been. But she’s also really good at what she does, and she’s an insanely hard worker. And I owe her so much. She basically gave up her career in Chicago to come back here and help me.” She picked up another olive, sliding it between her fingers. “Look, why don’t we talk about your family for a while? Surely, you’ve got a few skeletons of your own.”
Danny’s eyes narrowed. He picked up his wine glass and took another sip.
She would have given herself a swift kick if she hadn’t been sunk so deeply in the leather couch. Mentioning something like skeletons was not a good idea right now. She managed to haul herself a couple of inches out of the couch. “Did you grow up in San Antonio?”
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